Infamous south-of-the-border pop belter Gloria Trevi has well and truly got it all. A pepper-hot stage persona, a wildly physical presentation equal parts semi-acrobatic dance moves and indecent come-hither abandon, a high-volume hypercrunchy melodic dynamism and a singularly lurid reputation — the black honey of her past as a convict and international fugitive running from criminal charges of procuring and exploiting a gaggle of teenage aspirants as sexual playthings for her then manager.
And, perhaps best of all, a lyrical penchant for championing women's rights and skewering the fragile machismo congenital to so many Hispanic males. A sociocultural whirlwind La Trevi is, and in performance all of it combines for an eye-popping display of unbridled celebration. Vivid, vulgar and charming all at once, Trevi even makes rock & roll libertine Alejandra Guzman seem tame by comparison (and that, kiddies, is no small feat), but her mix of showstopping high jinks and indomitable survivalism ranks her as one of the most arresting (no pun intended) Mexi-pop temptresses of all time.