Miqui Puig: "The roller coaster ride goes very fast and the blows are very brutal."

BarcelonaMiqui Puig (l'Ametlla del Vallès, 1968) was the leader of Los Sencillos, a band that was successful in the 90s, especially with It's beautiful, a song that is still danced to this day. But what happens when this is over, you keep making songs and the bulk of your audience has evaporated? Miqui Puig, DJ and producer of Whip track, a daily program on the radio station iCat, has written a profound book about fame, music, love, and a whole catalog of fears and addictions that have accompanied him. It is titled—I would say misleadingly— I didn't want to be Miqui Puig.

How would you explain who Miqui Puig was to the newcomers to the music world?

— Miqui Puig was a singer who had a great global success, called It's beautiful, because we even won an MTV award with a video, and coming from a very small town, like l'Ametlla del Vallès, he achieved a dream: to sing songs and have them recorded. At that time it was like this; some men would sign you, record your songs, and then promote them. It's interesting that the editor of this book came to Miqui Puig through Whip track [his daily show on iCat] and from there he kind of backtracks. I think I'm lucky in this regard, because there are many Miqui Puigs who have been moving around over the decades. I'm still that guy who wants to make songs and sing.

In the book, you say that show business is a roller coaster. Where do you find yourself on this roller coaster lately?

— I'm on a hill watching people go by. I've made it this far, here, I know who I am, who I want to be, and where I want to go. Doing things I want to do, especially because osteoarthritis is brutal; our physical condition isn't on our side anymore, and it's a pain, because when you're older and your mind is more square than ever, that's when all this shit starts to appear.

What do you see from the hill where you are?

— I see the roller coaster going very fast, and the punches from the people who fly off are really brutal. You go up and down very quickly. We're also in a time when media people have a habit of not missing trains, and they're buying things that make no sense or consistency. If you talk about that artist, I'll do it too, because if he's a hit, I don't want to be the one who didn't speak well of him.

In the book, you describe Los Sencillos' last concert, in Lleida, in 2002. What memories do you have?

— I remember very clearly wearing a shirt that was too big to fit in. I remember looking over and seeing four heads, because there were 40 people. And I remember getting into the van listening to a Flaming Lips record that I've never listened to again.

But did you do that concert knowing it would be the last?

— Yes, I'd already decided, and it's the hardest thing that can happen to you. The last concert, on a Thursday, I think it was in October, in Lleida, when no one wants to see you anymore, with 40 people, with all the experience you have, with all the good songs you've made, and thinking: "What am I doing here?"

You're referring to another concert at the Pozoblanco bullring, where Paquirri died, which also seems to be the last, and it was in 1996.

— He was the last of the two founding members of Los Sencillos; Germán and Marià say they're leaving, and that's the end of the first phase. I went to ask to see the infirmary where Paquirri was treated, and I thought I still saw blood. Who knows.

If I ask you about the last day you were famous, what image comes to mind?

— Famous? When we were doing X Factor on Cuatro and the civil guards asked me for photos in Pont Aeri.

And as a pop star?

— It is that the word famous... I'm famous. If I were famous, I wouldn't be renting or carrying boxes to move house. Being famous is cool; people know you from seeing you on TV, from singing, from DJing, but famous is an attitude. I meet people who say to me: "So, when's this going to take off?" I mean, first you have to write songs, then you have to go play... It's true that Los Sencillos had some really wild moments. There's that concert against AIDS at the Palau Sant Jordi, where I was so scared I fell. It was a real blow in front of 20,000 people and broadcast live on the program. SputnikThis is a moment of fame.

The book is titled I didn't want to be Miqui PuigReading it, I got the feeling that it could be titled I didn't want to stop being Miqui Puig.

— Ufff, you see? What I don't like is the famous Miqui Puig, the brand, that I'm sure they've seen you in a dark room...The urban legend. The reputation that I'm a rude and harsh guy. It's true; if I'm DJing and you come to me asking The bicycle Maybe I will be. I also don't want to be the fear-filled Miqui Puig, who is a guy who has hurt me a lot, who has prevented me from doing more things.

Reading the book also gave me the feeling that you have a certain addiction to the figure of the loser. I asked you for an image of fame, and you told me the day you fell. As if they'd love you more if you said "a pop star in a slump" than if you said "a pop star."

— Yes, yes. But I tell you what I am. A guy with fears, obsessions, and who always looks the other way. I'm playing in front of 60,000 people at the Sot del Migdia and all I was looking at was a girl I liked. The loser persona is shit. The day Pep Oliveras, my best friend, told me that Coincidences It'll be a cult album in a few years, I didn't want it to be. I wanted it to be a hit. And these days, while we're preparing a show, my partner says to me: "Is this song by Los Sencillos or Miqui Puig? By Miqui Puig? It's great." Yeah! I don't like to use the word. frustration, but if anger: I've had some very good material; this could be beautiful.

Do you think you should have had more success with the songs you've made?

— I always try to avoid the word success But being able to work on that... Yes, I think we could have worked a lot harder. I'm not an easy guy either. I'm so demanding of myself that it spreads to others and I end up carrying the load. The other day in Valencia they were talking about me and one said: "Miqui is one of the smartest guys in the business." And the other replied: "No, he's the smartest." I'm intelligent, but I'm not clever, because if I had been clever I would have overlooked all these shortcomings; perhaps I would have handled fame differently. When a civil guard asks you for an autograph, that's when I say "I don't know if I'm ready for this." And you're not ready to go on the Hello or in the Readings.

What is the last insult that hurt you?

— Especially when people on social media call you a failure. A failure in what respect? Not filling the Palau Sant Jordi? Or am I a failure who has recorded 15 albums and still works in music? If I've failed at anything, perhaps it's by not being more flexible, in a metaphor I invented: the hedgehog, or, as my wife says, the hedgehog. Calimerism. I'm coming down from the office, wearing my sweatshirt. I'm not feeling well today... But then you have the thing about being the son of a farmer and paying self-employment.

I thought the stage protected you, but reading the book you realize that you can be insulted just the same while you're singing or while you're spinning records, while you're a DJ.

— It's very fragile. The last time it happened to me, during a session, a guy came up to me with a very bad temper and said, "If you don't finish, I'll cut off your light." "Wait a minute, there are ten minutes left," you keep saying, and he says, "With what you get paid..." Ah, man. And this always gets the better of me. It comes with the package; some people handle it well and others don't. I guess I'm one of those people.

"Fat, faggot"...

— That's good, huh? He only got one right. Why do we have to keep insulting, Albert? I think there's a kind of hysteria going on, and it's so easy to insult like that.

And because at the height of your career with Los Sencillos there were no social media... Insults had to be face to face.

— Lucky me. Or that anecdote I tell about a guy who, standing a meter away, yells at me: "Back off! Back off!" He's very strong. And if you're fragile, he'll destroy your entire night.

Lately, what is your relationship with your body?

— Brutal. I have arthritis of I don't know how high a grade, and I have shirts that fit me perfectly. Now that summer is here, it's all juices, gazpacho, and salads, but that's how it is. I'm exactly like my father, and you are what you are. When you're so... fashion victim Like me, the problem is not being able to access sizes. Now, it's normalized that there are larger bodies.

We've updated the catalog of addictions and fears that appear in the book. You talk about addictions to misfortune, alcohol, drugs, shoes...

— Shut up, shut up, I still have more shoes than my wife. I'm probably seventy, but you'll end up wearing ten.

I wanted to ask you what the latest addiction you added to the catalog is and the latest one you removed.

— The latest addiction is watching true crimes in a sickening way. I'll pick up a four-chapter one and won't go to sleep until I've finished it.

And in the "Puig Fears," as you say, what is your main fear lately?

— Losing my mother, which is all I have left. Losing Jordi was hard because you lose a father, and now I just want to preserve my mother above all else. It's one of the things I know will be the next big blow. And I'm also trying not to be so work-obsessed, to be more accommodating.

Many people appear in the book, but there is one, your wife, who seems to change everything for you.

— Yes, having a wife who's outside this business has made me see it differently. Someone comes along who tells you this is good or this is crap. Someone who doesn't flatter you, who makes you rethink things, and who, if it's good, tells you so too. Everything happens. Chance always surprises us.

You love to read and write, but this is your first book. Will it be your last, or will there be more?

— I don't know. I don't know where I should go. This has been very easy, because it's a book that was almost already written.

When you say "I don't know where I have to go," do you mean in life?

— No, when it comes to writing. In life, I'm very clear: I have several years of paying freelance fees left, and I'll continue working, making music. We're producing soundtracks, music for commercials, songs for others, and I still really want to sing. I've opened a folder that includes boleros, but I don't know where it'll go. Right now, we're in the studio preparing two concerts to celebrate the book, one in Barcelona and one in Madrid. Only two dates, because as seniors, we don't have the time. slotsWe self-produced a show with the entire repertoire of songs from Los Sencillos to Miqui Puig who recorded an album two years ago.

The penultimate question I always ask is very easy for you: what song are you listening to lately?

— I'm obsessed with one artist: Kali Uchis. She's an American artist with South American roots who makes psychedelic boleros, gorgeous, and empowered.

I wanted to make it harder for you: the last song you'd like to hear before you die.

— This is really outrageous. Look, it's Cecilio G, that Barcelona rapper, a very marginal, drug-addicted man who, at a time when things were going really well for him, says: "And now that I'm fine, over 23, I don't know why I feel like crying."

The last words are yours, finish as you wish.

— Well, in the end it was Miqui Puig.