{"next":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=json&limit=20&offset=30720&ordering=-airdate","previous":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=json&limit=20&offset=30680&ordering=-airdate","results":[{"id":3618450,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618450/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T22:07:19-08:00","show":65954,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65954/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Patience & Respect","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Stella & The Longos","artist_ids":[],"album":"Amour Propre","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":["Cosmic Romance"],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-01-01","rotation_status":"R/N","is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Tip top vibes from Berlin's Stella Zekri and producer Ed Longo - https://stellathelongos.bandcamp.com/album/amour-propre","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618449,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618449/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T22:03:15-08:00","show":65954,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65954/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Samba Da Dona Odete","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Ricardo Verocai & Katia Drumond","artist_ids":[],"album":"Tapioca - Brasil Diverso","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":["Poeira Music"],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-01-01","rotation_status":"R/N","is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Contemporary sounds from Brazil - https://poeiramusic.bandcamp.com/music","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618448,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618448/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T22:00:22-08:00","show":65954,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65954/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Nadie Baila Como Yo","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Bobby Matos & The Combo Conquistadores","artist_ids":[],"album":"My Latin Soul","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":["Mr Bongo"],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-01-01","rotation_status":"R/N","is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Hi pals, welcome to the show!","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618447,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618447/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T22:00:01-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","comment":"","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"airbreak"},{"id":3618446,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618446/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:55:11-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"El verde de tus ojos","track_id":null,"recording_id":"5d250c0e-1440-47bd-ad3b-e0c18c9ed1b8","artist":"Los Yes Yes","artist_ids":["3c16cde2-2139-4964-bfec-f2a80747e13d"],"album":"Serie 20 éxitos","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"f0122d80-2662-45ba-899e-ab9bec8479b6","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2014-05-20","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Los Yes Yes are a long-running Mexican cumbia institution, widely described as pioneers of the cumbia andina movement—blending the bright, highland aerophones (kenas, zampoñas) with a signature keyboard presence and the sonidero sensibility that turns songs into communal declarations. “El Verde De Tus Ojos” is one of those tracks that lives by pure romantic focus: the whole world narrowed down to a detail—green eyes—as if devotion can be measured by color. The melody carries that classic cumbia logic of sweetness and insistence, designed to be sung back by a crowd that already knows the next line. What makes it endure is how it balances innocence with obsession: admiration that feels pure, but also slightly haunted by how completely it takes over. In sonidero culture, a song isn’t only a recording; it’s a vehicle for shout-outs, dedications, and public emotion. “El Verde De Tus Ojos” fits that role perfectly: a simple image that becomes an excuse to confess, to toast, to remember, to flirt, to ache. It’s music that turns longing into dance steps—soft at the surface, relentless underneath.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0VsrjmyQy7Z273asNaJYx8","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618445,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618445/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:50:45-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/f8a925c9-3d7d-4473-8feb-ec4f4deb4e87/16265473385-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/f8a925c9-3d7d-4473-8feb-ec4f4deb4e87/16265473385-250.jpg","song":"Bocanegra","track_id":null,"recording_id":"85add665-cd09-45d7-983f-555258e1c9c3","artist":"Sonido Gallo Negro","artist_ids":["8bb6daa4-a98c-4670-bb1f-d1933c51986d"],"album":"Cumbia salvaje","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"29ad9c90-417b-445a-b699-7c01ef6fa71f","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2011-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Sonido Gallo Negro operate like a psychedelic tropical engine: a Mexico City project that channels 70s Peruvian cumbia’s hypnotic swing, then injects it with garage attitude—Farfisa organs, fuzzed guitars, and that inseparable güiro carving the rhythm into your ribs. “Bocanegra” is a prime example of why they’ve become a cornerstone of the modern “cumbia lisérgica” revival: it’s instrumental storytelling designed for movement, where repetition becomes trance and small melodic turns feel like the room subtly changing shape. The track’s groove is steady and ceremonial, but the tone is cinematic—half dance floor, half pulpy nocturnal film, with colors that feel saturated and slightly haunted. Sonido Gallo Negro’s strength is how they make history feel present: you can hear the lineage of tropical psychedelia, yet nothing about it feels like reenactment. “Bocanegra” moves forward with a confident gait, like a masked procession that’s smiling while it hypnotizes you. It’s a song that doesn’t need lyrics to speak—its message is in the sway, the shimmer, and the insistence that your body understands before your mind does.\u2028Listen: https://sonidogallonegro.bandcamp.com/track/bocanegra","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618444,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618444/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:46:29-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"El Vampiro Gay","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"El Muertho De Tijuana","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":"El Muertho De Tijuana is a cult figure of border-city DIY—known for street-performance intensity, gravelly vocals, theatrical KISS-style makeup, and songs that swing between shock, comedy, and strangely sincere advice. “El Vampiro Gay” carries that exact mix: a lurid, campy premise delivered with the conviction of someone who’s been singing to strangers in the open air long enough to trust the instinct over the rules. The track lives in El Muertho’s universe where rock’n’roll is both joke and lifeline—where the grotesque becomes a costume you wear to tell the truth louder. There’s a particular borderland magic in how he frames darkness: not as refined goth romance, but as alleyway folklore—devils, vices, bodies, belief, survival—turned into choruses people remember. “El Vampiro Gay” plays like midnight theater: funny, abrasive, strangely tender in the way it refuses shame. The character at the center isn’t a monster to fear; it’s a monster to dance with, a mirror for desire that doesn’t want to be sanitized. In El Muertho’s hands, the taboo becomes communal—something you can laugh at, sing back, and carry home like a talisman.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/5LXFtQL8YujNtTCcw768x8","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618443,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618443/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:43:30-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","comment":"","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"airbreak"},{"id":3618442,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618442/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:40:40-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/9de78ca8-38ec-4801-8d9a-a8805399b988/27357445389-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/9de78ca8-38ec-4801-8d9a-a8805399b988/27357445389-250.jpg","song":"Delicadeza","track_id":null,"recording_id":"34df5716-92fd-4abd-94d4-9b00d7068330","artist":"Mint Field","artist_ids":["561d322a-4950-4026-99f8-03f7eecbb5cf"],"album":"Sentimiento Mundial","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"0ebab26f-dbe0-4209-8d51-ce0093bce071","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2020-09-25","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Delicadeza” is a dream‑soaked, introspective single by Mint Field, the acclaimed Mexican shoegaze/psych‑pop trio originally formed in Tijuana and now based in Mexico City. Known for their atmospheric blend of shoegaze, dream pop, and subtle trip‑hop textures, Mint Field makes expansive, emotive music that juxtaposes swirling guitars, hazy production, and Estrella del Sol’s evocative vocals.\n\nReleased as part of their second full‑length album Sentimiento Mundial in 2020 (and later featured in live sessions), “Delicadeza” showcases the band’s evolution toward a more refined, rhythmically intuitive sound. While earlier work leaned into dense layers of distortion and reverb, this track embraces space and sensitivity: its title—delicadeza (delicacy)—becomes both theme and mood. In the minimalist lyrics, the singer falls into sensitivity and emotional thought, trusting in the fragile, internal landscape as a source of self‑guidance and artistic resolve.\n\nMusically, the song’s dreamy guitar lines and soft percussion create a contemplative atmosphere that feels nostalgic and intimate. It’s a standout example of how Mint Field translates introspection into sound, turning emotional nuance into immersive sonic textures.\n\nBandcamp: https://mintfield.bandcamp.com/track/delicadeza","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618440,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618440/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:33:08-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Mala Memoria","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Adiós Cometa","artist_ids":["37f88daa-16cc-4a54-856c-327f85886b8c"],"album":"Un Destello de Luz","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2026-01-29","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Mala Memoria” is the long, cinematic heartbreaker in Adiós Cometa’s 2026 album Un destello de luz—an extended piece that treats grief like weather and memory like an element you can’t breathe without. The track features María Paula Vásquez (Encarta 98) on vocals and Joaquín Vanrafelghem (Encarta 98) on saxophone, expanding the band’s shoegaze/post-rock palette into something even more spectral and human. The lyrics (as presented on Bandcamp) revolve around the idea of burning memory to survive it—an image that feels both violent and merciful, like cauterizing a wound. What makes “Mala Memoria” hit is its patience: it doesn’t rush the feeling, it lets the sadness develop layers, then lets the instrumentation carry the emotional weight when words start to fail. The collaboration choices matter, too—Encarta 98’s dream-pop/shoegaze lineage aligns with Adiós Cometa’s tendency to make heaviness shimmer instead of collapse. “Mala Memoria” feels like walking through a room full of photographs you can’t look at directly, hearing a sax line bloom like a bruise under light. It’s catharsis that arrives slowly, the way real letting-go does.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0nsAlIrnrwZrsEFxjX63TP","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618439,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618439/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:29:20-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Corazón de pollo","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Estamos Perdidos","artist_ids":[],"album":"Corazón de pollo","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2026-02-10","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Corazón de pollo” is a brand-new jolt from Estamos Perdidos, released February 10, 2026, and it arrives with the blunt immediacy of a confession you can’t polish without losing the truth. The title is vivid and a little brutal—“chicken heart” suggesting vulnerability, jittery courage, the body’s instinct to flinch even when the mind wants to be brave. As a single, it stands on its own like a fresh scar: short enough to hit hard, memorable enough to linger. With limited long-form band background in the surfaced sources, the track’s context is best read through its posture—straightforward emotional language, a sense of momentum, and the feeling of trying to laugh at your own softness before the world does it for you. There’s a pop-punk logic in that: turn embarrassment into a chorus, turn fear into something you can shout with friends. “Corazón de pollo” feels like the moment you admit you’re still affected, still tender, still alive—then you sprint forward anyway. It’s music as self-mockery and self-defense, a small anthem for anyone learning that sensitivity doesn’t disqualify you from being loud.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/2AmBHtF9A6mvsVz7QNRbB1","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618437,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618437/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:24:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Lady Blue","track_id":null,"recording_id":"86592019-ae19-4b06-9480-95df1b2261e4","artist":"Bunbury","artist_ids":["9047fd95-770f-4a8a-a6e3-3b071a882e4d"],"album":"Flamingos","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"6efd2fe4-fb2b-387d-a32f-bc879da43a17","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2002-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Lady Blue” is one of the most enduring songs by Enrique Bunbury, the iconic Spanish rock artist known for blending literate songwriting with eclectic musical influences. Originally released in 2002 as the lead single from his third solo album Flamingos, the song helped cement Bunbury’s transition from his former band Héroes del Silencio into a singular creative voice in Spanish‑language rock and pop.\n\nThe track balances introspective lyricism with atmospheric soundscapes, pairing shimmering guitars and mid‑tempo rhythms with Bunbury’s expressive vocals. Lyrically, “Lady Blue” evokes imagery of emptiness and nostalgia through metaphors of space and isolation — portraying a sense of drifting without direction after the loss of someone deeply significant. Bunbury uses metaphorical cosmic imagery to capture the emotional void left behind, making the song both poetic and deeply human.\n\nOver the years, “Lady Blue” has become a fan favorite and a staple in Bunbury’s live sets, its reflective tone and rich arrangement resonating across generations of listeners. The song’s enduring appeal stems from its emotional depth and Bunbury’s ability to craft evocative melodies that linger long after the music ends.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/0kXg2NwKQFzWvXsy9QPVK0?si=example","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618436,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618436/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:21:35-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Hombre & Mujer","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Ronco","artist_ids":["c7b48f3f-e796-469e-b465-436010578221"],"album":"Hombre & Mujer","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":"RONCO’s “Hombre & Mujer” is built around a classic push-pull: attraction, misunderstanding, stubborn tenderness, the way two people can be drawn together while speaking slightly different emotional languages. The single is explicitly framed in official release messaging as a love song about “the fusion with the opposite unity,” which matches the track’s lyrical posture—imperfect, human, and insistently hopeful. The hook leans into everyday phrasing rather than poetic abstraction, and that directness is part of its charm: it sounds like someone talking fast because they finally decided to say what they mean. Musically, it keeps a steady forward drive—enough rhythm to feel like motion, enough melodic lift to feel like reassurance. The title’s simplicity is doing real work here: “man and woman” as archetype, but also as messy reality, two roles people inherit and then try to renegotiate in real time. “Hombre & Mujer” plays like a scene mid-argument that suddenly turns into a laugh—when the tension breaks and you remember you’re on the same side. It’s an unpretentious song with a real emotional core: love not as perfection, but as the decision to keep reaching across the gap.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/4nljAfW4umAABmGEroh8VD","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618435,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618435/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:17:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Todo lo que","track_id":null,"recording_id":"a92f1685-1edc-4d29-99b1-75fa471fa7be","artist":"Mora y los Metegoles","artist_ids":["cdf60c2f-b876-45a0-932b-6e8d96505a6a"],"album":"Suerte","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"4de2df8d-9c65-4001-9dd0-8768309f4bbc","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2022-11-25","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Todo lo que” appears on Suerte (2022), and it captures what makes Mora y los Metegoles such a compelling force in contemporary Argentine rock: bright melodic instinct paired with lyrics that refuse to romanticize dissatisfaction. The band formed in La Plata and self-describe their sound as “wendy rock,” a term that signals playfulness, but the songwriting often cuts deeper than the jokes. “Todo lo que” hinges on a brutal little truth—everything you thought you wanted, once you get it, can suddenly feel wrong. That reversal is the song’s engine: desire collapsing into clarity, the inventory of dreams turning into a list of things you no longer recognize. The arrangement keeps it moving, as if momentum can outrun regret, but the lyric idea keeps tugging back like a sleeve. Mora y los Metegoles excel at making that tension singable: big enough to shout, precise enough to sting. In the lineage of La Plata’s indie tradition—where wit, angst, and hooks coexist—“Todo lo que” feels like a clean, sharp entry: a track that admits the self can change faster than the world can keep up. It’s not nihilism; it’s recalibration in real time.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/track/6FxLIBKxcxkJhYFY24XUkH","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618434,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618434/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:16:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","comment":"","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"airbreak"},{"id":3618433,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618433/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:09:40-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"México Querétaro","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"ACTY","artist_ids":["f1e4286c-6502-499e-9bc5-79149d586cda"],"album":"México Querétaro","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2021-10-09","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"ACTY’s “México Querétaro” unfolds like a slow panoramic drive—long-form, patient, and built for people who like their rock to feel lived-in rather than rushed. Released as a standalone single in October 2021, it stretches past six minutes, giving the arrangement room to evolve in chapters instead of verses. The band is reported as originating from Tepeji del Río, Hidalgo, and the title itself reads like a corridor between places—two names that carry weight, memory, and distance. Musically, the track’s length is the message: it invites you to settle into repetition and subtle shifts, the way headlights carve the same road lines into your eyes until thought becomes rhythm. There is a very specific kind of Mexican alternative rock tradition that thrives on this—songs as journeys, guitars as weather, drums as the steady logic of forward motion. “México Querétaro” taps that feeling, letting atmosphere do the storytelling, suggesting that movement is sometimes the only way to process what you cannot explain while standing still. It’s the sound of motion with an aftertaste of reflection: not a postcard, but the whole route.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0RwfQdF2pt8tfRyLxDpSs7","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618432,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618432/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:04:10-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Multiverso","track_id":null,"recording_id":"4f04c444-4e73-4e20-a8f7-bf0b84928b33","artist":"Las Visiones","artist_ids":["5f7fe4f3-53cd-464a-95ca-22a2b858f18d"],"album":"Cruces de Neón","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"e587d7d3-a25d-4bc5-8549-f83f8e815875","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2022-12-02","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Multiverso” is a five-minute statement piece that treats rock as a kind of physics experiment: one riff, multiple realities, each turn of the groove opening a different door. The track was released in 2021 and appears as a standalone single across major platforms, which fits its self-contained feel—less “album chapter,” more “portal.” The title suggests parallel lives and overlapping timelines, and the music behaves accordingly: it keeps a steady forward movement while letting texture and mood shift around the pulse, like scenery changing outside the same moving train window. There’s also a live video documentation of “Multiverso” circulating online, reinforcing that this song’s power is in performance and endurance—how the band sustains tension without rushing to resolve it. With limited widely published band background in the sources surfaced here, the most honest biography is the sound itself: “Multiverso” is built for listeners who like their rock to feel immersive and slightly disorienting, the kind of track where you look up and realize the room got darker while you weren’t paying attention. It’s not escapism; it’s a controlled fall into possibility.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/7EYYtd7lbcVveTkzSbYUVe","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618431,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618431/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T21:00:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Otto","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Sei Still","artist_ids":["76397669-8a79-4bc6-b156-d8fb556d5eb1"],"album":"Radar Vol 1","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":"Sei Still’s “Otto” is a study in hypnotic insistence: motorik-leaning pulse, dark melodic minimalism, and a patient build that turns repetition into trance. The track is available across their catalog ecosystem and is widely associated with the band’s post-punk/psych spectrum, appearing in streaming listings as a key cut and showing up as a track title within their broader discography. On Bandcamp, Sei Still’s releases map a steady evolution—albums and sessions that keep returning to the same core idea: forward motion as atmosphere, tension as texture. “Otto” works because it doesn’t chase a dramatic payoff; it makes the present moment feel magnetic. The drums behave like a metronome for the nervous system, and the guitars/synth layers (depending on the version you encounter) feel like a dim hallway of reflections—each pass slightly different, each one pulling you deeper. In the lineage of post-punk that flirts with krautrock discipline, “Otto” is less about catharsis and more about surrender: you let the groove carry you, and somewhere along the way you notice your thoughts have rearranged themselves. It’s a night-drive song that doesn’t describe the night—it becomes it.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/6NfDAjWmXX6SQeB7kCEKXK","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618430,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618430/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T20:58:50-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","comment":"","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"airbreak"},{"id":3618429,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618429/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T20:53:20-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Carretera de la Muerte","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Vuelveteloca","artist_ids":["42031b27-41b2-4f2a-b926-e901dba4a936"],"album":"Metales Pesados","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-11-21","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Carretera de la Muerte” comes from Vuelveteloca’s 2025 album Metales Pesados, and it’s built like its title: a long stretch of road where speed feels thrilling and slightly fatal. The band frames the album as a blunt reflection of punk attitude and hyper-accelerated modern life—technology, constant connectivity, and the creeping sense of dehumanization—so “Carretera de la Muerte” lands less as horror fantasy and more as lived anxiety turned into volume. The track runs over five minutes, which matters: it gives the song room to escalate, to keep adding pressure, like headlights multiplying behind you. There’s a particular pleasure in punk that refuses to be tidy—riffs that scrape, drums that insist, moments where the groove locks in and you realize you’ve been clenching your jaw for a full minute. “Carretera de la Muerte” captures that sensation: adrenaline as coping mechanism, speed as the only honest language when the world won’t slow down. It’s music for driving too late, thinking too hard, and choosing motion anyway.\u2028Listen: https://vuelveteloca.bandcamp.com/album/metales-pesados","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}]}