It would be easier to name the artists who had hits before they were thirty years old and who faded rather quickly. But how does one go from teenybopper to superstar?

If, freshly moved to Mexico, you want to impress their new native friends, you’ll need to know these three idols who did. Drop these names — along with some song titles — into a cocktail chat and poof: you’re the coolest gringo at the party.

José José

If Frank Sinatra invites you to sing a duet, you’re the real deal. While the duet never took place due to contractual obligations, José José, undoubtedly flattered, burst into the pop stratosphere. Later, he repaid the compliment by recording a Spanish version of “New York, New York.”

Perhaps the best way to understand José José is to enjoy the covers that helped make him famous. Remember the “Pina Colada” song? The writer, Rubert Holmes, also wrote another wonderfully cheesy song entitled “Him” in 1980 about a jealous lover. José José, clearly seeing the heartthrobiness, created a Spanish version of equal yearning. Both songs are terrifically swoony and set the stage for a career seemingly aimed at teary adolescent girls.

In a way, José José is the quintessential heartthrob. That is, if the goal is to have audience members sway back and forth and get pissed off that their boyfriends can’t be more like him. Just mention his name at a gathering and women of a certain age and you will get wanting looks in their eyes while men will roll theirs. Classic idol.

• Nickname: El príncipe de la canción, Mr. Sold Out
• Comparable Idol: Engelbert Humperdinck 

Luis Miguel

Selling out an 80,000-seat stadium is just another day in the office for Luis Miguel. Ex-girlfriend Mariah Carey stood in awe of his ability to do so. He sold 2.2 million concert tickets… this year. That’s Taylor Swift territory. 

Despite being born in Puerto Rico in 1970, Luis Miguel is now a Mexican citizen. But, if you were to ask for the most romantic boleros ever sung, Luis Miguel’s name would come up. This Puerto Rican is about as Mexican as one can get. 

• Nickname: El Sol de México
• Comparable Idol: George Michael

Juan Gabriel

To put Juan Gabriel in the category of heartthrob is almost disrespectful. To be sure, he was outrageously handsome in his early years and could easily qualify as a teen idol. Yet, it would be like calling Paul McCartney a former Mop Top or labeling Stevie Wonder “that cute kid from Motown.” Juan Gabriel is, quite simply, a national treasure.  

The main characteristic that differentiates Mr. Gabriel from the other two artists is the fact that he wrote most of his own songs. This hardly disqualifies singers from being idols or heartthrobs. After all, Sinatra didn’t write his own songs.

But for the sake of comparison, José José claimed he was an interpreter of songs and was fortunate to work with talented writers. Luis Miguel wrote just a handful; four or five. Juan Gabriel reportedly wrote 1800 songs, and this puts him in a category that very few can claim company. Paul McCartney, by comparison, has written 1,059 to date.

His songs, like the others, range from all that Mexican music has to offer with its myriad styles and traditions. But the proof of his command of melody cannot be ignored when hearing his hit “Querida.” Or, for pop sensibilities with a hint of country, his hit about a favorite disco, “Noa Noa” is impossible not sing along. Think “Copacabana” in Spanish and without a story about a guy getting shot.

If there is any doubt about how deeply Mexicans hail this outrageously talented composer, one only needs to watch his overwhelming 2013 performance at Bellas Artes. Afterwards, you won’t want to be a specialist on Mexican music. You will want to be Mexican.

• Nickname: El Divo de Juárez
• Comparable Idol: There is only one Juan Gabriel.

Certainly, there are more names that could be added to the list: Alejandro Fernández, Lorenzo Antonio, Jorge Negrete and more. But ask any local over the age of 40 to name the Three Kings of Mexican Pop and more than likely, these are on top of nearly everyone’s list.

How did we do? Leave your suggestions in the comments section and expand all our playlists.

Jimmy Monack is a teacher, photographer and award-winning writer. He profiles interesting people all around the world as well as writing about and photographing rock concerts. He lives in Mexico City. www.jimmymonack.com

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With three locations in the capital, Burger Bar Joint has offered fame for twelve years, a certificate and a gift card to any who can finish the fires, beer and Hades-level spicy burger in three minutes or less. According to the manager of the Roma location, Omar López, only a few participants finish each year. And few even come close to the record just north of two minutes. And it is never a gringo. Gringos never win.

On a chilly Friday night on Avenida Álvaro Obregón, three willing eaters attempted to make history in three minutes. They all failed.

“No pica! No pica!” shouted Hugo Velazquez as he blasted into the first few bites of a burger roughly as tall as a bowling ball. But two minutes in, his eyes looked like those of a man with deep regrets. A few days later, he admitted he was lying and that his stomach at the time was surpassing the volcanic potential of Popocatépetl. 

Juan Vidal Chamo was in trouble immediately. Within thirty seconds, tears started to pool in his eyes, and he continued to shake his head as if he had just realized he had married the wrong woman. His life would never be the same.

The odd one was the young Yael de la Sancha, who would not win either but kept the mood light by cracking jokes and silly comments between bites, making it even harder for the others to swallow. The crazy dude was actually having fun! Kids these days.

The accompanying pageantry of sparklers and a staff-led countdown makes it impossible for someone to back out at the last minute. Once the contest starts, giving up before the three minutes would result in crowd shaming of the highest order. 

It makes one wonder about ridiculous contests like this in general. Why do humans do these things? Well, because it is considered a sport. Heck, if poker can be featured on ESPN, why not hot dog eating? In fact, it is.

Around the world, eating contests draw huge crowds. There is a long history dating back to the Roman Empire involving overeating, hence the myth about the vomitorium. One chap in England named Nicholas Wood known as The Great Eater of Kent is rumored to have eaten an entire sheep. A French soldier named Tarrare may or may not have eaten a whole toddler in a single sitting (whether or not you find this achievement impressive is a sort of Rorschach test).

But the kings of gluttony would, quite obviously, be the Americans. Who else would have an official league for such a venture? Professional eaters can travel the circuit of Major League Eating to win prizes by chomping down on tamales in Lewisville, TX, chicken wings in Orchard Park, NY, or glazed donuts in Washington, DC. 

If that is not enough, other countries have taken their traditional cuisine and attached a time. Austria has the Schnitzel Challenge. Croatia has the “Nightmare” BBQ Platter Challenge. Singapore hosts the Jumbo Korean Jajangmyeon Bowl Challenge. And, of course, Italy holds the Spaghetti Carbonara Pasta Challenge.

Strangely, Mexico is a bit late to the competitive eating game, considering its proximity to Texas and all things larger than life. Considering cultural events such as lucha libre and a festival dedicated to blowing stuff up, it would seem that this extreme pastime would have been part of the landscape long ago. Perhaps the time is ripe for a whole series of Mexican competitive eating.

After all, how hard would it be to offer prizes for contestants to fill themselves with burritos, camotes, chile en nogada or big-ass bowls of nopal? 

Until then, make the loser take a trip to the Burger Bar Joint in any wager you may have won and watch them fail at another ridiculous contest. The looks on people’s faces will make it all worth it. 

Jimmy Monack is a teacher, photographer and award-winning writer. He profiles interesting people all around the world as well as writing about and photographing rock concerts. He lives in Mexico City. www.jimmymonack.com

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The global phenomenon “The Empire Strips Back” has landed in CDMX after conquering Paris, San Francisco, Sydney and other cities far, far away. Yet, the crowd at El Foro 1869 on Sept. 12 seemed more than ready to battle the dark side with… well, the dark side. The only “force” on display was the struggle to hold back laughter and cheers.

Burlesque never claimed to be highbrow. Almost by definition, it’s a spectacle designed for hooting and hilarity more than titillation. Dating back to the 17th century, this art form has surged and receded throughout history, notably flaring up in the United States on the eve of the Civil War. Perhaps a few more tassels might have kept the North and South from four years of bloodshed.

Despite the show’s title, this isn’t a strip show in the tawdry sense. It’s more like a journey through your favorite Star Wars characters, bringing to life the teenage boy fantasies of the ’70s. Yet the screams from the women in the crowd were louder than the men’s. Think of it as Geeky Date Night… with G-strings.

In recent years, other shows have embraced clever juxtapositions with a touch of saucy dancing. Major cities have been enchanted by burlesque versions of zombies, Marvel characters, Harry Potter and even the sacred Wizard of Oz. And let’s be real — who’s sexier: Dorothy or the Wicked Witch of the West? The latter, of course. And so it goes with “Empire.”

The current show keeps the tradition of cheesecake and grinding while staying within the bounds of legality. And who could argue with Princess Leia soaping up a spaceship, Chewbacca and Han Solo raising the roof with a little help from Run DMC or Obi-Wan Kenobi wielding a lightsaber in a decidedly less-than-deadly manner? 

Keeping the ball rolling is a master of ceremonies who starts as an Imperial general and ends as a Jedi pilot, cracking wise jokes between numbers. As the beer and tequila flow, the crowd’s interactions with him become increasingly… galactic.

The show-stopping number is, naturally, Darth Vader and her sensual stormtroopers — The only men in the show are Han Solo and, presumably, Chewbacca. It’s during this act that you realize the regalia is as much a star as the dancers, if not more so.

The costuming is cleverly skimpy. With realistic replicas of trooper masks, all it takes are strategically placed plastic patches on arms and thighs to recreate the iconic white armor. And with a spot-on helmet, Darth Vader’s most formidable weapon is, of course, her legs.

The choreography is reminiscent of “Flashdance” or “Magic Mike” in its simplicity. Again, this is burlesque, not the national ballet. It’s hard to tell who might be a professionally trained dancer — but who cares? The roars of approval erupt from the seats the moment a character is recognized.

One can only wonder what George Lucas would think of this latest incarnation of his 1977 masterpiece. Given his genius for marketing action figures and other toys, it’s hard to imagine he’d be surprised. There have been animated shows, novelizations, shows on ice and more. Maybe burlesque is the final — and fitting — installment.

“The Empire Strips Back” runs through Oct. 27 at El Foro 1869.

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