Richard Cortez might be just 19 years of age, but he has done a lot of living. After moving to New York City to attend the American Musical & Dramatic Academy more than a year ago, Cortez made the decision to come back to home base and get serious about a solo singing career.

“I was going to school and trying to do music at the same time,” Cortez says. “I would find myself at Kinko’s making flyers at 3 a.m. and then having to get up for class at 6. Finally I started weighing out my options and figured I should just go with my heart.”

With the new CD “Craving Something Beautiful” on his own label Wollenberg Records, Cortez will play his first Florida show in more than a year at Java Boys on June 17. He will follow up with a second gig on the main stage of the Stonewall Street Festival on June 19.

Cortez began performing at the age of 5 with the Fort Lauderdale Children’s theater. From elementary school through high school, he attended magnet programs in musical theater. But media attention first came to Cortez under a menacing spotlight.

While attending a magnet program for musical theater at Dillard High School and the regular program at Charles W. Flanagan High School, Cortez appeared in a video that encouraged tolerance and acceptance of gay students.

The video caught the attention of notorious Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church, a reviled group known for picketing the funerals of Matthew Shepard and people with AIDS.

Bravely flashing the peace sign, Cortez confronted Phelps and his goons. The experience made Cortez stronger and more self-accepting than ever.

Already performing at local venues such as the Pride Factory before being accepted to AMDA, Cortez was ready to explore the Big Apple, an experience he says has been invaluable.

In Manhattan Cortez played regular shows in the financial district and the East Village. After moving out of the dorms, he lived in the artsy Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn while working as a bar back in a Chelsea piano bar called Helen’s.

He says also met scores of fellow performers, some of whom came down to Florida to help him record “Craving Something Beautiful” at the Red Room, a local recording studio.

“I just thought if I am going to do this, I am going to do this right,” Cortez reflects. “I am going to go home and start a record label and put my music out.”

Cortez knows first hand that New York is full of all kinds of people trying to make it. It was just too costly and difficult to try to record an album there.

His family has been a source great support. His mother took money set aside for school to help Cortez in his ventures. He describes his mother as both “great and satisfied.”

There was also the issue of learning how to drive. Despite growing up in spread out South Florida, Cortez never got his driver’s license. Knowing that he would want to tour other states to support his music, becoming a driver was a huge priority.

In addition to touring and playing local venues, Cortez plans to promote his music heavily on the Internet. Initially he will put a heavy focus on gay music venues and the gay music scene. It helps that Cortez is completely honest in who he is through lyrics.

“A lot of my music is about my relationships with men,” he says. “It is also about wanting more, something better. Hence the title ‘Craving Something Beautiful.’”

In the past, being himself proved to be an obstacle. A production company that worked with Ricky Martin and Madonna approached Cortez about a deal, but only if he would play it straight and change all the “he’s” to “she’s” in his lyrics. Cortez took a pass.

Instead he hopes by staying true to himself and targeting a gay audience, he will find success on his own terms.

“I refuse to succumb to the mainstream marketed music industry,” Cortez says. “I want to be in charge of my creative freedom.”

In addition to “Craving Something Beautiful,” Cortez plans on recording an acoustic release very soon. For his upcoming gigs, he will be joined by cello player Greg Bortnichak, a straight collaborator Cortez loves working with. Through it all Cortez intends to stay comfortable in his own skin.

“I totally look forward to being one of those elegant, older gay men,” Cortez laughs. “ I want to settle down with a lover, surrounded by art deco with a glass of wine in my hand and raise a cat.”

But before that happens, this openly gay singer and songwriter has his work cut out for him.

“I’m trying to be a voice for my generation, which is otherwise growing up with Paris Hilton as a spokesperson.”

Richard Cortez had a homecoming of sort as he performed a one-hour acoustic set at Borders on East Sunrise Blvd. this past Saturday night. Friends, family and fans gathered to hear the funky folk style of the 18 year-old troubadour belt out his layered lyrics filled with heartache and hope (sort of a Phil Ochs without the darkness).

Border’s was filled with his young friends and fans, sitting on the floor, leaning against bookcases and standing to get a chance to hear Cortez, who is currently attending college in New York City (American Musical and Dramatic Academy). “There’s so many people I love here tonight, it’s so comforting,” he said just before the performance. “It’s like returning to the womb.”

Cortez first came to the gay media’s attention when he appeared in the GLSEN video produced in South Florida to help educate teachers and administrators about gay and lesbian students. The video caused controversy among the various religious leaders and brought the infamous cult leader Fred Phelps to town, who proclaimed that Cortez would be joining Matthew Shepard in hell. Cortez didn’t let the whacko phase him and stood up to protest the protest.

He is making quite an impression, not only with his music, but with his integrity as well. Cortez says that record labels have approached him with promises of fame and fortune — all he has to do is pretend that he’s straight. It would certainly be the easiest road on which to travel. All he would have to do is play the role of a straight man, talk about a make-believe girlfriend, change a few lyrics from the masculine to the feminine and rake in the cash. However, Cortez says, “That’s all a lie. It’s not me.”

With his comfortable presence on the stage, his song-writing talent and his strong foundation, I’m confident he won’t need the short cuts through hetero-American-consumerism.

Up next was an young guy with a true gift for writing lyrics: Outmusic Open Mic fave Richard Cortez. The song was "The Time It Takes to Love", which he described as "for all the people who fucked us over". Previously, Cortez has done some comical stuff like "Boyfriend to Be"... but this time he showed us the flipside of desire, with a song more confrontational and accusatory in tone (and prompting Robert Urban to note," It looks like the gay community has a new Bob Dylan!"):
"...and just because your boyfriend is out of town,
doesn't mean you get to remember my number now;
I'm not some one night red light special that you can try,
and I'm not gonna say this until you look me in the eye,
so don't get up your hopes this time because I'm not gonna cry over you."
The song ended with more "Fuck you"s than an episode of "The Sopranos"!

Open Mic favorite Ritchie Cortez, who has done such crowd-pleasers as "Boyfriend to Be" in the past. Tonight, it was"Christmas in July", subtitled "another song for the broken hearted". Check out these lyrics: "So deck the halls and build a gingerbread house, and when not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse; I'll be the one by the window watching the snow coming down, with my hands in my pocket wishing you were around". Sort of like George Michael's "Last Christmas" for the young queer generation.

Following Corinne was Richard Cortez, new to New York from Florida and making his Open Mic debut that night.   Armed with guitar, Richard (named April's "Singer-Songwriter Artist of the Month" in South Florida's "Quintessential" Magazine) performed a number called "boyfriend-to-be", AKA "a different kind of love song". His performance, with lyrics like "You're just so goddamn sweet, your deep like Meryl Streep, If you were mine to keep, I would sleep with you all day...", was funny, inventive, and dynamic... and such a crowd-pleaser that he was recruited by Reuben Butchart to be in Reuben's "Meow Men" show a week later.

Not playing it straight

The music of Richard Cortez gives voice to angst and hopes of gay youth

At age 18, local singer and songwriter Richard Cortez has already stood up to homophobic preacher Fred Phelps and the profit mongers of the music industry. He has already had his 15 minutes of fame and turned down one chance at greater renown because he didn’t want to “play it straight.”

'I give it my all on stage both emotionally and physically,' says teen gay singer/songwriter Richard Cortez. His lyrics about gay life are candid and sometimes shocking.

The 15 minutes of fame came when Cortez confronted Phelps’ followers two years ago as they picketed his high school in Pembroke Pines. Back then, Cortez ended up on Phelps’ “God Hates Fags” web site.

Cortez’s chance at real celebrity came recently when he was approached by a production company that worked with Madonna and Ricki Martin.

“They loved my music, and they said they would give me a top 10 hit,” Cortez says. “ They said, ‘We’ll make you famous, but you have to play it straight.’ They told me I would have to change my lyrics: change the 'he's' to 'she's.' For them to tell me I have to talk about a girlfriend on stage was too much.”

So Cortez continues to make his own CDs. He gives them away to friends and new fans at venues ranging from the Pride Factory in Fort Lauderdale to the Orange Bear bar in New York.

“Music is my calling card,” he says. “My music is slowly but surely making its way around the United States. I do all of my own promotion, my own recording. I buy all the cases, make all the labels.”

On Saturday, April 17, some of Cortez’s fans, including members of the local gay youth group, got a taste of Cortez’s homespun tunes at Borders Books & Café on Sunrise Avenue in Fort Lauderdale.

Sitting under copies of the “South Beach Diet” book, Cortez strummed a guitar and sang in his expressive, and often emotional, style.

He never changed a “he” to “she,” as he candidly described the “culture shock” of the gay scene in New York or the angst and hopes of his new love life in a dorm “chock full of homos” at the American Musical and Dramatics Academy, where he started classes last October.

Cortez’s life has always been immersed in music and theater.

He was enamored with the show tunes that his mother played in the car. At age 5, Cortez started acting in productions at Fort Lauderdale Children’s theater. From elementary school through high school, he attended magnet programs in musical theater.

When he came out at age 13, his mother recalls asking, “What took you so long?”

At age 13 Cortez experienced his first kiss — on stage.

“I had to kiss a girl during a performance of ‘Babes in Arms’ in West Palm Beach,” he recalls. “It was all right.”

Confronting Phelps
Cortez attended the magnet program for musical theater at Dillard High School and the regular program at Charles W. Flanagan High School. Two years ago while he was at Flanagan, Cortez appeared in a video for the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network that encouraged tolerance and acceptance of gay students.

Phelps’s group saw the video and decided to picket the school. Flashing a peace sign, Cortez confronted the group outside.

In the ultimate act of bullying, Phelps posted the 16-year-old Cortez’s name on his “God Hates Fags” web site with a screed about Cortez and the school’s principal burning in hell.

Cortez was sometimes the target of anti-gay harassment and bullying at school.

Last year, he dropped out of high school and got his GED, but he insists that it wasn’t because he was gay or harassed.

“I left school to think for myself,” he explains.

He was accepted into the American Musical and Dramatics Academy in New York City, which trains aspiring actors and musicians for Broadway shows.

Folk hop or folk funk?
He may not have a big-name music label yet, but people are already putting labels on his music.

“It's been called ‘folk hop’ because it’s got a funky twist to it,” Cortez says. “I prefer ‘folk funk.’”

In between songs, Cortez often speaks from the heart about his life and the various inspirations for his music.

“I do a lot of talking, a lot of dialogue,” Cortez says. “I tell people where the songs came from. It’s all spur of the moment. I’m an open vessel to my emotions.”

Cortez credits his background in musical theater with helping to shape his stage presence.

“Musical theater pried me open; it made me look at myself,” Cortez says.

When you ask him what his favorite musical is, it comes as no surprise that the answer is not “Oklahoma.” “My favorite is ‘Elegies for Angels, Punks and Raging Queens,’ by Bill Russell and Janet Hood,” he says.

Coming of age
His CD “Boyfriend to Be” is his take on the Fort Lauderdale gay scene, which he found to be a big change from his somewhat sheltered life in Pembroke Pines.

“I learned about things like golden showers and twinks,” he said. Much of the CD deals with his frustration with dating and being single in the gay world.

There are hints that he may be on the road to fame. He pulled in $150 from a show at the Orange Bear bar in New York. “The place was packed,” he recalls.

He is also producing a CD called “One Man Band Revolution” in a professional studio, and he plans to sell it.

But he seems in no hurry.

He’s content to keep on giving away his CDs until a company comes along that will pay him to be himself — one that won’t make him change the “he's” to “she's.”

I’m sitting here writing at you on the morning of October 5th, 2003. 2003 is winding down, and as with so many years in recent history, it’s hard to separate our impressions of what it was and what it meant, and know how we’re supposed to feel. Ambiguity is slowly killing off optimism, I think, and I’ve been getting concerned.

            This morning, I am not concerned.

            Seventeen-year-old Richard Cortez, who in the past has been so outrageous as to raise the ire of Fred Phelps—and confront him head-on—gave his first full-length local concert at The Pride Factory last night, and for this somewhat embittered itinerant writer, it was more than a revelation.

            

            For years, pop culture has defined the limits of the public consciousness. What it is acceptable to feel, the ways in which concepts are understood and apply to our inner, private lives as well as the public drama in which we are all bit players, are articulated for us by the voices we elect to speak for us, with our dollars and with our attentions. This has been a force for good in the past—in 1966, when we were told that life was full of possibilities and were led to believe it; in 1977, when some aspects of the pop culture shed light on the Great Lie, and warned us of death by boredom and homogenization. 1992 allowed us, briefly, a glimpse of pain and anguish lurking beneath the then-cracking polish of eighties boom.

            Since then, those voices which have deigned to reinvent the wheel and make it all new and fresh for us again have been mired in uncertainty, and at best, have been coolly esoteric. The artistic abstractions of those elite few who, at any given time, “know what’s up,” have made it impossible for their ideas to directly accomplish their ends—to make something meaningful of the pop-music medium, and allow it to mean as much to us today as it did when rock’n’roll first rocketed us across the chasm cleaving Before from After, and snapped the frayed umbilicus keeping the Future awkwardly tethered to the bad old ways of the Past.

Richard Cortez, and those like him (if there are any, which I tend to doubt), may be the antidote to this malaise.

Strumming near the rear of the tiny stage as he was being introduced, Cortez suddenly danced up to the mic and swallowed it, and his audience. A presence so weirdly charismatic is rarely witnessed in this intimate a setting—the contrast between performance quality and venue was so striking as to become surreal by the third or fourth song.

Musically, it was sheer queer folk-funk: Ani with the lyrical subtlety and vocal expressiveness of Dylan. The secret’s in the voice, I think—a conversational bass that tapers into a precise vibrato that’s almost a coloratura trill, suddenly twisting into powerful, vowel-filled exclamations when the words themselves fail. It wraps around the guitar lines, and his songs, which on paper appear to be pleas for love or understanding, or vulgar declamations of stupidity and meanness, are transformed by the delivery into the most intimate of conversations. That the audience shares every sentiment is never in doubt—Richard’s feelings, and his views of them, become our own.

This is what pop art—which is to say, art fitting the aesthetics of popular culture—can do, at its best. It can say the things we never took the time to, or never thought to, and can inform the way we think about them for all time. More often than not, this is accomplished through honesty. “Boyfriend To Be,” a wordy personal profile that’s one-half ballsy, brash M4M singles ad and one half plaintive plea for love (“So what is it that you’re looking for out there/Skinny dipping in that sea of men/’Cause if you are looking for me/There’s no need to swim baby/I’m a freshwater, fly/fast-paced kind of guy/My waist is a twenty-nine/I’m just a boyfriend to be”) seems to be the kind of song that most singer-songwriters would trade their Simon and Garfunkel collections for. For its four-and-a-half minute duration, it actually seems to say all the things that need to be said but never have been. For a little while, it seems, Richard has the courage and the understanding to speak for me from the stage. This feeling of identification is shared with all who hear these songs, live—they’re too well crafted, too erudite, for this not to be the case.

I wasn’t alive in 1966, but I miss it all the same—people issued their demands and reasonably expected that they would be met. Peace was demanded, understanding was demanded, a new and more sensible way of living on earth was demanded. These demands were met with silence, and that silence had turned, by 1973, into a cynicism that still has yet to fade from public consciousness.

Avoiding all clichés and pretensions, Richard dashes that cynicism, convincing any who listen of the lingering presence of possibility and potential, in a world where such things are harder and harder to come by. Whether his explosive mix of honesty and optimism will propel him on to ever-greater heights or relegate him to the land of anachronism has yet to be determined, but I’m banking on the latter.

            Richard speaks for that eternally innocent part of each of us that is driven underground at an early age and, by adulthood, only ever surfaces in our warmest and most trusting dreams, skirting that fine line between wisdom and naiveté. This is a part of us that is never given enough consideration, and never informs our decisions and our lives as it should.

            I wish there were more of Richard Cortez to go around. Sadly, Saturday was his farewell show. Next week, he’s off to pursue a higher education in New York, New York. Hope you got to see him—we shan’t find another like him. - BKT

"Local singer/musician and gay youth activist Richard Cortez will give a farewell performance at The Pride Factory on Oct. 4 before heading to Manhattan, where he will attend The American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA).

The Express first reported on Cortez when he was an openly gay student featured in a GLSEN Video titled “Dignity for all Students: Gay and Lesbian Youth.” The purpose of the video was to educate Broward County School faculty on tolerance and understanding for homosexuals. When anti-gay protester Fred Phelps and his sparse band of followers came to Charles Flanagan High School in Pembroke Pines to protest the video, Cortez bravely faced them in a counter protest.

Since that time, Cortez has kept busy at open mic sessions at The Pride Factory, where he performs his own music. Cortez plays piano and guitar and has recorded two CDs with 30 original songs. He describes his music as experimental.

“A friend of mine called it folk-hop, which is really interesting,” he said. “Most of it is bouncy and upbeat. I just write about what happens in my life, and usually I write a new song every week.”

Cortez recently auditioned for six schools, and chose AMDA after traveling to New York and singing “Being Alive” from the classic Broadway musical Company. The prestigious school is located at 2109 Broadway.

“I chose AMDA because my heart has always been in New York,” he said. “I got into a school which is right near Central Park, and I’ll probably never be able to live that life ever again.”

Richard Cortez will perform Oct. 4, from 7 to 9:30 p.m., at The Pride Factory, which is located at 845 N. Federal Hwy. in Fort Lauderdale. Call 954.463.6600 for directions."