{"id":3591567,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591567/?format=json","airdate":"2025-12-15T19:55:44-08:00","show":65389,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Felpa","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Parque de Cometas","artist_ids":["252a112d-8dc4-44d6-aef0-67143b89cc76"],"album":"Felpa","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2021-08-13","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Felpa is a great title because it’s tactile: velvet, fuzz, softness you can feel against skin. That kind of word often points to a song that values texture as much as melody—music that wants to be touched, not just heard. The track is best approached as a material: something plush, enveloping, and slightly muted at the edges. “Soft” music doesn’t have to be passive, and the most compelling velvet-toned songs carry an undercurrent of tension—like comfort that’s almost too intense, intimacy that feels risky. In that sense, Felpa can function as an emotional close-up. It brings the listener nearer, lowers the volume of the outside world, and amplifies small details: the space around the voice, the shimmer or grain in the instrumentation, the way the groove breathes. In a playlist, it’s a glue track—something that smooths transitions and keeps the sequence feeling intentional. Put it between louder moments to make them hit harder when they return.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Parque%20de%20Cometas%20Felpa","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}