Information about plays

list: List of plays
retrieve: Information about a specific play by ID

GET /v2/plays/3591604/?format=api
HTTP 200 OK
Allow: GET, HEAD, OPTIONS
Content-Type: application/json
Vary: Accept

{
    "id": 3591604,
    "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591604/?format=api",
    "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:45:02-08:00",
    "show": 65389,
    "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api",
    "image_uri": "",
    "thumbnail_uri": "",
    "song": "Eclipse",
    "track_id": null,
    "recording_id": null,
    "artist": "HERMAFRODITA",
    "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": "Eclipse is a title that implies temporary darkness: the light is blocked, not destroyed. That distinction matters emotionally. It frames the song as a passage through shadow rather than a permanent collapse. The track works best when you hear it as transformation—something shifting overhead, something changing the temperature, something making familiar things look strange. “Eclipse” also suggests duality: two bodies aligned, one covering the other, a relationship that changes what’s visible. That’s fertile territory for music that leans nocturnal, romantic, or confrontational. In a playlist, Eclipse functions as a scene change. It can deepen the mood without killing momentum, and it carries symbolic clarity that listeners can hold onto even if they don’t know the artist’s full story. The best eclipse songs feel physical: a dimming, a hush, a sudden intensity because the world briefly looks different. This track belongs in that space—music for the moment when you realize you’re not in the same light you were five minutes ago.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/11GoNdW03EYXzGkCN0Ofzs",
    "location": 1,
    "location_name": "Default",
    "play_type": "trackplay"
}