How to listen to the GAYFOLK trilogy from start to finish

I'm going to ask you for something very old-fashioned: listen to three albums back to back, in the order I made them, without skipping a thing. I know almost nobody listens like that any more. Most days, neither do I. But the GAYFOLK trilogy is built as one story in three acts, and if you put it on shuffle the plot falls apart, like a novel whose pages have come loose.

The three albums are, in this order, «Descubierto un nuevo planeta llamado GAYFOLK» (A new planet called GAYFOLK has been discovered), «Ojalá se pudiera viajar a GAYFOLK» (If only you could travel to GAYFOLK) and «El día de la liberación» (Liberation Day). The titles give a lot away. First, someone finds a place where they can be who they are. Then they're desperate to get there. And in the end, the day arrives. That's the whole plot. There's nothing more to it, and that's enough for me, because it's the plot of a lot of people I know.

Before you press play

Find yourself a long stretch of time. I won't give you exact minutes, because I'd rather you didn't time it, but this isn't something you get through on one Tube ride. It's an afternoon. Or one of those nights that never quite manages to end.

I picture it mostly in two ways. One is alone, headphones on, lying down, phone face down so you can't see the notifications. The other, my favourite, is with friends before going out, in that stretch when someone's ironing a shirt and someone else can't find their keys and nobody's fully paying attention, but everybody's listening.

What I don't recommend is putting it on while you work. I've tried. You end up answering emails through the whole second album and you don't take in a thing.

Act one: finding the planet

«Descubierto un nuevo planeta llamado GAYFOLK» is about finding. Not searching, mind you. Finding by accident, like when you walk into a bar by mistake and it turns out to be your place. The planet is my way of saying: somewhere nobody asks you to keep your voice down, to hide the camp in your walk, or to explain who you live with.

The tone of this first album is wonder. There's humour, because I can't write without humour, but it's the humour of someone who's just seen something and still can't quite believe it. If you catch yourself smiling, you're on the right track. If you catch yourself a little sad, you're on the right track too, because finding a place like that always drags in the awkward question of why it took you so long.

One practical tip for this act: don't leave it on in the background. Pay attention at the start, because that's where everything else gets set up.

Act two: aching to get there

«Ojalá se pudiera viajar a GAYFOLK» is the album of desire and waiting. You know the planet exists now. You want to be there and you can't, or not yet. That distance is the heart of the record.

I'll confess it's the one I find hardest to listen to, and I can't quite explain why. Maybe because unfulfilled desire is a state I know far too well, and running into it in my own lyrics makes me a little shy. Copla weighs more heavily here. That way of turning a complaint into music, which comes from long before any of us, turns up everywhere, and there are moments when the humour cracks and lets you see what it was covering.

Be patient with this act. I suspect it's where most people give up, because the middle of any story is the hardest part to hold together. But without it the third one makes no sense. If you get to the liberation without going through the longing, the party feels unearned.

Act three: Liberation Day

«El día de la liberación» is exactly what it sounds like. You arrive. I won't tell you how, because it's not a film with a twist ending either: the album is more the mood of that day. Relief and wanting to dance, above all. And a bit of tiredness too, which almost nobody mentions but is very real. Getting free is exhausting.

It's the most festive of the three and the one that works best with people around. If you're listening alone, turn it up. If you're with company, let someone ask to play a song again. That's the only exception I'll allow to the rule of order: once the story has been told, do whatever you like with it.

You don't need to know my singles to understand the trilogy. I've released 273 in about two years, and some people found me through «Tan Cateto» on TikTok while others haven't heard a single one. The albums stand on their own. You don't need to be gay either, although it helps you catch some of the winks. The planet is for whoever needs it.

I do recommend one thing for afterwards: read the lyrics. I write every one of them myself, and I produce the music with artificial intelligence tools that I direct, choosing and discarding until it sounds like what I had in my head. That's why I call myself the first AI songwriter. On the website every song has its own page with the full lyrics. Listening first and reading afterwards changes the experience. The other way round works worse; I've seen it with friends who read before they listen and then spend the whole album waiting for lines instead of hearing them.

The whole trilogy is a free download, no sign-up, at mikesaintlouis.com/descargas, and also from gayfolkplanet.com. No form, and nobody asking for your email. If you'd rather stream it on Spotify or another platform afterwards, wonderful, but I wanted there to be a way to keep it on your computer or your phone without depending on anyone.

Download it, drop it in a folder with a name you'll recognise and pick your afternoon. The planet isn't going anywhere in the meantime.

Everything else, songs, music videos and lyrics, is at mikesaintlouis.com.