“Maná’s Professionalism and Passion for Environmentalism Shine in Electrifying Concert”

Maná can be counted on for neatly choreographed, effervescent, Latinized pop-rock. If this sounds like praise, let’s add that few gangs police vulnerable species with such tenacity. The Mexican quartet cares deeply about the environment, especially aquatic environments, and even maintains a non-profit organization called Fundación Selva Negra (founded in 1995).

As soon as the United Center lights dimmed, images of marine life, of straggling sea turtles, flickered on a blue wall of LEDs. A giant inflatable turtle hung from the rafters. No, it was not an evil symbol. Maná’s performance on Saturday night was anything but weak, or tortoise, so to speak.

In a word, Maná is professional. However, Saturday’s warm-up music – “Solsbury Hill”, “In Your Eyes” – was a misstep, because no one comes to a Maná concert to hear cheap art-pop. (Tellingly, Peter Gabriel’s medley of songs was drowned out by impatient whistling.) Maná’s formula boils down to muscular, multitrack hooks, washed-out verses, and clean riffs courtesy of Sergio Vallín, the group’s lead guitarist, clad in a leopard print.

The leader Fher Olvera is not one of those who overreach. Why would he? What else does this decorated conductor, possibly the most awarded in the Spanish-speaking world, have to prove? Olvera’s direct is not very physical, or at least not very athletic. He doesn’t strut around the stage like a crazed acrobat; the most he does is bob contentedly or pantomime a swimmer in the sea. But having toured the entire Western Hemisphere, Olvera is a master of working with audiences. He naturally alternates acoustic, electric and rhythm guitar. Just as impressive is his instinctive rapport with the audience. Olvera keeps them on their toes with harmonica breakdowns, drinking exhibitions and gently comic monologues in Spanish. Well, this 63-year-old man has a funny figure; his flashy clothes are garish and his jeans alarmingly tight. But this does not detract from the Maná experience at all.

At one point, the show was taken over by drummer Alex González, a foul-mouthed free spirit whose solo pyrotechnics were a joy to behold, no matter how swaggering. It was a relief, however, when the band reunited en masse on a small crimson-carpeted dais in front of the main stage: “In Unity We Stand.” The best moments of the night were invariably antiphonal: What this reporter wouldn’t give to relive the exultant call-and-response madness of “It Hasn’t Stopped Raining” and “How I Desire You”.

Maná’s shows are essentially monolingual; Olvera barely missed a word in English on Saturday. The crowd seemed mostly Mexican, with many in attendance waving Mexican flags, though other parts of Latin America were lightly represented. There were enough old people and married couples to constitute a majority. But youngsters in tight T-shirts? Selfie queens with pursed lips and ripped jeans? They turned out in larger numbers than might be expected. Young and old alike are susceptible to Mana’s charms.

“I was introduced to Maná through a guy who has already passed away,” says a 37-year-old concertgoer. “But my wife was a fan for a longer time, since she was 15 years old. She told me: ‘You have to see these guys live’ ”.

The crowd at the United Center was in high spirits, and even those who were not dancing did not sit for long. It’s only fitting that Maná covered “Get Up, Stand Up,” the Wailers’ scintillating reggae number from 1973. “Get Up, Stand Up” has a lewd beat, but the lyrics – a furious denunciation of colonial looting – mean business. . Manna is also serious. Despite their professionalism, the band has an important message to convey. They can count on it.

-Translation by Jose Luis Sanchez Pando/TCA