“A Sinaloan Fiesta in the Heart of Nashville”
Nashville’s Bridgestone Arena, often celebrated as the mecca for the twangs of country music, witnessed a riveting transformation on September 28th. The sounds of steel-stringed guitars were replaced by the rhythmic beats of Fuerza Regida, and the arena hummed with an energy more akin to Sinaloa’s untamed fiestas. Echoes of corridos, those tales of wild love and wilder ambitions, resonated through corridors typically privy to country ballads.
From their inaugural hits like “Radicamos en South Central” and “Fume Uno” to the more recent chartbusters like “Sabor Fresa” and “El Tóxico”, the band has carved a trajectory of glory, grit, and unbridled passion. They’ve been lauded with awards – Premios Juventud, Latin American Music Awards, and the grand Billboard Music Award. Yet, what these accolades can’t capture is the raw magnetism these men bring onto the stage.
A year, that’s how long it took for Fuerza Regida to seep into my veins, to become an addiction I didn’t want to quit. And that fateful evening in Nashville was like the first hit of a potent drug – pure, unadulterated Regional Mexicano ecstasy. Imagine, if you will, being yanked straight out of Tennessee and thrust amidst the fervor of El Estadio Azteca or a sweltering palenque in the heart of Mexico. That’s exactly what it felt like.
The Bridgestone Arena lit up with cell phones, twinkling like stars in a vast Latin sky. But the universe truly exploded when JOP made his entrance. Puro fuego, he was. His sultry bad-boy allure had the ladies in a trance and the guys biting back their envy. The air was thick with anticipation, and boy, did he deliver!
Now, pin me down on the setlist and I’d falter, but let me tell you, when he belted out tracks like “Igualito a Mi Apa,” “Sabor Fresa,” “Whiskey con Agua,” “TQM,” and “Me Acostumbré a lo Bueno,” the arena erupted. We went nuts, losing all semblance of cool. The atmosphere was electric, a dream spun into reality. And Dios mío, when he served us the tantalizing hit “DAME”… The world stopped. Fuerza Regida gave us everything we had yearned for and then some. The seductive strains of cumbia ignited the air, and hips, including mine, moved with a rhythm that was contagious. I was so caught up in the passion, I found myself grabbing a stranger, asking him to dance with me to my favorite track. No shame, just pure, unadulterated joy.
Amidst the strums and beats, I felt as Mexican as mezcal sipped under Oaxacan skies, as authentic as mole negro dripping from a tortilla. As the night grew older, I found myself wishing I’d awaken in Mazatlán, tasting aguachiles and sipping a michelada by the coast. Fuerza Regida is our era’s Selena – a beacon of Latinx pride. That night, they lifted our brown pride higher, making us damn proud of our roots.
That evening was a toast to life’s raw, unfiltered joys. Amigos to dance with, tequila shots, ice-cold cervezas, and heart-thumping corridos. Immersed in the moment, every bass note coursed through our veins, while the sultry cries of the horns sent chills down our spines.
