There are few performances in the Latinx community that have stood above the rest in the cultural diaspora, much less ones by Mexican-American artists. There are seldom musicians who represent the dichotomy of being American-born but performing with a sound that is influenced by their Mexican roots. Not since Ritchie Valens had a star burned so bright that it was a supernova.
30 years ago, Selena was that star.
Selena is one of the few artists who need not a last name for fans to recognize her. A consummate professional in every sense of the word, her stage presence could only be described as a magnetic force that would have audiences locked in to linger on her every word.
On February 26, 1995, Selena Quintanilla-Perez closed out the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, in what would later be known as “The Last Concert.” Performed to a sea of nearly 67,000 people, the concert set an attendance record for the Houston Astrodome. In addition to the almost sold-out crowd, the concert was televised on Univision, which allowed for a posthumous DVD release some years later. Now the last remnants of the event exist on YouTube for fans like myself to feel part of the moment.
The Astrodome was roaring with anticipation.
Out comes the queen, glittering in an aubergine jumpsuit, accessorized with metallic-silver stiletto boots. She grandly enters in a white carriage, making her rounds around the arena built for a rodeo, as she waves excitedly to her tens of thousands of adoring fans.
Selena takes the stage as it begins to slowly rotate clockwise. Everyone will get a perfect view of their beloved superstar. She addresses the crowd with delight:
“How ya doin’, Houston, Texas?”
She takes a deep breath on the microphone, a moment of pause before the performance. She begins her set with an unexpected medley of hit disco numbers, made famous by the likes of Donna Summer and Gloria Gaynor, two artists that were on the radio in her youth.
The first of many dance breaks begins with a wardrobe malfunction; she loses an earring while delivering a signature twirl. She immediately remedies this by yanking off the other; she doesn’t need them, not for the show she’s about to put on.
The medley concludes, and now Selena addresses her Spanish-speaking audience:
“Muchas gracias Houston, ¿cómo están todos?”
The familiar chimes of “Amor Prohibido” begin, and the audience is enthralled. Taking her bolero jacket off without missing a beat, she reveals an asymmetrical halter-cut bodice, to the delight of the crowd.
Selena now floats across the stage, each of her spins effortless and carefree. She flashes a smile that transcends language barriers, letting all her fans know that she sees and hears them. The stage has been her home since youth, and it shows.
Flavors of marimba, merengue, norteño and cumbia all blend together to create a sound that is central to that of Los Dinos, Selena’s band, complemented by the electric guitar riffs from her husband Chris Perez.
She is able to move through declarations of love within minutes, singing songs about heartbreak, adoration and betrayal. She sings every intention, all emoting what she wants the audience to feel; for every scorn a scowl, every flirt a giggle and every lament, a wail.
Selena is a performer beyond her 23 years; she sings with the control of a classically-trained vocalist and moves with the type of choreography that looks on the fly. She delivers ad-libs that connect her to the sound.
The first half of the concert flies by. For Selena, there are no breaks. She performs nearly all the singles from her fourth studio album, but not without checking in with the crowd:
“Oye, ¿están cansados ya?”
She has the crowd in the palm of her hand, bouncing back into “Techno Cumbia.”
The album was second-nature at this point, now approaching the final leg of her “Amor Prohibido” tour. The Last Concert marked the end of an era for Selena’s career; with the upcoming release of her first English-language album, she would no longer be known solely as a Tejano music artist — she was on her way to achieve pop music stardom.
As the concert comes to a close, the crowd eagerly awaits the last number of the night, hopefully the one that’s strikingly missing from the set list. Selena catches her breath, seemingly for the first time as she teases the audience:
“Ustedes hicieron esta canción un éxito, el primer éxito para nosotros…”
She starts off the usually-upbeat “Como La Flor” as a ballad. She lingers on every word, making sure the audience is still following, and they are. She takes a pause before the hook, and looks directly into the camera, acknowledging everyone watching from home with a grin and a wave.
“Se marchitó, me marcho hoy, yo se perder, pero ay, ay ay, como me duele…”
The song describes love as an ever-wilting flower, that like all good things it must come to an end. It is almost as if Selena herself is acknowledging the transition her artistry is about to make, but not without thanking the fans who helped her reach the status that has earned her a Grammy. She says her final goodbyes, sending love to every seat in the room:
“Mil abrazos y mil besotes a cada uno de ustedes, cuidense muchisimo y nos vemos muy pronto… ¡Buenas noches!”
The last notes of “Como La Flor” end with a fireworks finale, lighting up the arena. Selena is escorted backstage in a red convertible, a star disappearing into the night.
It was a homecoming fit for a queen; the attendance record would later be broken by country star George Strait, but that didn’t matter; Selena’s legacy would now be synonymous with the Astrodome.
Although she did perform once more at a nightclub in Bryan, Texas, 12 days before her murder, Selena’s short career was bookended by her iconic performance at the Astrodome. Her posthumous English-language album, “Dreaming of You,” is now a symbol whose title track serves as a eulogy, mourning the loss of a star gone too soon:
“And there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here in my room, dreaming with you endlessly…”
She would later influence the work of artists such as Jennifer Lopez and Beyoncé, who both credit her with paving the way for a U.S.-born Latina and a Texas native, respectively.
March 31 marks the 30th anniversary of Selena’s passing, but her music keeps her memory alive.
The Last Concert was a taste of what could’ve been, a sign that a Mexican-American woman from Corpus Christi could steal the hearts of fans on both sides of the border. Like many artists who were taken in their prime, Selena lives on through her music and through glimpses of her star power, now a memory to those who love her most.
From the personal radio of my own youth, to the speakers of my car or the posterity of the Internet, she sings to me. I hope she knows I’m still listening.