Despite the lingering stereotypes of passionate women 'a la Carmen’, from Bizet’s opera, Spanish women sung about women, fashioning up and down their image in the last half century.
The Francoist regime, propped by the most conservative section of the Catholic church, made use of the movies to reinforce the image of a passionate, passive and ever forgiving woman. In 1953, Lola Flores in ‘Pena, penita’ embodies the prototype of a Roma woman, tanned and long curly jet black hair, who blames herself for the crimes of her lover and will forever wait for him until he gets out of jail. This is the same kind of woman who was taught to sew and to cook in the Women’s Section of the fascist schools. Still in 1961, Conchita Bautista represented Spain in the Eurovision contest with a flamenco outfit longing for her lover because she was only happy ‘estando contigo’ (being with you).
Only four years later, on the opposite side of the spectrum, Concha Velasco wanted to be a ‘Chica Ye-Ye’ (Ye-ye Girl) with a messy hair and colourful tights. The modern outlook of the Beatles bypassed the censorship and a lot of cool bands started to sing in rudimentary English. Most of these bands were made up of men, but great many feminine exceptions populated the radio of the late dictatorship. Mari Trini did not want to be a quiet and agreeable girl in ‘Yo no soy esa’ (I’m Not That One). Salomé in ‘Vivo cantando’ (I Live Singing) and Paloma San Basilio in ‘La fiesta terminó’ (The Party Is Over) celebrated their break-ups and upcoming freedom. Even more, Cecilia — ‘Dama Dama’ (Lady, Lady) — expanded the murky frustration of women cloistered at home to ladies of high station, wives of their “Master”.
Yet, the same singers would always declare their unconditional love and their incompleteness without “him”. This trope would continue until today, along all cruel contradictions of La Transición, as the period of transition from Franco’s dictatorship to democracy is known in Spain. To start with, the genre of the protests song, those anthems of the democratic youth, were almost exclusively run by bearded men, with women providing the chorus.
In February 1982, Colonel Tejero launched a failed coup against the recently born democracy. Too late. Free speech was already rooted in the rebellious youth and during summer that year Las Vulpes jumped into stage singing 'Me gusta ser una zorra' (I Like Being a Whore) demolishing in four bars the good girl stereotype. How feeble does Jeanette’s ‘Soy Rebelde’ (I’m a rebel), from 1974, look in comparison!
By then, the whole the musical scenario had undergone a Kafkaesque shift and punk-rock would linger at the forefront for two more decades. In Madrid, Alaska was singing ‘¿A quién le importa?’ (Who’s concerned?), no less of a political statement: she didn’t care about what people thought of her. While as early as 1988, Mecano would produce one of the first pop gay anthem in Spain in ‘Mujer contra mujer’ (Woman Against Woman).
Today, the image of women in music is changing rapidly. The pay gap in the art industry is progressively being bridged and there is a zero tolerance against physical or emotional abuse. Women like La Mala Rodriguez in hip hop, Las Odio in punk-indie, or Chanel in trap are crushing the musical scene. But importantly, all musicians are called out for their misogynist lyrics and it seems that feminism starts to be accepted as a normalized frame for any cultural production.
By Julio Cirujano
