Miguel Trillo spent nearly two decades documenting Spanish youth and, thank God, he didn’t get stuck in the Movida era. He’s always been where something happened, whether with the heavy metal guys of Vallecas, the graffiti artists of Getafe, hanging out in bars, festivals, supermarkets, and industrial areas across the country to hunt goths, rockabillies, mods, rappers, freaks… VICE Spain interviewed Miguel about this series of photographs taken between 1981 and 1994. Of course, a lot of these looks are looking pretty hot again.
I was doing a story for El País. They're a couple of members of a group called NPI that stands for No Fucking Idea. Really, they're more punk rockers than they are genuine heavy metal guys. The other members of the group have just been released on parole from prison sentences imposed for desertion.
I saw them on an industrial estate on the outskirts of Alcorcón - it had become a bit of a place for drinking. They had just gotten off a commuter train from the capital and the photo was taken outside the station. They told me they were going to a disco-bar where a DJ friend of theirs plays a good rap set.
I rarely go north of Madrid. When I go to the suburbs, I go south, perhaps because there are more people living there. It was strange running into skaters in a public park since there were so few around then. It was also unusual to find skateboarders with tattoos, as there were hardly any tattoo artists in Madrid. West, the guy in the portrait, said he was tattooed by an American on a US base, where he'd just finished his military service.
She’s my friend. Her name is Celina Alvarado and possibly the person I've taken most pictures of. She's a filmmaker and that day she was location scouting in Legazpi, around some old brick factories. She reminds me of Suzi Quatro here.
His friends call him The Dead One and he's a member of a hip-hop group called PZB. He's leaning against a lot of tags on a high school wall. To his right reads 'For KGR', a tribute to Kike, a graffiti artist from Parla that was killed a couple of years ago in a car accident while racing a stolen car.
These are a couple of members of The Growl. I'd read about them in a local newspaper and found them by chance.
This city was one of the six chosen for a series for El País on young people's lives, in the small provincial capitals of Spain. We met at the pub Abbacanto, a design bar. They were models and wore clothes designed by Encarna Valiente, the town's ritziest fashion boutique owner.
Most of the guys at this festival were rockers and this indie couple stood out. It's one of the few photos of mine with people appearing behind the portraits, but those sunbeams invading the frame deserved to stay. They said that they came from Madrid and they would start a band or already had started one. I couldn't hear because the sound coming from the stage was too loud.
This girl, Rosa, really ruled the city. She was also the most charming girl in Huelva too. The trouble is, I didn't keep her phone number and haven't seen her again. I would love to hear from her. That afternoon we met in the Barrio Obrero—the Workers Quarter—which had just been restored, it was a festival of pop colors, as was she.
It was early morning at a gay club called Muelle. It’s on the outskirts of the city in an industrial area. That night there were more people inside the cars parked outside than in the club. You fished on the dancefloor and then got busy after.
The city of Carabanchel had organized a graffiti marathon to paint the wall around their racetrack and these guys were taking part.
I met them walking down the street from a place called Pasión. It was early and I could photograph them for ages and they began kissing, his lips are covered in her lipstick.
I was in El Rastro and saw him looking at t-shirts, that were almost identical to his own. The attitude in his eyes made the picture.