{"id":3615427,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3615427/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-09T19:12:48-08:00","show":65891,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65891/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/e861b9af-ef5e-4684-bd21-5cd8822a7030/21201213815-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/e861b9af-ef5e-4684-bd21-5cd8822a7030/21201213815-250.jpg","song":"Un Gran Circo","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Maldita Vecindad y Los Hijos del Quinto Patio","artist_ids":["603358be-cfcd-442a-b251-994a75208719"],"album":"El circo","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"3f567c84-5e98-3464-8630-136bc7552be3","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"1991-08-13","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Un Gran Circo” sits inside Maldita Vecindad’s landmark early-90s era, when the band fused rock attitude with ska propulsion and a distinctly urban Mexican sensibility. They’ve always had a gift for turning social observation into something you can sing in unison, and this track frames the world as spectacle—bright lights, sharp edges, and the uneasy feeling that entertainment and reality have been stitched together. Musically, the band’s strength is how they make complexity feel immediate: rhythms that spring forward, accents that feel like street corners and sirens, and vocals that can sound both playful and accusatory in the same breath. “Un Gran Circo” moves like a parade that knows it’s being watched, and that tension is the engine—joy and critique riding the same beat. It’s a song that doesn’t merely describe chaos; it choreographs it, inviting you to dance while asking what the dance is covering up.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/track/5BwVAAJzAuzpDHeWuKdFsN","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}