Welcome to “Remember This Banger?” — a series in which we’ll periodically revisit some of Latin music’s most enduring and beloved songs.
Thalía’s ‘90s hit “Gracias a Dios” is a Juan Gabriel-penned, ska-infused— exploration of a pop icon’s dance with saintliness and sin.
Decked out in a shiny patent leather corset and blunt Velma Kelly-esque bob, Thalía in full dom mode sensuously saunters onto the screen in a dripping wet industrial warehouse set to the brassy, light ska beat of the 1996 single “Gracias a Dios.”
She straddles a blindfolded man tied to a chair, then shaves his face with a straight-edge razor, which the singer then wields to rip his shirt off, exposing his chiseled pecs. Mistress Thalía lays her cheek on her man’s chest as the soft warble of her voice expresses utter devotion. Suddenly, she sprays him with a fire hose — laws of physics don’t apply in the Thalía sex dungeon.
The Mexican star has just released an album of new songs.
(Agencia Reforma )
“Gracias a Dios” marks the fifth single from the Mexican pop icon’s fourth album, 1995’s ”En Éxtasis.” The banger, written by El Divo de Juárez, followed some of Thalía’s biggest hits, including “Piel Morena,” “Maria la del Barrio” and “Sangre,” spending five weeks on Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs chart, peaking at No. 26 and hitting No. 8 on the Latin Pop Airplay chart. It was a massive hit in Latin America, garnering radio play on stations catering to the señora market.
I spent countless Sundays cleaning with the scent of Suavitel wafting through our house and the song reverberating from my mom’s stereo, always set to her favorite station, Tijuana’s Radio Latina [104.5 FM]. For me, a ska-loving punk teen who’d blast Madness, the Specials and, of course, Sublime in the bedroom, “Gracias a Dios” hit the Venn diagram of pop culture that molded me. Worlds collided, and it ruled.
Thalía was far from a newbie on the scene when the song became a hit, having been forged from infancy into Mexico’s entertainment industry under the country’s intense star system with the backing of a powerful family before being crowned the Queen of Latin Pop.
The 53-year-old multi-hyphenate was born Ariadna Thalía Sodi Miranda in Mexico City, the youngest of five daughters born to criminologist and scientist Ernesto Sodi Pallares, who died when she was 6 years old, and Yolanda Miranda Mange, a single mom who became a public relations executive. Through her father, Thalía was born into one of Mexico’s most prominent and wealthy families — the Sodi family — who originally immigrated from Florence, Italy, to Oaxaca in the 19th century and soon after became entrenched in politics, occupying positions in government under the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz.
Over generations, Sodi family members remained active in politics, journalism, law and academia. In the ‘70s they began to build a dynasty in entertainment once Laura Zapata, sister to Thalía from Miranda Mange’s first marriage, began acting, starring in the 1974 telenovela “Mundo de Juguete,” paving the way for her sister to join the industry and later their niece, Camila Sodi. Thalía got the full child star boot camp treatment, first appearing on screen in a soft drink commercial as a 1-year-old, training and performing tirelessly in dance, singing and acting. She joined the kids pop group Din-Din at age 9.
By the time “Gracias a Dios” hit radios across Latin America, she was already a global superstar, having performed in the pop group Timbiriche alongside future Latin superstars Paulina Rubio, Erik Rubín and Benny Ibarra. Her rise included three successful solo albums, and starring in telenovelas, including “Quinceañera,” “Luz y Sombra” and her career-defining trilogía de Marías — “María Mercedes,” “Marimar” and “María la del Barrio” — all by 23.
In the following decades, Thalía’s life saw dramatic telenovela turns, including the kidnapping of two sisters and a years-long relationship with her manager, who was also the son of a former president of Mexico, that began at 17 — he was 38. Then there was the tale of having ribs removed for aesthetic purposes, but the singer appeared to dispel those rumors with an Instagram post in 2014. Six years later, she married music executive Tommy Mottola in a lavish December New York wedding — her very own happy ending.
While “Gracias a Dios” was originally written by Gabriel and performed as a ballad for her 1989 telenovela “Luz y Sombra,” it was re-produced and remixed for “En Éxtasis.” The new version emerged as a bouncy, ska-tinged pop beat complete with background singers harmonzing “wah-yo wah-yo wah-ya,” calling for some light skanking. The song feels like the spiritual Latin sister to Paris Hilton’s “Stars Are Blind” (another banger, in my correct opinion) or Gwen Stefani’s work both as a solo artist and with No Doubt.
The music video, directed by Benny Corral, repositions the narrative of the song itself. Through her trademark girlish squeals and breathy Marilyn-like lilting, Thalía, as the protagonist of her video, sings her gratitude to the love in her life — a love she’s been dreaming of and is so grateful to God for making sure they were born in the same century. The track was released during her time as the romantic lead in 1995’s “María la del Barrio” with co-star Fernando Colunga, adding fuel to the song’s fire.
But with the video, Corral and Thalía turn that emphatic appreciation of a God-sent love into an anthem for all-consuming obsession. Suddenly, it’s the kind of love that makes you want to, say, put on a F.A.B. wig and corset, kidnap a man to a wet warehouse and punish him sensuously. This is the line Thalía has toed throughout her career, blending the innocent with the sexy, establishing her brand of cheeky coquette.
She built a charismatic personality and angelic protagonists in telenovela roles, radiating sexy baby with a knowing wink. But through music and visuals, Thalía intentionally chipped at that image, taking the opportunity to not just re-cast herself as a woman exploring and embracing her sexual side, but more important, a woman making her own decisions. In a 2023 Billboard interview, she recalled: “When I went solo, I became 100% involved in my videos, in the mix, in the composition. Remember, I lived for many years under the telenovela regime: ‘Stand here, stand there.’ I was up to here with instructions.”
That “Gracias a Dios” invokes the lord himself, thanking him for what appears to be a sexual awakening into the world of dominance as seen in the video shows a penchant for provocation against a Catholic culture not too unlike another artist of her era — Madonna, whose style, controversial religious imagery and video for “Express Yourself” feel mirrored here down to the wet industrial setting.
It’s a well-trodden move by a young female artist longing to be taken seriously as an adult. Madonna laid the groundwork for many, embracing sex as an essential part of her artistry because it’s an essential part of her humanity, influencing women artists globally, including Thalía, to sex-up their image either as a revolutionary tool or marketing ploy in the sex-charged culture of the ‘90s. Thalía even adapted Madonna’s cone bra look by rocking metal bras welded to hold faucets, tiny guitars and other objects, highlighting her penchant for the mischievous.
“Gracias a Dios” wasn’t the icon’s first foray into the sexually explicit. The 1990 pop-rock single “Un Pacto Entre Los Dos” from her self-titled debut album garnered controversy for its sadomasochistic lyrics: “Muérdelo / lastímalo / castígalo / comparte su pasión.”
“From my first album, I was always like that: that voice of a woman who said very weird things that other women did not,” the entertainer told Forbes in 2020. “I talked sexuality, sexuality, sexuality, then my first album, and even my first single as a solo artist, was forbidden on radio. They say it was like ‘sadomasochism’ because I was always explicit, out there and sexual. And right now that’s what is in, but back then it was to express the feeling of all the young girls.”
She continued to make sex an integral part of her catalog with songs like her ode to being seduced mexicanly “Amor a la Mexicana” and the exotification jam “Piel Morena,” each leading to some uncomfortable interviews with male TV hosts. “Gracias a Dios,” unsurprisingly, also drew some heat from the conservative masses, but that didn’t stop it from being a hit and getting an English version. (It’s not nearly as good.)
In a 1996 interview with Cristina Saralegui, the talk-show host asked Thalía if perhaps she went too far with the video, to which the singer responded that she wanted to step into a look no one has ever seen from her, something “stronger” and more “aggressive,” especially after making the more wholesome “María” trilogies.
“They see me as sweet or the girl that suffers or the woman that cries, so I wanted to do something different,” she explained with a grin. “Change it up, and it worked, right? It had a very strong impact.”
But she also mentioned feeling like there’s two Thalías – the actress who embraces Cinderella-like roles, overcoming poverty and suffering to find a happy ending, and the singer who wants to push boundaries. Blurring those harsh margins had an impact on young girls like me who were taught to suppress themselves into a suffocating ideal of what it meant to be good. By delivering that message with confidence, a knowing sense of self, and some good old-fashioned flirting, Thalía built a life and career that is true to her, and gained global admiration while doing it.
Latin America has always struggled with nuance when it comes to women and celebrity, boxing them as Madonnas or whores, and being both tantalized and scandalized by women’s choices as they navigate those faulty, misogynistic lines. Thalía fought against that, showing that angels can be sexy, women can encompass it all and that not only is it okay, it can be celebrated. Hell, it can be fun! And with “Gracias a Dios,” we have an anthem that challenges that very dichotomy and opens the possibilities for women to live outside those bounds.
