It was only Leiden’s second or third song of the night, a ranchera – the music of love, passion, heartbreak, powerful emotions. Powerful music. In fact, it was the first ranchera she’d ever written.

“My father said to me,” recalled the Mexico City-based singer, “if you are going to sing rancheras, you have to suffer to feel it.” She paused and smiled slyly. “Now I have a degree in suffering.”

(And she does, a degree in sociology.)

“I not only can sing rancheras, I can create rancheras!”

From off to the side of the stage, the artist Bea Aaronson looked up from the artworks she was creating in conjunction with the concert and shouted, “Suffering is the price of the sublime!”

Nailed it.

Leiden looked, smiled, and acknowledged the contribution before launching into the sublime, heart-tugging “Al Mar,” her very first ranchera.

If you are beginning to sense that this was no ordinary concert, well done.

It was the fifth in an intermittent series in which a musician or musical group is paired with a visual artist for the evening. They feed off each other’s energies. They explore their commonalities and diversions. They work separately while simultaneously co-creating something new and exciting.

This was Saturday night in a sold-out performance at Lolita’s Restaurant on Salida a Salida. The shows are the brainchild of Club Social San Miguel’s Sheree Boyer, who spent many years immersed in the music industry in Canada.

I can’t speak for previous match-ups, although I’ve always heard good things afterward. This one was a match made in heaven.

Both Leiden and Aaronson are fearless. Neither believes in borders between genres. Aaronson works in every medium imaginable to create her paintings and sculptures, and does not hesitate to mash up collage with found objects with acrylics with watercolors with glitter – if that is what it takes to make a statement on canvas.

Leiden, too, powers through traditional Mexican folk, punk, pop, experimental, and more with joyful abandon  – always reaching for the perfect expression for the moment.

The two creators opened the show with a brief sit-down to discuss their artistic passions. It was a chance for the audience to get to know them, but it was the first chance for them to get to know each other.

“We have known each other … today,” said Leiden brightly as they took to their stools.

Serving as host and instigator, Boyer posed a single question to them both, “What does your art mean to you?” It was the only question needed for the next 15 minutes.

Aaronson jumped right in. In her lilting French accent, she said, “It is my sanity. My therapy. I could not go one day without creating!”

Leiden replied, “I also see music as my media to connect … I can tell stories with the music to connect with other people. And for me, also, the music can heal.

“When I make a song, I feel like the creative cycle begins, but only when I share the song is the cycle finished.”

Aaronson agreed enthusiastically, “Once I finish, the art does not belong to me, but to you, the beholder. Without sharing, it means nothing.”

The dialogue would soon shift to their respective stages. Leiden with her music and Aaronson at her table with a collection of paints, brushes, objects of curiosity, and blank canvases. While one sang, the other created on blank pages.

While the rest of us enjoyed Leiden’s music on an emotional and aesthetic level, Aaronson took it a step further. As they separated, she turned to Leiden and said, “Your music provokes in me colors and shapes.”

It is what Aaronson called “pure synesthesis.” Yes, when she hears music, she sees color, and that is what she intended to transfer to the canvas that night.

Leiden took us on an intimate musical journey through her life, one that started in Cuba, and later in Tijuana, and to school in Guadalajara, and now Mexico City. She has drawn influences from the unique music of each. 

“Destino,” one of her most popular songs, sprang from the complications of being in love during the Covid era. “Black Tears” is rooted in her Cuban heritage. She was joined on stage by her accompanist, singer-guitarist Pedro, and the popular local folk-pop singer Stephy Loren.

At the end, she attempted for the first time publicly, and succeeded beautifully, with her version of the classic Gershwin aria, “Summertime.” 

And here is where things got really interesting. As the audience rose to its feet, applauding and shouting “Otra! Otra!” Leiden began singing a capella. She stepped off the low stage and began working her way through the cavernous restaurant.

As she sang and roamed the room, she stopped and made contact with virtually every person. She shook hands, she gave hugs, she kissed a cheek, she smiled, and nodded, all the time repeating the hypnotically enchanting verses until every person had been graced.

Then, in mid-verse, she slipped suddenly out a side door, leaving behind a stunned silence drenched in grace, awe, and gratitude.

I have never seen anything quite like it.