{"id":3624514,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3624514/?format=json","airdate":"2026-03-02T20:20:42-08:00","show":66075,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/66075/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Tren al sur","track_id":null,"recording_id":"344a3096-6646-45b5-8885-12ef0365cd9c","artist":"Los Prisioneros","artist_ids":["a1d044b9-76c9-46d7-a5a6-0f52421e1ed7"],"album":"Corazones","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"c50ba999-f67f-39da-ab4a-c77a618ddb37","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"1990-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Tren Al Sur” turns a simple departure into a full-body memory: the early morning, the seat by the window, the steady pull of rails as the city loosens its grip. The song moves with the calm insistence of travel—those repeating patterns that feel like wheels on track—while the melody opens outward like landscape. It’s pop built with restraint, but the emotion is enormous: a longing for air, for distance, for the kind of place that feels like home even if you only reach it in your head. The chorus lands like a collective chant, the kind that lives in stadiums and living rooms at the same time, because it names something shared—escape, return, and the complicated relief of going “south.” There’s tenderness in the details and steel in the momentum. You can hear a whole era of Latin American songwriting here: social reality carried inside a hook, poetry that never abandons rhythm. “Tren Al Sur” doesn’t romanticize leaving; it honors the need to move, even when what you carry can’t be put down.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/6W1BLmVBxkqZwFQcORQLnv","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}