{"id":3588624,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3588624/?format=json","airdate":"2025-12-08T20:24:28-08:00","show":65326,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65326/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Seiseiseis","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Tórax y las extremidades","artist_ids":[],"album":null,"release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":null,"rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Seiseiseis” is twitchy and claustrophobic, a track that seems to circle around itself like a nervous thought. A repeating guitar or synth figure sits at the center, built on a pattern that subtly references the number in the title while never turning into a simple gimmick. Drums and bass work together to create an uneasy forward motion—steady enough to nod your head to, but always leaving a little rhythmic friction that keeps you alert. Vocals are delivered with a sense of urgency, sometimes almost swallowed by the surrounding noise, as if the singer is pushing against the limitations of the mix. Because public information on Tórax y las extremidades is scarce, the music has to do most of the talking, and it does: “Seiseiseis” feels like a document of anxiety, obsession, and grim humor, wrapped in a lo-fi post-punk shell.\nListen: https://bandcamp.com/search?q=T%C3%B3rax%20y%20las%20extremidades%20Seiseiseis","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}