{"id":3591568,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591568/?format=json","airdate":"2025-12-15T20:00:07-08:00","show":65389,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"El muchacho de los ojos tristes","track_id":null,"recording_id":"288d2dd4-5a3c-44af-be18-8ec0ede8400a","artist":"Jeanette","artist_ids":["327a9b38-0817-4cce-858e-84ce8f56864b"],"album":"Corazón de poeta","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"b26d17cc-befa-3a7b-b8e7-103162d0b137","labels":["Sony Music Entertainment España, S.L."],"label_ids":["268913ca-3869-4e00-88c5-808e90078fe9"],"release_date":"1981-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes is built around an image that’s instantly cinematic: a person whose sadness is visible before they say a word. The song’s emotional power comes from how it treats melancholy as something delicate rather than dramatic—more like a quiet weather that follows someone around. That quietness is why it lasts. Instead of needing big gestures, it relies on phrasing, softness, and the listener’s willingness to step closer. Songs like this work because they leave space for your own memories; the narrative feels specific, but the emotion is transferable. You can project your own “sad-eyed boy” into the frame: a first love, a stranger, yourself at a certain age. The track also functions as a reset in a playlist heavy on high energy. It slows the pulse without turning into background; it demands attention through tenderness. If you grew up with this song, it hits as nostalgia. If you didn’t, it still hits because it’s fundamentally about empathy—recognizing sadness and choosing to stay with it for a few minutes.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Jeanette%20El%20Muchacho%20de%20los%20Ojos%20Tristes","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}