Fierce Enough to Bite

-- "Mis Dos Patrias" ("My Two Countries")

Onstage at Coyote Joe's, a cavernous cowboy joint here, the Confederate flag hangs, unnoticed and uncommented upon, as Jorge sings about how America is a country, not a color, crooning as the band kicks up a happily rollicking rhythm that belies the anger of the lyrics.

As venues go, this is one of the smaller ones Los Tigres plays, with a capacity of 3,000. The night before, in Atlanta, there were more than 8,000. Tonight, as is the case with all their shows, the crowd is mostly Latino. Many are new immigrants. There are middle-aged couples snuggling in corners; tweens in bright T's dashing around. But mostly, the club is jammed with young adults, bright-eyed girls in bootylicious denim, arms draped around baby-faced boys in cowboy hats. They dance ranchera style (a sort of two-step), bouncing to the beat.

Teo, a 46-year-old construction worker with a cowboy hat and a weather-beaten face, stands on the sideline. He and his wife, Ana, 42, just arrived two months ago from Mexico, and no, they don't have papers. But as long as you don't "drive drunk," Teo says, you don't have to worry here. He hopes.

He loves Los Tigres, loves their music, the emotion of it all.

"Hearing the music in Spanish," he says, "you can feel the emotion. Their music is coinciding with my own experiences."

"There's a lot of love in their songs," says Alejandro, 18, a small, wiry-looking man who moved here from Hidalgo.

A handful of teenagers stumble around, the plastic rings of a six-pack wrapped around their wrists like white bracelets. Here, a six-pack of Corona sells for $36.

Watching the teens is Angeles Ortega-Moore, the executive director of the Charlotte-based Latin American Coalition, and she frets. Thanks to a new program started last April, sheriff's deputies routinely screen prisoners for their immigration status. Since last April, close to 1,000 prisoners have been processed for deportation, according to Ortega-Moore.

Charlotte's had its tensions.

According to Ortega-Moore, the city's seen a 614 percent increase in its Latino population since the 1990 Census. In the United States, about 65 percent of the Latino population is American-born, according to the census. Charlotte is almost the reverse: close to 70 percent of Latinos are foreign-born, most of them Mexican. The growth in the city's Latino population has fueled growth in KKK membership, according to the Charlotte Observer.

" 'Illegal immigration' has become synonymous with Latinos," Ortega-Moore says.

When Ortega-Moore first started working at the Latin American Coalition six years ago, it was a one-room office. It now has a staff of 11 and services roughly 1,000 immigrants a month, counseling them on everything from housing to labor issues to immigration information to starting a business to buying a house.

"The people who come here are already risk-takers," Ortega-Moore says. "They leave behind family and language, culture and food."

Los Tigres' kind of people.

* * *

In 1972, Los Tigres had their first breakout hit with "Contrabando y Traicion" ("Contraband and Betrayal"), based on the real-life story of Camelia La Tejana and Emilio Varela, a Bonnie-and-Clyde duo who crossed the border with a stash of pot in the tires of their car.

"Contrabando y Traicion" secured their future, as Los Tigres made a name for themselves by telling it like it was, singing narcocorridos about folks living on the other side of the law. To this day, Jorge bristles at the idea that they were glorifying criminals. They refuse to be photographed with weapons, and unlike other singers of narcocorridos such as Chalino Sanchez, who was gunned down gangland style, insist on cultivating a clean-cut image.

"I was upset when they associated me with it," he says. "We told true stories. We are only carriers of the truth."

In time, their truth-telling focused more on immigration issues, songs of longing and loss, of accomplishments and frustrations. Fans contact them at their San Jose offices, pouring out the stories of their lives in handwritten letters and tapes, stories that the songwriters who work with Los Tigres take and incorporate into the music. Last year's single, "Señor Locutor" ("Mr. Dee-Jay"), tells of a real-life phenomenon -- the way Spanish language DJs help estranged family members reunite.

"We really listen to what they have to say," Hernán says. "People are all the time looking at us. We have to think ahead. We feel more responsible now than ever. Music changes. But we're still singing about problems, immigration . . . "

* * *

1:30 a.m.

It's freezing outside. Backstage, in a small unheated room, Los Tigres, soaked in sweat after their concert, are shivering a bit. But for now, the warmth of the tour bus must be postponed -- there are fans lined up outside, waiting to meet Los Tigres. Atenio Hernandez, a brother who is not in the band, holds a handful of cash. A photographer stands at the ready, Polaroid camera in hand. A fan hands Atenio a bill, and dashes to the front of the room, shaking hands and kissing the cheeks of Los Tigres before wrapping an arm around a favorite Tigre.

"A la foto!" the photographer commands.

Fixed smiles all around.

Click.

The ritual is repeated again and again, with Atenio collecting the fees for the Polaroid photos ($5).

The band used to pose for free, Jorge says, but when the pictures ended up selling on the Internet, they started charging a fee. (Fans who bring their own cameras pose for free.)

Lisette Aurelio, a pouty 19-year-old who's originally from Texas, waits. "They still look good," she says. "And they're representing for Mexico."

When it's her turn, she makes a dash for Hernán, wrapping her arms around his neck, trying to force him into an impromptu French kiss. He pulls away, looking a little embarrassed -- and yes, a little pleased, too.

For most, posing with Los Tigres is a solemn thing. A tall, bronze-skinned man poses with them, bending their ears as he describes his odyssey from Mexico to Charlotte.

Enough, they finally say.

Okay, okay, he says. But as he leaves, he shouts over his shoulder:

¡Defiendan nuestros derechos!

Stick up for our rights!