Spandex is Joaquín Rodríguez's first novel, though not his first book. You may recognise the name because he has spent decades behind the bass and some of Spanish pop's most mischievous lyrics. He played bass and wrote songs for Los Nikis in the 1980s, later joined Los Acúsicas and now plays with Los Nikis de La Pradera. In other words, he knows the dust of the dressing room and the hangover of success first-hand.
The novel puts us in the boots of Spandex, an eighties hair metal band led by Luigi, a frontman as peculiar as he is doomed to glorious disaster. The story goes through the classic arc of so many bands, explosion, excesses, half-full stadiums, and the slow landing in playing for the love of art, memories and torreznos. Because yes, fame is like that, it arrives at full speed and is gone before you learn the words to the second album.
If you have ever sung El Imperio Contraataca or Enrique el ultrasur at full volume, you already know the territory. This is no suffocating drama. It is a bad-tempered comedy with enormous affection for its world. Rodríguez writes with the same absurd irony as in his songs, producing ridiculous situations, sharp dialogue and a band more attached to the bar than to the charts.
Best of all, I finished the book with proof that I had not imagined something. For years I had asked on forums and Los Nikis fan pages about one particular concert. Emilio, the singer, was jumping up and down in his usual spot. He was carrying a few extra kilos, if you know what I mean. Then, in the middle of a jump—wham—the stage gave way. He vanished into a hole and kept singing with only his head above the boards. It was not my invention. The story is here. And, for the record, it did not happen in Puertollano.