|An oldie but still definitely a star.|
In case you're wondering, and you probably are, Gaynor is sixty-five years old, chunkier than we remember her and not as agile on stage as she used to be, but looking damn good even from our third-row seats.
|Generation Gap Alert: Some in the enthusiastic crowd were not |
even born when some of Gaynor's hits originally came out.
Apart from the absence of graying gringos, who might have been wearing bell-bottomed pants for the occasion, was the venue, a new small convention center opened about a year ago off the main avenue into San Miguel. From the outside it looks about as glum as Lenin's tomb, but the inside was downright plush, with one large ballroom-size space with a stage and a large lounge/anteroom with a bar.
Then Gaynor tore into the crowd with introductions to her numbers in Spanish—and pretty good conversational Spanish too, not something she picked up a week ago.
The almost all-Mexican crowd, thirty- or forty-ish, seem thoroughly familiar with Gaynor's songbook and eager to sing along. Are we in San Miguel, 2015, or at a gay bar in Chicago, circa 1980?
One glitch was the sound system which seemed to overwhelm the relatively small room and sometimes even Gaynor and her backup singers.
|Gloria Gaynor closes the show. She can survive, indeed.|
For Stew and me, it was the best Fourth of July we could remember, going back the blow-outs in Chicago's lakefront Grant Park. Except we were in Mexico.