Cruz de navajas

The first time “Cruz de navajas” played on the radio, no one expected what would come next. It wasn’t just another song from the album *Entre el cielo y el suelo*; it was an unexpected turn that ended up redefining Mecano’s direction. José María Cano wrote it without thinking about the impact it would have: a raw story about a relationship falling apart, where betrayal and violence intertwine with a rhythm that, years later, still resonates in every note. The funny thing is that, at first, neither Nacho nor Ana Torroja were particularly fond of it. In fact, they wanted to relegate it to the B-side of the record, far from the top spots. But sometimes, chance—or in this case, a radio show—decides for you.

The track was recorded at Audiofilm Studios with Jorge Pardo on saxophone and Pepe Ébano on percussion, two musicians who gave it that jazzy feel that sets it apart from the rest of the band’s repertoire. When José Antonio Abellán heard it on his show *El Gran Musical*, he knew it had something special: he promoted it without the record label’s permission, and the audience responded instantly. Sales of “Entre el cielo y el suelo” skyrocketed, forcing the label to release it as an official single in the summer of 1986. By then, it was too late to ignore it. The song, which tells the story of a love triangle that ends in tragedy—with the three crosses as a symbol of pain—ranked third on VH1’s list of the 100 Greatest Spanish-Language Songs of the ’80s. It was even adapted into Italian in 1989 under the title “Croce di lame,” included on the album *Figlio della Luna*. Its style, a blend of pop ballad and rhythmic bolero, demonstrated that Mecano could experiment with genres without losing its essence—a point made clear by a minimalist album cover featuring Ana Torroja in leather, leaning at an angle that seems to defy gravity.