Monday September 24, 2001

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Phil Leckman

Among the many aspects of day-to-day life disrupted by last week's tragic events were the Latin Grammy Awards, originally scheduled for the evening of Sept. 11.

Depending on your perspective, the awards, which were officially cancelled on Friday, represent either an honest attempt by the recording industry to honor Latin performers, or a cynical effort to cash in on America's burgeoning numbers of Latino consumers. In either case, the industry is missing the boat.

In case you somehow happened to miss the Titanic-sized Latin pop juggernaut of the last two or three years, "Latin" is hot these days - white hot. The huge mainstream success of artists like Ricky Martin, Jennifer Lopez and Enrique Iglesias is only the most visible aspect of a new national mania for things Latino. Rappers like Jay-Z and P. Diddy increasingly sprinkle their songs with Spanish phrases, and the constant string of CDs by the Buena Vista Social Club's dozens of elderly Cubans continue to maintain a chokehold over the purse strings of the National Public Radio crowd.

Factor in data from the 2000 census, which show an almost 60 percent increase in the nation's Latino population since 1990, and the recording industry's increased interest in Latin music requires very little explanation indeed.

There's just one problem - the "Latin Pop" phenomenon currently being milked by the industry is an entirely different animal than the demographic explosion mapped by the census. "Latin Pop," as represented by performers such as Martin, Lopez or Aguilera, is a passing trend, a slightly spicier flavor-of-the-month. Besides their Hispanic last names and the odd Spanish phrase, there's nothing particularly "Latin" about the music these crossover artists produce. Their hits are studio-crafted pop confections more akin to the latest Britney Spears single than to the sounds America's burgeoning Latino population really listen to.

Take Carlos Santana, for instance - the 60s guitar god was the big winner at last year's Latin Grammys, garnering three awards. But Supernatural, the album receiving these honors, was a collection of duets pairing Santana with Rob Thomas, Everlast and other Top-40 chart staples - hardly an appropriate pick for 2000's best Latin album. Santana's guitar supplied Supernatural with a certain Latin flair, but that's all it was: an accent, akin to putting salsa on your hamburger instead of ketchup. And while the Latin Grammys and the industry heaped praise on Santana and Aguilera, genuine Latin chart-toppers went almost unrecognized.

In the most glaring oversight, regional Mexican music - including a whole constellation of genres ranging from the accordions, basses and guitars of norte–o to the tubas and clarinets of oompah-like banda, was relegated to the kind of no-visibility slot the regular Grammys gives to low-interest genres like "best vocal jazz performance" and "best classical album." The slight was so huge that Fonovisa, the United States' largest Mexican-music label, boycotted the awards in protest even though its artists won in several categories.

And this is where the recording industry is screwing up. Although its current profile in the United States is low, Mexican music is huge business on both sides of the border. Los Tigres del Norte, one of the Fonovisa groups that boycotted last year's Latin Grammys, regularly sell out stadiums from Chicago to San Francisco. Many other Mexican groups are equally successful: Seven of the top 10 sellers on this week's Billboard Latin chart are Mexican, including four of the top five.

These groups have a built-in and growing audience: The current census reports that 58.5 percent of U.S. Latinos - more than 20 million people - are Mexican or of Mexican descent, an increase of over 50 percent on 1990's figures.

All told, that equals a huge market for Mexican music - an enormous group of fans and supporters who are presumably much less interested in J-Lo, Christina Aguilera or other pseudo-Latin industry darlings than they are in genuine acts like Los Tigres, Grupo Brindys or Banda El Recodo.

Trends change rapidly, and it's inevitable that the mainstream market's appetite for Latin-lite acts like Aguilera will soon move on to a new passing fling. Perhaps the recording industry will then recognize legitimate Latin music instead of flash-in-the-pan Taco Bell tripe. While the cancellation of this year's Grammy ceremony means that the year's top "Latin" release will have to remain a mystery, we can only hope that it would have been representative of real Latin music, not an English-language Pace Picante Sauce parody.