All the have-to-dos have been done: His throat's been warmed up, thanks to a portable steam inhaler. The record label president who flew in from Miami has been chatted up. Fans have been meeted and greeted in a pre-show "meet and greet." Now, in the dressing room at DAR Constitution Hall, Juanes is chilling, the lights dimmed, the spread of fruit and deli plates untouched. (His rule: No food for at least eight hours before curtain.) Head down, hands in pockets, he leans against the doorjamb, a portrait of the artist as a young rockero, dressed in a deconstructed black suit, chartreuse shirt and his trademark Converse sneaks. Ever so softly, he croons his vocalizing exercises, a bird cooing his way up and down the scale.
In just a few minutes, he'll strap on his guitar and stroll onstage with a modest wave and sideways grin. For two hours, Juan Esteban Aristizabal -- Colombia's answer to Bono -- will thrash around onstage as images of war from Vietnam to Colombia flash on two giant screens. (Don't worry if you missed his sold-out show on March 2. He's scheduled to return July 14 for a performance at Wolf Trap.) Not for him the choreographed machinations of a Ricky Martin or a Chayanne, shaking it up against a backdrop of scantily clad dancers. The show is just the man, his band and his guitar. Which will be enough to keep everyone -- paunchy bureaucrats, curvy young things, spiky-haired tweens -- on their feet, singing along, bodies bouncing in a ripple of the red, yellow and blue stripes of the Colombian flag. (Some wave it. Others wear it.) Women will practically leapfrog onstage, only to be dragged off, rump first, by security. Parents will prop shy little girls in front of him. He'll take them by the hand, twirling them round and round. The Colombian ambassador's wife (a big fan) will get swept up in the fever of it all, pressing against the rim of the stage, hand outstretched as Juanes serenades her:
"Music is a way of releasing whatever bothers you," says Juanes, now touring the U.S. "And even though I'm singing about . . . difficult things, there's always an optimism."
(Lucian Perkins -- The Washington Post)
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Y es por ti . . .
Que me late mi corazon
Y es por ti . . . .
Que calma mi dolor
(And it's because of you
That my heart beats
And it's because of you
That my pain calms)
About that pain: Yes, for Juanes (a shortening of his first two names), life is on the upswing: The 32-year-old singer has just kicked off the first leg of his 40-plus city tour of the United States; he's got nine Latin Grammy awards to his name; a happy union with his wife, actress Karen Martinez; a baby daughter, Luna, and another baby girl on the way. He's dueted with Nelly Furtado, graced the pages of the latest People, snared a Pepsi sponsorship and sold out venues at home and abroad. (He divides his time between Miami and Medellin). In Latin America, he's already achieved superstar status. In the United States, where he has sold nearly a million records -- a lot for a Spanish-language act -- his popularity is increasing: Witness his nearly sold-out gig at Madison Square Garden on March 4.
"He's one of the top-selling Latin pop acts in the United States and in the world," says Lelia Cobo, Billboard's Latin bureau chief. "He's considered a major star, completely."
Juanes says he doesn't get the whole rock star thing. In person, he's soft-spoken, even shy. Onstage, he's all intent focus without succumbing to over-the-top bravado.
"Why me?" he says, scrunching down in the couch in his dressing room and shrugging his shoulders. "I ask myself that all the time. I never thought I'd be famous.
