Me (11 page)

My fame in the world of entertainment did not come unexpectedly. Even though it may seem to audiences in some countries that I showed up out of nowhere and started selling albums like crazy, the reality is very different. My rise to the top of the charts as a top-selling artist came after many, many years of hard work and dedication by both myself and my entire team. From a very spiritual and personal point of view, I had taken the time to discover what I wanted to do with my life and which direction I wanted to take. I felt ready and strong, prepared to face all the challenges life might dole out. But despite being ready for everything that was to come, I would never have been able to imagine the scope of it and how that would affect each and every area of my life.

THE RIDE BEGAN in the fall of 1995, with the release of my third album,
A medio vivir.
The first single released was called
“Te extraño, te olvido, te amo”
(“I Miss You, I Forget You, I Love You”), a ballad that was in line with the kind of music I was making at that time. But the album also had a secret gem: a song called “María.” On this song we fused Latin rhythms with pop, and it had a tempo and vibe that was distinct from everything else on the record, but it was also completely different from anything else I had ever done. I knew there was a certain amount of risk in releasing such different material, but the results spoke for themselves: “María” was the song that propelled me to the next level.

The shocking part is that the first time I played the song for a record label executive, he said, “Are you crazy? You have ruined your career! I can’t believe you are showing me this. You’re finished—this is going to be your last album.”

I remember that whole thing felt completely surreal. The guy completely exploded, without any real reason and without giving me the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and needless to say I was devastated. Even though I really liked the song we produced—I loved it, actually—hearing those words from the mouth of a high-ranking label executive made me doubt myself and the work I had done. This guy is not even a musician, so I’m sure he didn’t have the slightest clue about what it takes to lock yourself up in a studio and make music, everything you go through, emotionally speaking. But to me making music is a very personal process, so I felt he was attacking me at one of my most vulnerable moments, and I took everything he said very personally. I even got to the point where I imagined my career was essentially over, and that I would never again be able to make a record or perform live on a stage; nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

But despite the fear this horrific man planted in me, I remained silent. I didn’t say one word, not to him and not to anyone. I went through a few days of anxiety, but my consolation came a few days later when the boss of that hateful individual selected the song to be released as a single. The rest, of course, became history. “María” became a bestselling single in France, Spain, Germany, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, Finland, Italy, Turkey, and all of South America, where from the moment of its release it shot straight to the top of the charts. By the start of 1996 it was among the top ten bestselling singles, and I put it to the test when I performed it at the Viña del Mar International Song Festival, where the famous
monstruo de la quinta Vergara
¹
did not devour me. To the contrary: The song was a smash hit, and it hit hard.

It was very exciting. When we saw how well the song and the album were doing, we set off on a tour all over Latin America. At the end of the tour, I returned to New York, where I went straight into my role as Marius Pontmercy in
Les Misérables
, and lived those extraordinary weeks in the theater. There, something very interesting happened. As I was onstage each night on Broadway, people all over the world were singing and dancing to the sound of “María.” The song then crossed the Atlantic and reached Europe via Spain. During the summer and fall of 1996, the song continued to gain momentum, and it was thanks to it that I held a concert on Avenida 9 de Julio in Buenos Aires, Argentina—which is like performing in the middle of Times Square in New York or the Champs-Élysées in Paris. We were expecting a lot of people, but could have never predicted that over 250,000 people would show up! It was incredible, and we had a blast as I became one with the audience. The footage we shot that day was later immortalized in one of the videos for the song “María.” The Argentine audience was amazing, and I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The warmth of the reception I received from that incredible audience not only made me feel accomplished as far as the work I had done, but it was also a clear indication of everything that lay ahead.

The now infamous Latin Boom wouldn’t hit yet for another couple of years, but that same month, the Argentine newspaper
El Clarin
was way ahead of the trend when they published a piece about the Latin fever that, according to them, was starting to sweep through the United States. I was mentioned as one of the artists introducing Latin rhythms to audiences that couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. Later, when the Latin Boom hit with full fury, thundering through every inch of the planet, the article turned out to be prophetic.

Back then, and thanks in large part to the phenomenal concert we did in Buenos Aires, I felt I had the full support of the Latin American audience. Many of my fans knew me from my days in Menudo and we had all grown up together. Others were new admirers who only knew me as a solo artist. The support of the Latin American audiences has always been a source of great inspiration and pride for me, but at that moment, with everything that was going on around me, I felt that something huge was just about to happen. I wanted to broaden my horizons and reach new audiences throughout the world, including the United States and Europe. And the more I seemed to want it, the more opportunities began to pop up.

My career was on the rise and I was not going to let anything get in my way—not even a car accident in the mountains of Italy.

In 1997 I had the honor of being invited to the prestigious music festival of San Remo. We landed in Milan, where we were slated to board a helicopter to San Remo, but when we reached the mountains the sky closed in and the pilot said: “We’re not going to make it. I am going to land the helicopter so that you can continue by car.”

We didn’t have much time, and the last thing we wanted was to be disrespectful by arriving late. So the moment we landed, we continued by car at top speed in order to make it on time. The truth is we were going very fast, some 120 miles per hour, the wheels screeching with every turn. Suddenly we arrived at a turn where the car just couldn’t take any more, and it turned upside down! But just as I said, I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way. As soon as we made sure none of us had more than a couple of scratches and bruises, we grabbed all the equipment and looked for a taxi. We finally made it to the red carpet, slightly shaken but on time. “Everything okay?” we were asked. “Yes, yes, yes!” we answered. “Perfect.” My agent later told the press that the car had slipped and we lost control in the rain—though the truth was a little worse than that. But we weren’t going to let a little car accident jeopardize our presence at such an important European music festival!

As “María” continued to top the charts around the world, many people started asking who this famous “María” might be. They wanted to know if she was someone I knew or wanted to know. Everyone had their own theory, and people’s theories were hilarious! For example, Charly Garcia (a music legend in Latin America; I call him the Great Master of
Rock en Español
) said in an interview, “I believe Ricky Martin is eulogizing drugs.” You see, the song’s lyrics say that “This is how María is, white like the day . . . and if you drink from her, she will surely kill you.” And for Charly Garcia, this phrase apparently referred to cocaine. Wow. The fact that Charly Garcia would even talk about one of my songs in one of his interviews was a huge honor. That the Great Master of
Rock en Español
would even notice my music was a sign that I was doing something right.

It goes without saying that Charly’s theory was not correct. I sang and danced and performed it at so many of my shows, but until Charly drew the connection to drugs, the idea had never even occurred to me! His interpretation completely changed the way I saw my song. And that is exactly what happens when you put a song out into the world: It becomes everyone’s property and everyone has the right to interpret it and live it as they see fit. Later I’d laugh, because the truth is that once you dive into the subject of cocaine, there is plenty of material to go around.

Whether people danced because they thought the song was in praise of drugs or because they thought they knew the María who the song was about, the one sure thing is that everyone who heard it danced to it. And that was a lot of people! That summer I did a concert tour in Spain, a run of forty-five shows in thirty-six cities. Then in December I gave four concerts in France and Switzerland, starting in Paris. “María” was already one of the top ten songs there and in Italy. It also received a gold record in Switzerland, Sweden, England, Belgium, and Greece. The song unfurled all over the continent, and I followed it. In total, the album
A medio vivir
sold over 7 million copies around the world, an astounding figure when compared to my previous sales. Later, concerts and chart-topping hits followed in many more countries, and in each case it was “María” that would continue to open doors for me.

As “María” took the world by storm, in 1997 I returned to the studio to record my next album. Like everything else in life, music has its own trajectory and everything has its moment. I wanted to release another album before the public’s enthusiasm for
A medio vivir
started to dissipate, but I didn’t want to disappear completely in the process. So I continued doing the concerts and the ongoing promotion in new markets for
A medio vivir
while I recorded
Vuelve (Come Back)
. It was brutal and incredibly intense. When you’re recording an album, you need a certain amount of space to concentrate, think, and connect with your creative being. But when you are on tour, you need to give it everything you’ve got. The permanent contradiction between these two states was, for me, totally draining.

And I couldn’t rest long because soon another door opened. When we were almost finished with the recording of
Vuelve
, I was contacted by FIFA: They wanted to know if I was interested in creating a song for the 1998 World Cup, which was slated to take place in France. I have to admit that the challenge made me a bit nervous, but the massive growth potential for my career was such that I decided to accept. Once again, life was offering me an opportunity and I swiftly ran to meet it.

Right away, I joined forces with K. C. Porter and Robi Rosa, who had worked with me on
A medio vivir
and were now working with me on
Vuelve
. But for the World Cup song, we were also joined by Desmond Child. From that moment on, we began to look at the album as part of a global strategy to promote Latin music worldwide, so we chose and arranged the songs with the sole mission of getting the entire globe to dance and sing in Spanish. It was a unique opportunity to introduce the charms of Latin music to the rest of the world.

And that’s how we embarked on that adventure. The single that resulted from that collaborative effort was “
La Copa de la Vida”
(“The Cup of Life”), and it served as the official anthem of the 1998 World Cup. It was a huge success that hit number one on the music charts in more than sixty countries. Another indication of what the future would hold.

Vuelve
was released in February of 1998, and in April I started a concert tour through Asia, which began in Tokyo. More than one year later, when I was starting to wrap up the tour, a journalist from
Rolling Stone
magazine asked me: “Why did you choose this path? Why Asia and Europe before the United States?”

The answer was easy: Because this was the path that life had offered. All I had to do was follow it.

The night of July 12, 1998, was one of the most important nights of my career, and the entire time I was fully aware of how much was at stake. It was the World Cup final. Not only were there hundreds of millions of people watching me perform “The Cup of Life” on television in all the corners of the world, but some of the most recognized and respected names in the entertainment industry were right there in the famous Stade de France. Among them were Dustin Hoffman, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael Douglas, Luciano Pavarotti, José Carreras, and Plácido Domingo. My performance was scheduled for immediately prior to the game, and would only last for four minutes. That meant I only had four minutes to turn one quarter of the world population into fans, or possibly lose them forever.

Before the show I was very nervous. Despite the fact that I had performed tons of live shows in front of hundreds of thousands of people on stages and in theaters throughout the world, this was the first time I had done anything quite so epic. And no matter how much experience you may have, a stage like the Stade de France on the night of the World Cup final is beyond intimidating. It was almost unimaginable!

Besides, what no one knew—except for the FIFA officials and a group of my closest friends—was that my performance during the ceremony almost didn’t happen. At some point, FIFA had told me that there was a chance I might be able to perform at the final, but before they had a chance to confirm it, I went ahead and announced it to the press.
Bad call
. FIFA, of course, was supposed to make the announcement, and my faux pas made them angry. Very angry. Instead of either confirming or canceling my appearance, they decided to punish me by leaving the whole thing unresolved—until five days before the game, and the whole time they didn’t say a word about my performance to me or to anyone else. I, of course, was dying. I really wanted to perform, and I didn’t want a stupid announcement to the press to ruin that chance! They finally gave me the green light, but with one condition: For the show I would have no stage, no dancers, no lights, and no special effects. I would have none of the things that are standard for a concert of this caliber. I was supposed to do a global performance without a global production, or any production at all.