Alaska y Dinarama

Although not autarkic and therefore not entirely closed off from cultural or even just commercial openness with the rest of the West, Francisco Franco's dictatorship was marked by a rigid Catholic-rooted conservatism. Only after the death of the Generalísimo did a slow process of liberalization of customs begin, which eventually culminated in the countercultural apotheosis centered in the capital, known as the Movida Madrileña (often shortened simply to Movida). Some of the most important and beloved artists in Spanish music emerged from this movement, such as Antonio Vega's Nacha Pop, Radio Futura, and Gabinete Caligari, as well as filmmakers such as the celebrated Pedro Almodóvar. The date usually considered the symbolic starting point of the Movida is February 9, 1980: on that occasion a tribute was held for José Enrique Caio Real, a drummer who died at just twenty years old in a car accident and a member of the underground band Tos. The bands taking part were all young and up-and-coming, and among them were Alaska y Los Pegamoides, the name under which the protagonists of this piece took their first steps.

The band's two main figures were the singer of Spanish-Mexican origin Alaska, stage name of Olvido Gara Jova, and Madrid-born guitarist/singer Carlos Berlanga. It was precisely following the latter's departure that Los Pegamoides broke up in 1982, amid controversy and disputes with their record label. Berlanga then founded Dinarama with bassist Ignacio “Nacho” Canut, initially without Alaska, who would however soon join to complete the lineup that would shortly afterwards bring them to widespread fame: Alaska y Dinarama.

Although both the singer and the guitarist were gay, only the former has risen over the years to become a cult figure in the Spanish entertainment world, thanks to her charisma and artistic versatility, which also allowed her to try her hand at acting. Without wishing to diminish Alaska's cultural importance, her fame and centrality as frontwoman - evident from the very names of the bands she was part of - risk overshadowing Berlanga and doing a grave disservice not only to him but also to a proper understanding of the artistic weight of each member of the group. Berlanga was in fact the mastermind behind Alaska y Dinarama and, together with Nacho Canut, its author, as well as a singer often ready to step in alongside Alaska or with solo performances. He too was a standard-bearer in the fight for gay emancipation and integration and for breaking down gender stereotypes.

Eager to leave behind the stripped-down post-punk sound of Pegamoides and their first album, released in 1983, Alaska y Dinarama sought out an English-speaking producer to give themselves an international scope. Their choice fell on the young English up-and-comer Nick Patrick, after ruling out, among others, Stock, Aitken and Waterman, producers of Dead or Alive's “You Spin Me Round”, because their fee was too high. Nevertheless, Berlanga and his bandmates' initial preference is telling about the intentions behind this new direction.

Released in September 1984, “Deseo carnal” veers decisively towards dance-pop and hi-NRG territory, adding shades of baroque pop and gothic rock, all under the umbrella of a solid new wave framework. “Cómo pudiste hacerme esto a mí” opens the album and is already a small manifesto: sumptuous orchestral arrangements of strings and horns provide the backdrop for the album's first vocal entrance, courtesy of Berlanga. The union of music and lyrics evokes a cinematic scene, straight out of a film noir:

She saw him come out of there

Now she knew the truth

And she made up her mind

Mad with jealousy she followed him

After noting down the address

Holding back the tears

At this point a drum machine with a hi-nrg flavor and synthesizer sequences make their entrance, transporting the initial orchestra into a nightclub. Adding to an already intricate picture are scattered strums of distorted electric guitar, almost hard rock in feel. The pre-chorus and the chorus reach their apotheosis somewhere between European club culture and Spanish music: swirls of trumpet and strings lead into a bullring arena, while the tight four-on-the-floor beat, synthesizers and electronic percussion inspire the listener to imagine endless club remixes. Such a bold syncretism between baroque pop and house finds one of its very few equals at this level in "Left To My Own Devices" by Pet Shop Boys: yet "Como pudiste…" beats it by four years.

The rest of the lyrics paint the story of a woman who, driven mad by jealousy, loses her mind and runs over her lover, presumably guilty of betraying her, in a macabre reversal of traditional gender roles, which would instead expect the man to brutally take revenge on the unfaithful woman:

How could you do this to me?

I would have loved you to the end

I know you'll regret it

The deserted street, the perfect night

A car with no lights, she couldn't dodge it

One sure hit and it was all over between them in an instant

I have no regrets

I'd do it again, it's jealousy

I'm not sorry

I'd do it again, it's jealousy

Particularly intense is the dialogue between the two singers: Berlanga's delivery is more neutral and "cold," narrating events in the third person, while Alaska's style is more theatrical yet never overplayed, voicing the protagonist's torment in the first person.

"Isis" continues the blend established by the opening track, this time leaning more heavily into the electronic component and adding more than a hint of synth-funk (particularly evident in the palm-muted electric guitars and the slap bass of the chorus).

The marriage of strings, horns, glam electric guitars and the music hall march rhythm of "Ni tú ni nadie" is about as British as anything ever conceived in Spain: with a certain license granted by the reader to whoever is writing this, it almost sounds like a song inspired by Britpop, released a decade early! The track is the band's most famous hit; the lyrics capture the tension between two people clearly going through a romantic crisis, perhaps an irreparable one, counterbalanced by the narrating voice's strong desire for independence. Neither this voice nor its counterpart is given a defined gender: an ambiguity that is likely no accident.

You're wrong to raise my tension

To destroy my ambition, keep it up and you'll see.

I look at the clock, it's much later than yesterday

I would wait for you again and I won't, I won't

Where is our unresolvable mistake?

Is it your fault or mine?

Neither you, nor anyone, no one can change me

A thousand bells are ringing in my heart

How hard it is to ask for forgiveness!

Neither you, nor anyone, no one can change me

Get out of here, you never knew how to understand me

I only want what's good for you, there's no need to lie

How easy it is to torment yourself afterwards

But I will survive, I know I can, I will survive

“Solo por hoy” brushes against gothic textures, with Berlanga's voice once again at the forefront: the chorus, however, is cut through by sequencer rhythms and percussion that gallop along like a robotic charge, in keeping with the album's dance mood.

“Falsas Costumbres” is a slow-burning, atmospheric duet sung by Alaska and Berlanga: among its many refined touches, what stands out most is the sheer variety of the arrangement. Throughout the track we hear strings, cleverly saturated electric guitars, arena-sized gated-reverb drums, psychedelic organ. Particularly thrilling is the crescendo that begins at 0:43, as the choir enters to underline the vocal melody, before building further with the horn and electric guitar flourishes of the pre-chorus. The emotional tension reaches its climax in the semitone shift from F-sharp minor to F major, finding resolution back in E major on the elegiac chorus.

Synth-funk returns on “Un hombre de verdad”, a dance-pop number as sophisticated as it is infectious, the perfect anthem for a night out at an LGBT-themed club. Here, more than anywhere else, Alaska's vocal talent truly shines. Blessed with a deep, genuinely contralto voice, the singer manages to bring real power to her lowest notes, rivalling male ranges, even going so far as to emulate their falsetto, using the kind of register shifts heard in the verses.

The lyrics, however, are less a celebration of homosexuality than a feminist ode to self-determination, standing in contrast to the stereotypical image of women as merely passive, possibly sweet, objects of male desire. The song's protagonist describes herself as a “stern sovereign”, consumed by desire that no man can satisfy: as the title suggests, she is desperately searching for a “real man”, but no one seems to live up to her expectations.

Without hesitation, I'm going to search

I want to find, yes

A real man

I'll crawl, I'll beg, yes

A real man

I don't know what to do to find him

Where to look, I don't know what to ask

Sometimes I think he doesn't exist

Where he might be, I don't know if I should carry on

Something truly masculine

I want something special and there isn't any

I placed ads in the papers

It just wasn't meant to be, it didn't work, nobody called

Despite its running time of barely thirty-six minutes, the tracklist shows tremendous eclecticism, with each song exploring different sonic shades: "La Decisión" is a fast-paced new romantic track with muscular low guitars and synths, the title track mixes electronics, bassoons, tango and Mediterranean flavors in a whirlwind that almost seems to want to be the Spanish answer to Matia Bazar of that era, while "Víctima de un error" is a sunshine pop tune transplanted into the age of disco music, complete with an elaborately grooving electric bass. The dark chamber-pop of "Carne, huesos y tú" closes the album on a mood more decadent than ever, an exhilarating terrain for Alaska's voice, so deep and natural that it comes across as both spectral and unsettling, capable of captivating the listener with its androgynous charisma.

"Deseo carnal" was an absolute smash hit in Spain (sixteen weeks at number 1) and did well in Latin America too, partly thanks to its iconoclastic cover, a photographic depiction of Lgbt pride created by Luis Gatti, the celebrated Argentine illustrator and graphic designer who worked with Almodóvar (among his rock-related works is the cover of "El Jardín de los presentes" by Invisible).

Thanks to the album, Alaska rises to the status of a national star, while Berlanga, often working in tandem with Canut, continues a prolific career as a songwriter, both solo and for others, until 2002, when he dies prematurely at just 42 due to hepatitis.

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26/01/2025