As I write this post, my mind goes back to the ideas posited in Claire Dederer’s new book, “Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma”. I keep thinking: to what degree do I promote or endorse the work of Miguel Bosé? At this moment in time, I can’t escape that I vehemently disagree with his most current views on COVID-19 and vaccines. To be anti-vaccine, as he vociferously is, is to ignore the very science that gives him a platform to speak and sing again. I cannot support this version of Miguel. Yet, I can’t escape that as fallible as a person he currently is, there was a window in his career and a certain part of his life that is admirable and worthwhile. That’s when my mind goes back to his totemic 1987 album, XXX.
Miguel Bosé was born Luis Miguel González Bosé on April 3, 1956, in Panama City, Panama, into a family deeply entrenched in the arts, making it appear as Bosé’s path to fame was almost predestined. It’s not often that one can say they spent their summers vacationing with equally problematic family friends Ernest Hemingway and Pablo Picasso. Yet, Miguel Bosé was born into affluence. His father was the legendary Spanish bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín, and his mother was Lucia Bosè, an Italian actress who was crowned Miss Italy in 1947. Growing up in a household where creativity and passion for the arts were celebrated, and where they could afford to pay for his acting, singing, and dancing lessons, Bosé was able to develop his early interest in music and performance and work to make his dreams of being famous come true.
In 1975, Bosé made his first foray into the music scene with his debut album, Linda, which showcased his smooth voice and eclectic musical style, inspired by glam groups like Roxy Music and the stage shows of David Bowie, that landed him the role of heartthrob balladeer. However, it was his second album, Miguel Bosé (1977), that catapulted him to stardom in Spain and Latin America, with hits like “Anna” and “El Juego Del Amor” and found him appearing as an actor in movies like “Suspiria” and “La Gabbia,” establishing himself as a multifaceted talent. At that moment in time, his music lacked a certain critical edge and appeared tailor-made for pop radio and the growing disco scene.
It was throughout the late ‘70s and early ‘80s when Bosé continued to solidify his status as a musical icon, releasing a string of successful albums and collaborating with renowned artists such as Juan Gabriel and Raphael, projecting his continental Europop elsewhere. His unique blend of pop, rock, and electronic dance music set him apart in the music industry, earning him a dedicated fan base around the world and making him a growing name in Latin America. 1983’s Milano – Madrid/Made In Spain came with what seemed improbable, an artistic cosign by Andy Warhol, who designed its album cover.
In 1984, Bosé released his critically acclaimed album Bandido, which featured the smash hit single “Amante Bandido,” a barn-burning Balearic anthem that became a hit all across the Spanish-speaking part of the world. The album itself marked a significant milestone in his career, cementing his reputation as one of the most influential Spanish-language artists of his generation. It’s the album that spurred him to take the reins of his music and shift from merely being a singer-songwriter. Donning his iconic torero outfits on stage, Miguel grabbed the figurative, creative bull by the horns, taking ownership of his career from then on.
Miguel Bosé post-Bandido was unlike any artist he had been compared to. Rather than run away from his sexuality, Miguel worked with brilliant Italian producer Celso Valli (see his: Blue Gas) to fuse his music with his mercurial personality, a sex symbol whose orientation was never completely known. You heard this in gorgeous “alternative” tracks like “Aire Soy,” “Cielo,” and its titular track. For once, before “Rock en español” could find its footing in America, Miguel (through his increasingly sophisticated sound) was carving out a universal music that leap-frogged oodles of albums and artists from his native Madrid scene. An English-language version of this album began to catch steam from continental Europe all the way to Australia.
A year later, Miguel would decide to shake things up. Nearing the ripe age of 30, for his next record he’d try to do what seemed like a pipe dream at the beginning: make an album to launch him to the English-speaking American market. With the marketing and money available for him to do so by signing to a major label, Warner Music, Miguel convinced ex-New Musik artist Tony Mansfield, who shaped a-ha’s Hunting High And Low, to help him create and produce what would become XXX. XXX pared down Miguel Bosé’s music to its most elemental form. Ballads that were once saccharine and maudlin became meditative and surprisingly atmospheric. The trends of dance music, always hovering behind his biggest hits, were left behind in search of more cutting-edge sounds that fit a different kind of movement. XXX shocks by being his most “adult” record.
Its lead single “The Eighth Wonder” would provide something of a stylistic sample. Coming in at over five minutes long, it signaled an unhurried exploration of the androgynous themes Miguel wanted to capture, of the body music he wanted to take its time to unravel. Singing over something that merited its François Kevorkian dance remix, “The Eighth Wonder” was pop done in a style unlike anyone else’s, one that sang about the hardships of living trans and dressing in drag, becoming his own “Walk On The Wild Side”.
What would make XXX a hit album outside critic circles would be the next single, “Como Un Lobo”. Over the most minimal electronic arrangement, Miguel Bosé sang with the maturity of his voice, treating listeners to a genuine song about heartbreak without the fuss hiding his true talent in the past. As sonically as XXX was, XXX (one can argue) had this special quality due to the breath of Miguel’s voice.
You hear Miguel’s voice coming into its own thing on tracks like “Que No Hay… (XXX)”/”New Tracks In The Dust” where macro-influences in jazz and ambient music are able to give Mr. Bosé some way to push and pull the edges of his phrasing and poetic writing, crafting deeply rich songs that seemingly can go on forever. Over six minutes long, it remains a fan favorite, rightfully so, for expressing a strain of Latin-tinged and Spanish-sung soul music rarely heard on radio.
Incomparable groove-based songs like “Corazon Infame” or “Quieres America”/”Want You More” on the Spanish-language version of XXX hover around that space left in the wake of Bryan Ferry’s “Don’t Stop The Dance”. XXX is full of passionate songs with slinky, sexy melodies that burrow under your skin. Yet, XXX is also full of surprisingly fragile, dreamy songs like “Justine”/”The Hurt Party”, songs that appeared inspired (once again) by sophisti-pop groups like Prefab Sprout, predicting the “sparkly” pop craft of those like The Go Betweens.
It was Bosé’s in-between music – that that put aside his “I’m a big deal” energy – that made this intimate album, arguably, his best. As a pop artist, songs like “La Gran Ciudad”/”Big City” or “Big Fun” struck that minimal maximalism that Mr. Big Time, Peter Gabriel, had found in his art pop. What made XXX such a big deal and keep it so, are those big deal songs that give us some sense of who Miguel was. Because, frankly, for an album so of its time it still amazes me how out of time all its sentiments and musicality are.
In the same year XXX was released, Johnny Hates Jazz would take the world by storm with their like-minded “Shattered Dreams” and ask us to “turn back the clock” – to what time? One asks now. In hindsight, it’s impossible not to think that XXX was part of this world, one of privilege. Yet, in our world, where we’re being asked (once again) which privileged person to listen to, or to redefine, my heart and head – I believe – belong to those who, at least, for a moment – no matter how brief – were able to express what exactly affected them, in a universal art form we can all better understand and share in.