Music

Whatever your opinion of the decline and fall of Britney Spears – if, indeed, you can be bothered to hold one – there’s no denying the nastiness at work in its almost daily documentation. Whether as a result of plain, there-but-by-the-grace-of-God pity or vicious misogyny masked as vicarious concern, Spears’ dignity (yes, even global superstars may have it) has long since been done in by the relentless and unforgiving scrutiny of the public. Just last week – following her court order to attend parenting classes as part of her child custody battle – we were presented with ‘hilarious’ pap shots of Spears and pals struggling to fold up a baby buggy. (Look! How could she take care of her kids? The track-suited, tequila-slugging trollop can’t even figure out how a stroller works!) Now she’s been dropped by her agent and her lawyer, both of whom she must, like, totally need right now.
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The circle of blame in the Spears drama is more Escher-like maze, but the music industry itself must shoulder a huge share of responsibility. Granted, starting off as a Mouseketeer aged 11 and being catapulted to international success just seven years later – via a distinctly dodgy video for your debut single – probably doesn’t set you up for taking personal control and making smart career choices, but such things are possible. Just ask Enrique Iglesias.

The son of perma-tanned, leathery international popster (and legendary Lothario) Julio, 31-year-old Enrique is almost as well-known for his forthrightness as for his schmoove balladry and perky, if unremarkable, chart pop, which has helped him sell a phenomenal 40 million albums in ten years. His latest (eighth) effort, ‘Insomniac’ has already gone gold. It’s sales figures like these – not to mention ads for Pepsi and Tommy Hilfiger – that have made Enrique a member of pop’s premier league, but he denies ever feeling like simply a cog in the vast and impersonal music industry machine. He also speaks with such conviction that we’re obliged to believe him.

‘There hasn’t been one moment in my career where I felt I didn’t have any control over the creative aspects of my records,’ he declares. ‘Not one. I promised myself when I signed my first contract [with Mexican label, Fonovisa]; I said to the president of the label that I’d work as hard as I could – I’d kill myself working – but he’d have to let me sing whatever I wanted . Don’t ever shove a song down my throat, you know? The way I look at it, I’d rather make my own mistakes than have people make them for me.’

Presumably, no one has yet had to try and control you, because what you’re doing makes your record company an incredible amount of money, but what if Enrique Iglesias’s stock started to fall?

‘Are you kidding me?’ he says. ‘The only thing I have no control over is the politics that goes on within the record company. It’s always been the same, but it’s far tougher now, because record companies are run by financial people; before, they were run by creative people. Look at the career of someone like Bruce Springsteen, who broke on his third or fourth album. Nowadays, if you don’t break on your first single, you’re fucked!

He adds: ‘“Insomniac” took me through the highest levels of anxiety that I’ve ever felt because I felt like I had a lot riding on it. The anxiety came because I took much longer [three years] over this album than I normally do and so had a lot of time to think, which can drive you nuts. So, I was thinking: Three years and it’s all going to hinge on one single. If that doesn’t work, you don’t move on to the second single, not even if you’ve sold 40m albums. It doesn’t matter how “legendary” you are.’

In many ways, then, you could just as well be selling trainers or tinned peas. Just as long as you’re shifting units, you’re safe. How does that make you feel?

‘It makes me feel like shit,’ he says. ‘Really! Whenever I go into the record company – even though I’ve made loads of friends there and I love them all – it’s still a business. Unfortunately, you truly feel that pressure.’

Is the inevitable commodification of an artist at your level hard to deal with?

‘I don’t mind being a brand and the reason it doesn’t affect me is that I’m able to separate Enrique Iglesias the brand from Enrique Iglesias. What I do mind is feeling like a piece of meat. The one thing I’ve learned in the last ten years is that successful artists don’t get paid to write and sing songs, they get paid for the psychological roller coaster they’re going to have to ride. That’s the hard work.’

Enrique followed his father into the music business and, like him, dropped out of university to do so. Did Julio pass on his rule book to his son?

‘I didn’t need a rule book,’ Enrique says. ‘As a kid, you almost develop a sixth sense for being able to tell who are the real people and who are the fakes. I remember going to one of my father’s concerts and there was always an entourage, of course. While my father was singing, I’d wander around outside and see people who weren’t paying any attention. Then, after the concert, they’d all go backstage like, “That was the best concert I’ve ever seen you play.” I’d think: You didn’t even see one minute of it! I was always very familiar with the hypocrites. Everything changes with fame, obviously, but the most important thing is surrounding yourself with good people who truly care about you. It’s easier said than done.’

Pop is a young man’s game and you’re only 31, so have you decided how long you’ll give it?

‘My plans are to retire in nine years’ time, when I’m 40,’ says Enrique, decisively. ‘I’ll buy a boat and fish all day. Surfing, fishing, lying on the beach, scratching my… in Mexico!’

For a galaxy-conquering pop star working in an industry that’s in a state of flux, you sound remarkably relaxed. Or are you constantly watching your back?

‘I’m relaxed,’ Enrique laughs, ‘but I’m still wary.’

Enrique Iglesias’s single, ‘Tired Of Being Sorry’ is out now on Polydor.