Play Public List
Information about plays
list: List of plays
retrieve: Information about a specific play by ID
GET /v2/plays/?format=api&offset=63580&ordering=-airdate
{ "next": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=api&limit=20&offset=63600&ordering=-airdate", "previous": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=api&limit=20&offset=63560&ordering=-airdate", "results": [ { "id": 3591610, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591610/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T22:00:26-08:00", "show": 65390, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65390/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Quédate", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Caicedo", "artist_ids": [], "album": "Pasará", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": null, "labels": [ "Self-Released" ], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2025-01-01", "rotation_status": "R/N", "is_local": true, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Hi pals, welcome to the show!", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591609, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591609/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T22:00:01-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "comment": "", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "airbreak" }, { "id": 3591608, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591608/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:56:04-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Marlboro Rojo", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "c48142ff-3c83-4aeb-afdc-e2281cec3f1c", "artist": "Fuerza Regida", "artist_ids": [ "e665ce26-6ce9-4c42-8f6a-7a361a0ba328" ], "album": "111XPANTIA", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "fef2a38d-ea49-46e5-9886-4a668588969d", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2025-05-05", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "“Marlboro Rojo” is a 2025 single by Fuerza Regida, the American regional Mexican band that has played a major role in bringing modern norteño and corridos to global audiences. The song appears on their ninth studio album 111XPANTIA and has become one of the group’s most successful releases, topping Billboard’s Hot Latin Songs and Regional Mexican charts following its May 2, 2025 release. \n\nMusically, “Marlboro Rojo” channels a classic yet contemporary norteño sound, featuring traditional instrumentation like tuba and guitars alongside streetwise production. The lyrics — delivered in Spanish — paint vivid, high-adrenaline scenes that blend bravado, risk, and loyalty, with imagery of cigarettes, fast cars, and tension-filled nights creating a cinematic feel. \n\n While rooted in the corridos tradition of storytelling about life on the edge, the track’s production and catchy hooks have helped it resonate with both regional Mexican fans and broader Latin audiences. \n\nPart of what makes the song stand out is its balance of tradition and modern energy: familiar genre elements are presented with punchy, rhythmic drive that invites repeated listens. In the context of 111XPANTIA, “Marlboro Rojo” functions as a centerpiece that captures the album’s blend of hard-charging narratives and pop-ready catchiness. \nWikipedia\n\nListen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Fuerza%20Regida%20Marlboro%20Rojo", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591607, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591607/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:53:00-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Pienso en ti", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Los Flakos", "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": "Pienso en ti is a title that doesn’t need metaphor—it’s already the whole story: “I think of you.” The power of songs built on that phrase is how they turn repetition into proof. Thinking of someone is not an event; it’s a loop. The song works best when you let it live inside that loop—small variations in feeling, the way memory shifts across the day, the mix of sweetness and irritation that comes from not being able to control your own attention. Tracks like this often succeed because they don’t pretend love is clean. Thinking of you can be devotion, regret, nostalgia, temptation, or self-punishment. The music can carry all those possibilities depending on how it’s arranged and delivered: a tender melody can feel like comfort, while the same melody repeated can feel like a trap. In a playlist, Pienso en ti is a humanizing moment—simple language, direct sentiment, and emotional accessibility. It’s ideal for the section of a sequence where you want the listener to soften without falling asleep.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Los%20Flakos%20Pienso%20en%20ti", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591606, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591606/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:51:39-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "POV", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "St. Mängata", "artist_ids": [ "964f4a7d-9e92-4fd7-9e3d-7f1e583f6fb0" ], "album": "POV", "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": "Background information on St. Mängata is limited in standard public references, so this writeup focuses on how POV functions as a track title and listening experience rather than asserting biography. \u2028POV is a title that tells you exactly where to stand: inside someone’s viewpoint. That framing is very contemporary—born from internet culture, storytelling clips, and the idea that perspective is the product. As a song, it tends to work when you treat it like a camera move: close-up, subjective, emotionally edited. The hook isn’t only melodic; it’s the feeling of being placed inside a specific headspace. That can translate as intimacy, confession, or manipulation depending on how you hear it. The best “POV” songs operate like a short film: quick cuts, sensory detail, and an implied narrative you fill in yourself. It’s also a useful track type for playlists because it shifts focus away from generic mood and toward character. Even if you don’t know the artist’s full story, the song invites you to borrow a lens for a few minutes—see through it, feel through it, then step back out. Play it when you want your sequence to feel personal and a little voyeuristic in the best way.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/St.%20M%C3%A4ngata%20POV", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591605, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591605/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:49:00-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "comment": "", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "airbreak" }, { "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" }, { "id": 3591603, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591603/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:42:52-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Silencio + Suicidio", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "2178b6f1-0914-4c5c-88aa-c031c62e6b30", "artist": "LAHORKA", "artist_ids": [ "ef81b292-a40c-4b53-88ed-e47e014d5480" ], "album": "Silencio + Suicidio", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "0caf39d4-2c53-4ef5-a645-624d9c4d4823", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2024-11-07", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Silencio + Suicidio is a title that confronts you immediately: silence paired with a word that signals extreme stakes. Without romanticizing anything, it reads as a track about the edge—what happens when the internal world gets too loud, or when language fails, or when the body becomes a battleground. The song works best when you treat it as an expression of pressure rather than a plot. In electronic/industrial contexts, intensity often functions as translation: harsh textures for harsh feeling, repetition for obsessive thought, and cold precision for emotional numbness. That can be cathartic because it externalizes what’s usually private. This track belongs in that lineage: music that doesn’t comfort you with softness, but with recognition. In a set, it can be a dark focal point—a moment where the room collectively enters a heavier space, then exits changed. If you program carefully, it also works as a bridge between punk, EBM, and darker synth music because it shares the same core ethic: honesty through force. If you or someone you know is struggling, pair listening with real support, not isolation.\u2028Listen: https://lahorka.bandcamp.com/track/silencio-suicidio", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591602, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591602/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:40:15-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Euth", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Sad Name", "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": "Euth is a title that feels abrupt—four letters that suggest endings, decisions, and a clinical kind of finality. Without assuming a specific narrative, the track works best as a meditation on closure: the moment when something is over and you’re left dealing with the echo. Songs with titles like this often carry emotional heaviness even when the music isn’t slow. They can sound composed while still feeling raw underneath, which mirrors how people actually experience difficult endings: you might look calm while your insides are loud. In a playlist, Euth is useful as a pivot into darker emotional territory without requiring melodrama. It invites the listener to sit with discomfort in a controlled way—music as container. If you’re sequencing for a late-night set or a reflective listening arc, this track can serve as the point where the narrative becomes more serious. It’s not necessarily hopeless; “ending” is also “release,” and the ambiguity lets different listeners take different meanings. The key is the atmosphere: this track signals consequence.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/3vgZcRo7x8ciel6MDNQMF6", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591601, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591601/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:37:50-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Vampiro", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "38d06fee-7525-4042-a4f2-851f55ddf5cc", "artist": "French Police", "artist_ids": [ "90cf1e25-ffc0-4637-a0fe-205736f9ce10" ], "album": "Haunted Castle (Extended Play)", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "bf8df94b-1555-4f29-97b1-20790b06d2f5", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2021-04-20", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Vampiro is a title that practically writes the lighting for you: night, desire, danger, and intimacy that drains. The best vampire songs are rarely about literal monsters—they’re about relationships that take more than they give, attractions you can’t quit, and the thrill of surrendering control even when you know better. This track works when you lean into that metaphor. French Police tend to deliver the kind of darkwave pulse that keeps bodies moving while the mood stays cold and seductive. That’s the sweet spot: dance music with shadow. In a playlist, Vampiro is a reliable mood setter for late hours. It can connect goth, post-punk, synth-driven indie, and even some darker reggaeton-adjacent selections because the emotional theme is universal: longing with teeth. The song’s effectiveness is in its posture—cool, nocturnal, and slightly dangerous—but still accessible enough to hook people who don’t think of themselves as “goth.” It’s romance with a warning label, delivered with style.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/French%20Police%20Vampiro", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591600, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591600/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:35:48-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "CUCHILLOS", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Foudeqush", "artist_ids": [ "dfe4bf9e-0ffc-4d50-bf2e-d2c11ad45342" ], "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": "CUCHILLOS is a title that suggests sharpness—cutting words, cut ties, cut through illusions. The track functions like a pop thriller: sleek surfaces with danger underneath. Rather than leaning into rawness, it often feels polished in a way that makes the menace more interesting—like a knife that shines. That contrast is where the emotion lives: vulnerability presented through control, pain presented through precision. Songs with this framing can be danced to, but they’re not “happy” dance; they’re movement as coping strategy. In a playlist, CUCHILLOS is a strong pivot from bright to dark without becoming heavy-handed. It keeps the tempo or momentum while changing the emotional lighting. If you like pop that treats drama as design—where the mix, the rhythm, and the vocal choices all feel like wardrobe decisions—this is a strong fit. It’s a track that can soundtrack confidence and heartbreak at the same time, which is exactly what modern pop does best when it’s honest: it lets you look good while you fall apart.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Foudeqush%20CUCHILLOS", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591599, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591599/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:31:49-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Solovino", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "5e9488f7-e39b-45d6-9092-b36fda8d0f22", "artist": "Luisa Almaguer", "artist_ids": [ "4619405a-b168-4548-a56b-e4587466c382" ], "album": "", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": null, "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2020-04-28", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Luisa Almaguer is widely covered as a Mexican singer-songwriter and trans artist whose work blends rock-pop intimacy with strong lyrical presence and emotional directness. \u2028Solovino is a title that suggests independence with a bruise. Being “solo” can be freedom, but it can also be the consequence of choosing truth over comfort. The song works best when you hear it as self-definition: a voice narrating the cost of being oneself while refusing to soften the edges for anyone else’s convenience. Luisa’s strengths often show up in that balance—tenderness that’s not timid, vulnerability that doesn’t perform helplessness. The track feels like a late-night confession that still holds posture. In a playlist, Solovino is an emotional anchor: it slows things down, brings focus back to the human voice, and raises the stakes without needing volume. It’s also a song that can change meaning depending on the listener’s moment. If you’re in transition, it hits as solidarity. If you’re in grief, it hits as clarity. If you’re in love, it hits as warning. That’s what good songwriting does: it stays open while still being specific.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Luisa%20Almaguer%20Solovino", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591598, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591598/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:30:15-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "comment": "", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "airbreak" }, { "id": 3591597, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591597/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:25:07-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Host of a Ghost", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "0f09125d-c2cc-4fbb-b32f-22cc34a4810f", "artist": "Porter", "artist_ids": [ "36ae137b-1e86-4ee3-8932-3eb312cfa714" ], "album": "Atemahawke", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "27eef4db-3fd3-3a4e-9431-75618bb708fd", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2007-05-15", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Porter is widely covered as a Mexican indie rock band with a reputation for cinematic, emotionally charged songwriting and careful production sensibility. \u2028Host of a Ghost is a strong title because it flips the expected relationship: you’re not haunted by a ghost—the ghost is hosted by you. That implies intimacy with grief, memory, or obsession: the haunting lives inside, rents space, rearranges the furniture. The song works when you let that idea guide the listening. Rather than pure melancholy, it tends to feel like a controlled unfolding: tension held in the arrangement, then released in waves. Porter’s music often favors drama that’s earned, not theatrical for its own sake, and that makes a track like this feel like a short film—images implied rather than explained. The vocal delivery can feel close and confessional, while the instrumentation builds an environment around it: guitars that shimmer or cut, rhythm that pushes forward, and transitions that feel like scene changes. If you’re sequencing music for a night drive or a long walk, this is a perfect “interior monologue” moment—emotional, lucid, and slightly supernatural in its atmosphere.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Porter%20Host%20of%20a%20Ghost", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591596, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591596/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:23:43-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Magia", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Ola Magenta", "artist_ids": [ "cdff746e-6f8a-43be-82ac-7c35bb7abe24" ], "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": "Ola Magenta’s presence and release catalog are clearly visible on major platforms, and the track Magia is directly documented there.\u2028Magia is the kind of title that can mean anything, which is exactly why it works: “magic” can be romance, illusion, self-defense, transformation, or just the sudden feeling that life is brighter for no logical reason. The track plays well when you treat it as a charm—something small you carry with you to change the mood of your day. Instead of demanding deep interpretation, it offers a clean emotional function: lift, glow, momentum. That doesn’t make it shallow; it makes it practical. Some songs are essays, some are spells. Magia leans toward spell. In a playlist, it works as a turning point from heavy to light, or from boredom to motion. It can soundtrack getting ready, walking fast, texting someone you shouldn’t, or deciding you actually can start over. The best pop-leaning tracks don’t just entertain; they give your nervous system a new option. Magia feels like that—an alternate route out of your own head.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/6X802Oflvx2dhW2s3yZgu3", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591594, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591594/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:20:00-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "You Talk Too Much", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "df287698-cef1-473e-a304-3f10fd2315f9", "artist": "NORWAYY", "artist_ids": [ "6240c79b-25bb-4c6d-9d6d-7f1abfe619ab" ], "album": "NORWAYY", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "b89e3fba-5698-4883-8a17-b8d3ea8a3b65", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "2016-11-26", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Public biographical coverage for Norwayy is limited in mainstream sources, but the track’s presence and release context are clearly documented on major streaming platforms. \u2028You Talk Too Much is a perfect title for a song that wants to cut through noise. It’s accusation, boundary, and punchline all at once. The track lands best when you hear it as a confrontation that’s also a kind of liberation: naming the dynamic, refusing to keep participating, and turning irritation into motion. Songs with this framing often succeed because they tap into a universal social fatigue—people explaining themselves endlessly, people performing opinions, people filling silence because silence scares them. The music can carry that critique even without heavy-handed messaging: tension in the groove, clipped phrasing, hooks that feel like repetition of a complaint you’ve said too many times. In a playlist, this track functions as a palate cleanser after something emotional or dramatic. It brings the focus back to the present: the body, the beat, the directness of a simple statement. It’s also a useful track for anyone who likes music with attitude that doesn’t require lore. The title is the lore.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0dzRTayCu78PbPWXvuaDSv", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591592, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591592/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:16:15-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "¡Pum-Pum!, ¡Bang-Bang!", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "8993a20c-d4da-4430-9533-0eea6fc5fbd3", "artist": "Los Esquizitos", "artist_ids": [ "605936ce-fd35-428e-99ae-56584f62d49d" ], "album": "Los Esquizitos", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "fe9ed2bb-b8fa-3b83-b7dc-d7276b91f346", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "1998-01-01", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Public reference coverage for Los Esquizitos is limited in mainstream databases, so this description stays focused on the track’s implied function and the emotional mechanics of its framing rather than asserting biography.\u2028¡Pum-Pum! ¡Bang-Bang! is a title that’s basically percussion written as language. It suggests comic-book violence, dance-floor impact, or both. The best part of titles like this is they give you permission to listen physically: you’re not here for subtlety, you’re here for hits. The track works best as a kinetic object—something you drop into a set when you want the room to wake up, laugh, or stomp. Even without knowing the band’s full story, you can feel the intention: high energy, bold gestures, and a sense that the song is trying to be larger than the speakers. In playlists, this kind of track acts as a jolt. It resets attention because it’s so explicitly rhythmic in its naming and presumably in its structure. It also carries a performative humor that can lighten heavier sequences. Think of it as a mood grenade: short fuse, big effect. Put it between more serious tracks to create contrast, or use it as a moment of pure release—movement without explanation.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Los%20Esquizitos%20Pum-Pum%20Bang-Bang", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591593, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591593/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:12:23-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "El garage de Gina Monster", "track_id": null, "recording_id": "657b4395-7ecb-4ca6-8863-2161757c5bdb", "artist": "Lost Acapulco", "artist_ids": [ "f85ce554-eefa-4408-be2e-2b55938333dd" ], "album": "4", "release_id": null, "release_group_id": "3a27f5b6-da67-35fe-a5ea-dd12303794f0", "labels": [], "label_ids": [], "release_date": "1998-08-01", "rotation_status": null, "is_local": false, "is_request": false, "is_live": false, "comment": "Lost Acapulco are widely covered as a Mexican instrumental surf/garage band known for fast, reverb-heavy guitar work and high-energy live reputation. \u2028El Garage de Ginna Monster is exactly the kind of title that suits surf/garage instrumentals: playful, cinematic, and a little absurd. It suggests a specific place—a garage—turned into a mythic set, like a B-movie scene where something wild is about to happen. That’s the charm of this style: storytelling without lyrics. The guitars do the talking, and the rhythm section provides the chase sequence. Lost Acapulco’s best tracks feel like motion—skateboard speed, horror-comic humor, and hot-rod adrenaline all at once. This song works in playlists because it’s both functional and distinctive. It can lift energy in a room without competing with conversation, and it can also serve as a palate cleanser between vocal-heavy tracks. There’s also a physical nostalgia in surf music: reverb as time machine, tremolo as heartbeat. El Garage de Ginna Monster taps into that while keeping the mood mischievous rather than retro-precious. Put it on when you want fun with teeth, and when you want guitars to sound like they’re grinning.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Lost%20Acapulco%20El%20Garage%20de%20Ginna%20Monster", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" }, { "id": 3591591, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591591/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:09:17-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "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" }, { "id": 3591590, "uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591590/?format=api", "airdate": "2025-12-15T21:05:55-08:00", "show": 65389, "show_uri": "https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=api", "image_uri": "", "thumbnail_uri": "", "song": "Fuga a portales subale hay lugares", "track_id": null, "recording_id": null, "artist": "Perritos Genéricos", "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": "fuga a portales subale hay lugares reads like a stream-of-consciousness note that accidentally became a title—urgent, conspiratorial, and oddly hopeful. That kind of naming usually points to music that values mood and narrative over tidy branding. The experience of the track is less about arriving at a single “meaning” and more about letting it open doors: you follow fragments, you catch phrases, and you move through emotional rooms quickly. It plays well for listeners who like songs that feel like artifacts from a larger world—like you walked in halfway through a story and you’re trying to catch the plot by feeling it rather than decoding it. The best way to approach it is as motion: a “fuga” suggests escape, and the track’s energy supports that idea—restless, searching, and slightly tilted toward the surreal. It’s a good add when you want a playlist to feel less predictable, more like a late-night rabbit hole where you keep clicking because something feels real even if you can’t summarize it yet.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Perritos%20Gen%C3%A9ricos%20fuga%20a%20portales", "location": 1, "location_name": "Default", "play_type": "trackplay" } ] }