{"id":3591591,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591591/?format=json","airdate":"2025-12-15T21:09:17-08:00","show":65389,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Solo contra Todos","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Socorro","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":"Socorro’s broader profile is not widely documented in mainstream English-language reference sources, but the available platform metadata clearly places this track within a punk context. \u2028Solo contra Todos is a classic punk phrase because it’s both stance and confession: standing alone can be brave, but it can also be exhausting. The track carries that dual meaning well. It feels like a song built for the moment when you decide to stop negotiating—when you accept that you might be outnumbered and you do it anyway. The energy is forward and blunt, but the emotional content reads as personal rather than purely political posturing. That’s what makes it hit: the conviction feels lived-in. The best punk songs don’t just say “fight”; they show what it costs to keep fighting, and they offer the groove as a way to metabolize that cost. Solo contra Todos functions as catharsis and as fuel. It’s the kind of song that can make a room move, but it can also make a solitary listener feel less isolated—because someone else has named the feeling out loud. Put it on when you need momentum with teeth.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/153dPNiqCp9VYiiYDRlRnf","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}