A Tuesday to cry (and laugh) with Cristian Castro
Normally, a Tuesday is for planning the week. Not to go to a concert to shed tears. But Cristian Castro, in the National Auditorium, tore up the manual. Wearing purple and with a set that looked like something out of a retro arcade, he turned the night into a strange and perfect mix: romantic drama, humor and pure 90s nostalgia.
The first thing you notice: the voice is still there. Those high notes that made him unmistakable on Latin radio sounded with a force that transports you instantly. It started with “Se gone el sol” and the atmosphere was already hot.
“Hello Mexico,” he greeted, before releasing a classic but effective compliment: “you are the stars.”
The night was a masterful construction of nostalgia. At one point, he asked the audience directly:
“Who came to cry? It’s Tuesday and they’re halfway there, right? It’s hard to cry on Tuesday… can you? You’ll be able to.”
Laughter. Shouting. And the confirmation that we were all there for the same thing: to feel.
The moments that defined the night
The venue was transformed into a massive choir for hymns such as “My life without your love”, “Azul” or “You won’t be able to”. But it wasn’t all melancholy. Castro was also playful.
He joked about his physique, saying that his method for losing weight was simple: “stop eating crumbs”. He did a surprise medley mixing “Raining Stars” with the chorus of “Friday I’m in Love” by The Cure. He played the tambourine. He even signed… a banana.
Yes, you read that right. He promised that fruit as a prize to whoever remembered “Just give me one night”, chose a fan and autographed the banana before throwing it to the public. Absurd. Brilliant.
Among the audience, familiar faces: Julio César Chávez (who even went up to hug him), Pati Chapoy, Maxine Woodside. The singer changed his looks – from the initial purple to a tuxedo – while reviewing songs like “Por amarte Así” and “Es mejor como” (It’s better like this).
Near the end, he dedicated “Lloran las rosas” to his grandmother. When he left the stage after the encore, the Auditorium was still illuminated by thousands of cell phones. Nobody wanted to stop singing.
We close with “Azul”, of course. Because some hymns never go out of style. And because sometimes, even on a Tuesday, it’s okay to go cry for a while.
