CARLOS PONCE, “ESCÚCHAME”

4th December, 1999

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Three number-one hits in two years: why have I not been including Carlos Ponce along with Iglesias, Martin, Anthony, Fernández, Lopez, and Shakira as the new generation shaking up Latin pop in the late 90s? Well, because he hasn't been anywhere near as good as any of them, for one -- his gruff-voiced power ballads are well below the standard of their sleek pop variety. And for two, this is his last appearance; barring unforeseen comebacks, he will not trouble us again.

So it's something of a pity that his last outing is his best yet. His second album, Todo Lo Que Soy, was produced by Emilio Estefan, for whom it was a banner year: he was involved in nearly all of the 1999 songs I've loved. And "Escúchame" is no power ballad, but an airy folk-pop song, the first pop-flamenco (and not just flamenco-inspired guitar runs) we've heard since Gipsy Kings all the way back in 1990. Ponce is by no means a traditional cantaor, but his husky tones can manage a pop approximation of gitano singing, and he plays off against the handclap rhythms in the last chorus like a pro.

But even though it's a sweet song, and I appreciate the tonal variety of the flamenco sound, it's still not on the level that the new generation is, more like (to reach for contemporary Anglophone comparisons) Everlast's pop-blues-hop than what Britney Spears or Destiny's Child were doing the same year: nice enough, but they're building the future.

CARLOS PONCE, “DECIR ADIÓS”

26th September, 1998

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The first time Carlos Ponce came up, I noted that he had gotten his start in telenovelas; and it's worth noting  that a few months after this, he'd be guest starring on both Beverly Hills 90210 and 7th Heaven as generic Latin pretty boys. "Decir Adiós" doesn't do much to dispel the pretty-boy air; although it has more gravitas than "Rezo," it's if anything even less demanding of his limited vocal capabilities. He gets to growl sandily, and murmur throatily, and the rest of the track's emotion is up to the backing orchestra-plus-wailing-guitar.

The song itself is practically the definition of "generic rock ballad" -- the title translates to "Say Goodbye," a title that has covered hundreds of songs over the years -- and what interest it manages to scrape up is due largely to the dramatic, pause-and-crescendo arrangement led by electric piano, an arrangement which Ponce barrels through with little grace, relying on the inherent sexiness of his voice to carry him through in much the same way as he relied on the inherent sexiness of his look to carry him through acting. I'm afraid I'm immune to those particular charms; I'm left wondering, again, what a really strong singer, a Ricky Martin or a Marc Anthony, might have made of the song.

CARLOS PONCE, “REZO”

27th June, 1998

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Carlos Ponce was an actor, pinup, and singer, in that order; he'd been working in telenovelas since 1990, when he was eighteen, and the fact that it took until 1998 for him to release a debut album suggests that music was neither his first passion nor the most efficient use of his talents.

Or maybe I'm just letting the performance influence my reckoning. There's nothing about it which suggests a distinct musical personality: the dreamy-ballad-into-gospel-swayalong format is cribbed from Ricky Martin, the gruff, limited-range singing (until he finally lets off a single falsetto peal in the outro) is reminiscent of nonsinging actors forced to sing anyway from Richard Harris to Johnny Depp, and the indistinctly anonymous instrumentation that puts him front and center makes it clear that it's not music but showbiz that is really being celebrated here. The gospel choir makes up for his own improvisatory deficiencies and lack of mellifluousness; it's almost as if that was the idea.

The song itself is a glib declaration of love: "Rezo" means "I pray," though the connotation leans more towards the recitation of Catholic prayer than to the impulsive spirit of evangelical prayer. Which may be one way of explaining the poor match between song and style; the entirely secular subject of his prayer is that she love him back, "y que mi vida decores con tus gustos, tus colores" (and decorate my life with your tastes, your colors). It's the kind of thing that would be sweet if sung in a romantic comedy and creepily terrifying in real life. Which is true of most pop, probably; but Ponce's not a strong enough musical actor to sell the idea convincingly.