Mexican Radio

Forget about tu padre‘s Mexican radio. With growing immigrant populations in the United States plus a pop-music market favorable to crossover artists such as Shakira and Enrique Iglesias (not to mention the delightfully shady likes of Pitbull and Daddy Yankee), Latin pop — as it’s actually heard in the Spanish-speaking world — is finally reaching American airwaves. Except for the language, it isn’t too different from what you’d hear on English-speaking stations.

The establishment of KCZZ 1480 (Radio Akctivo) brings contemporary Latino music to Kansas City. Before November 14, that frequency was regional Mexican music, the more traditional sounds — mariachi, ranchera, Tex-Mex, the corridos and cumbias of groups such as our own Mafia Norteña (“Gritos Bandidos,” October 27).

Now, however, 1480 plays music you might hear blaring from the cars of teenagers out for wild nights in Mexico City — rock and roll like that of Molotov, the band that Akctivo brought to the Beaumont Club last Tuesday for what quickly became the most exciting crowd scene I’ve witnessed at a concert all year.

There was no opening act, but at 9 p.m., about an hour before the famous Mexican rock en Español band was scheduled to come on, the area in front of the stage was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and most of the best vantage points around the house were taken. The lack of live music didn’t seem to matter. The kids were moshing, jumping, yelling, pumping T-shirts like rally rags and forming conga lines — all to music from the PA.

When Molotov finally came out, the room exploded. The crowd-surfing and beer-slinging commenced and didn’t stop until the last note tore through the amps.

Amazingly, Molotov opened with a cover of the Europop song “Rock Me Amadeus” by the late, long-forgotten Falco (the same tune Tech N9ne sampled in “I’m a Playa”). The band’s overall approach was also clearly informed by the Beastie Boys, with every member — including the drummer — rapping percussively into a microphone, sometimes together, sometimes separately, but never dropping a lead guitar lick or bass-string boom. Molotov’s two bass guitarists, Miky Huidobro and Paco Ayalas, flanked frontman and guitarist Tito Fuentes like twin Rottweilers. Shrouded in stage smoke in the back was drummer Randy “El Gringo Loco” Elbright, who drove the band through a bottom-heavy set that was one part punk, one part metal and one part Mexico.

Lalo, 37, a Mexico native and Lenexa resident who didn’t want his last name published, explained that Molotov was the kind of band accustomed to playing venues like Kemper Arena. He compared the band’s sound to Linkin Park and Rage Against the Machine — heavy rap-rock with smart, politically charged lyrics and slamming distortion.

During the middle of the set, the band began vamping to a salsa beat and called to the stage a herd of women from the audience. The crowd watched expectantly as Huidobro led two women, one by one, to the speaker platforms on either side of the stage and had each take off her top and slip into a band-approved shirt. Cheers tore at the rafters when he casually tucked his microphone into a chica’s cleavage before pulling a tank top down over her head. Soon, the big, sweaty bassist was shirtless himself.

No form of expression was awkward or inappropriate at this show. Slam-dancing broke out in the remotest corners of the venue, and even the oldest audience members (the median age wasn’t very high) weren’t shy about spontaneously pumping their fists and shouting to the music, even when standing at the bar.

Choruses of puto! puto! repeatedly broke out. The word translates as faggot — in addition to being the title of a controversial Molotov song, it seems to be a rallying cry for balls-out Mexican rock and roll.

The biggest crowd-pleasers were Molotov’s political songs. The band had just celebrated its 10th anniversary, and, at one point, Fuentes took the microphone and unleashed a rapid diatribe that included the name George Bush and garnered rebel yells. Lalo translated it: After 10 years, we’re still telling George Bush to go fuck himself.

Bush wasn’t Molotov’s only victim. Also well received were a slow song about crooked Mexican police and a smooth mariachi number called “Frijolero” about the plight of Mexican immigrants (derogatorily labeled beaners) in the United States.

The band rounded off its set with big, punk hooks and flashing lights; however, at the end, Molotov totally pissed away its momentum. Instead of hammering out a couple of satisfying encores, the band carried out a few half-assed cadences (i.e., make noise … stop … make noise … stop). But by that point, Molotov’s members could have elicited cheers by farting.

A cheer should also be raised — or a cup of beer thrown — in honor of Radio Akctivo. If the station has its way, Molotov won’t be the last rock en Español show to hit KC.

My advice to other non-Hispanic types is not to be caught at some bar, bobbing your head obliviously to the Killers or Ciara, the next time Molotov or any band like it roars through town.