{"next":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=json&limit=20&offset=30740&ordering=-airdate","previous":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/?format=json&limit=20&offset=30700&ordering=-airdate","results":[{"id":3618411,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618411/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T20:04:19-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Esclavo y Amo","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Los Pasteles Verdes","artist_ids":["76e18f18-3dda-4911-9a00-e11906e7fa4b"],"album":"Vol 2","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"1973-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Esclavo y Amo” is one of the most beloved songs in the catalog of Los Pasteles Verdes, the influential Latin pop and romantic ballad group hailing from Chimbote, Peru, formed in the early 1970s. The song itself is a cover of the classic Esclavo y amo, a composition by Mexican songwriter José Vaca Flores originally popularized in 1962 by ranchera legend Javier Solís. What Los Pasteles Verdes did in their 1975 version was reinterpret the track through the lens of 1970s Latin romantic pop and psychedelic balladry — replacing mariachi instrumentation with lush electric guitars, warm keyboards, and a slow, immersive groove that became a hallmark of their style.\n\nThis rendition became a huge hit for the group and helped cement their reputation across Latin America and Mexico, climbing charts and becoming one of their signature songs. Across its poetic lyrics — detailing the paradox of being both slave and master to love and desire — and its sweeping, emotional performance, “Esclavo y Amo” stands as a defining moment in the balada romántica tradition. Los Pasteles Verdes’ influence extends far beyond their peak decades, with this song cited by contemporary artists and producers tracing back to its evocative fusion of sentiment and style.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/4dY46Zfk6Wx63Xyh7Sbr8X","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618410,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618410/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T20:01:41-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Hazme una Señal","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Thee Almighty Majestics","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":"“Hazme una Señal” is presented as a recent single release, and even at a compact runtime it’s built like a complete scene: a romantic spark rendered in bright, immediate strokes. The title—“give me a sign”—sets up the emotional stakes instantly: uncertainty, desire, the aching comedy of waiting for proof that the feeling is mutual. The band’s broader presentation leans into a classicist pop-soul and guitar-band vocabulary (their official materials foreground melodic, cover-savvy craftsmanship alongside originals), which helps explain the song’s directness. This isn’t cryptic art-rock; it’s a clean shot of feeling, delivered with the confidence of a group that understands the value of a hook and the pleasure of recognition. “Hazme una Señal” works because it doesn’t over-explain—its job is to create a moment you can step into. There’s an old truth in that approach: longing becomes communal when it’s singable. The track leaves you with the sensation of looking across a crowded room and catching the smallest gesture—a glance, a nod, a half-smile—and suddenly the entire night has a plot.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/album/1QHEKQaaKUtz4H8eQ3MD6p","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618409,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618409/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T20:00:50-08:00","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":3618408,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618408/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:58:10-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Twist Del Elefante","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"The Cavernarios","artist_ids":["1906841d-69b5-4ae4-9f62-c40a4a0ec516"],"album":"Sangre en el Atlantico","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":"The Cavernarios come from the north of Mexico City and describe their sound in proudly primal terms: surf and garage played by “cavernícolas,” raw and reverbed, loud with feedback and “wild screams,” writing about the street, girls, and whatever happens after a night of rock in the neighborhood. “Twist Del Elefante” lives up to that manifesto. It’s short, physical, and cartoon-dangerous in the best way—surf guitar lines that swagger and jab, rhythm pushing like it’s trying to knock dust off the ceiling, all geared toward motion rather than polish. The title suggests a dance you don’t learn so much as surrender to, and the performance feels like that: a stomp with a grin, party music with teeth. The Cavernarios’ appeal is that they keep the classic rock’n’roll spell intact—reverb as atmosphere, repetition as hypnosis—while leaning into a distinctly local, lived-in identity. Even when you don’t catch every lyric or reference, the emotion is legible: chaos as celebration, distortion as confetti. “Twist Del Elefante” is the kind of track that makes a room feel smaller and better—everyone closer, everyone louder, everyone briefly convinced they can out-dance gravity.\u2028Listen: https://thecavernarios.bandcamp.com/album/sangre-en-el-atl-ntico","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618407,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618407/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:55:22-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Vaquero","track_id":null,"recording_id":"3250d979-7583-4285-97d1-fe3f20c84608","artist":"Los Elásticos","artist_ids":["4bb045f2-807d-4e8e-a56a-2a2c4a408326"],"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":"Los Elásticos are widely associated with Mexico’s surf-instrumental movement of the 2000s, a scene that braided reverbed guitars with punk energy and a strong visual identity—especially lucha libre masks—often centered around venues like Multiforo Alicia. “Vaquero” carries that sensibility into something darker and more narrative, with the track’s lyric fragments reading like a surreal rite-of-passage vignette—spare lines that hint at tenderness, menace, and initiation, all while the music drives forward. The broader cultural mash-up matters: scholarship on the scene specifically notes Los Elásticos’ direct connection to lucha libre history (including the guitarist’s family tie to professional wrestling), which helps explain why their music often feels like soundtrack work for a mythic, masked city at night. Surf, here, isn’t beach music—it’s momentum, spectacle, a reverb-drenched engine that can carry humor and threat in the same breath. “Vaquero” plays into that ambiguity: the title evokes western archetypes, but the feeling is urban and haunted, like a cowboy film spliced with basement-show chaos. It’s a reminder that instrumental-forward rock can still tell stories—sometimes sharper ones because it leaves space for your imagination to do the seeing.\u2028Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVa_wJV_Ys0","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618406,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618406/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:53:22-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Fuera ropa","track_id":null,"recording_id":"8579b72a-f352-447e-afb2-19200139ba5b","artist":"Sr. Bikini","artist_ids":["c1c28f85-c506-4e1c-a869-65145802f562"],"album":"Surf extremo","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"76b5c831-9653-3580-a2ac-81be37fee09e","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2000-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Fuera Ropa” (noted as a recent single release on major platforms) lands with a punchy, celebration-forward energy—fast enough to feel like a dare, catchy enough to feel like a chant. The version circulating as “Fuera Ropa: 25 años” reads like an anniversary reframing rather than a brand-new introduction, and the genre tags attached to uploads lean ska, which fits the song’s spring-loaded momentum and bright rhythmic emphasis. What matters most here is the physicality: the track is built to get out of your head and into your shoulders, with the kind of rhythmic snap that makes a room feel instantly more crowded. Even without leaning on a dense backstory, the title suggests a playful provocation—strip away the costume, drop the pretense, go straight to the pulse. The arrangement keeps that idea moving: compact, direct, and designed for replay rather than contemplation. “Fuera Ropa” works like a switch—one click and the lights are different, the night is different, and whatever you were carrying five minutes ago suddenly feels optional.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/track/125NMuXzcnuuAIsU8CnUQp","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618405,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618405/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:51:46-08:00","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":3618404,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618404/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:47:31-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Para Maria Daniela","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"SOLTERA","artist_ids":["4209b32f-a9df-4c58-b945-7d05a6a69bd5"],"album":"Para Maria Daniela","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":"“Para Maria Daniela” reads like a love letter written in strobe light—part tribute, part time machine, part dance-floor confession. It was released as a standalone single in 2021, and even the title makes its intent explicit: this track is directed outward, toward an icon and an era, not inward toward diary realism. Soltera’s approach here is to take the emotional shorthand of early-2000s Mexican electropop and reframe it through a modern club lens, where devotion becomes rhythm and nostalgia becomes propulsion. The song’s length gives it room to breathe past a quick gimmick; it builds a steady pulse and lets the melody glide over it, like a note passed across decades. The magic is in how it treats admiration as something physical: not “remember when,” but “move with me now.” You can hear the affection in the way it refuses cynicism—this isn’t parody, it’s lineage. “Para Maria Daniela” turns fandom into a small ceremony, the kind you perform with friends at midnight when the DJ drops something that makes you feel seen, younger, and strangely brave.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/6n6pjNn9es74BZa61KJpFu","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618403,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618403/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:44:16-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Triángulo de Amor Bizarro","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Triángulo de Amor Bizarro","artist_ids":["c99d1db4-d5ab-4795-a7f5-42ebba5fd0bc"],"album":"Triángulo de amor bizarro","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"fb82b3e1-05ed-342a-a8a0-2886d05ed3ef","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":null,"rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Triángulo de Amor Bizarro” is the newly released cover by the Galician post-punk/indie powerhouse Triángulo de Amor Bizarro, rendered from the iconic New Order classic Bizarre Love Triangle — the very song that inspired the band’s name in 2004.\n\nOriginally released in 1986 by New Order as a defining synth-pop anthem of the ’80s, Bizarre Love Triangle helped cement the band’s reputation for melding emotional depth with infectious electronic hooks. For over two decades, it stood as a touchstone for many artists — including Triángulo de Amor Bizarro, who organically grew around their love for this track.\n\nTheir 2025 rendition stays surprisingly faithful to the original’s structure and spirit, retaining the essential melodies and chorus while translating the lyrics into Spanish. Yet where New Order’s version sparkles with ’80s synth clarity, TAB’s take introduces layers of abrasive textures and indie grit, with sharp guitar lines and contemporary production giving the classic a fresh, raw edge. The result bridges Manchester’s synth tradition with the band’s own noise-infused post-punk ethos — a tribute that feels both respectful and distinctly their own.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/6htsTBDfSmp3Example","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618402,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618402/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:42:52-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"ELECTRA","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"SEXES","artist_ids":[],"album":"ELECTRA","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":"“ELECTRA” is a fresh 2026 single by SEXES, released February 4, 2026, and presented as pop with a pulse that’s meant to move rather than brood. The title evokes electric mythology—charge, seduction, danger, a name that feels like a spark—and the track leans into that implication: momentum first, meaning embedded in the way the beat insists. With limited widely published background in the surfaced sources beyond platform listings and the band’s own release messaging, the safest reading is the one the song itself offers: a “dance until the end and start again” ethos, built like a loop you willingly surrender to. “ELECTRA” feels like the moment you stop negotiating with the night. It’s glossy enough to feel modern, but the emotional texture is classic: transformation through motion, catharsis through repetition, the promise that if you keep dancing you can outrun the version of yourself you’re trying to leave behind. The name “ELECTRA” becomes less a character and more a state—charged, luminous, a little reckless, alive.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/4zygxKdCh70WlQQEupydxk","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618401,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618401/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:40:40-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Perros","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Brujas del Bim Bam Bum","artist_ids":[],"album":"Perros","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2024-01-09","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Perros” is one of the key early singles from Brujas del Bim Bam Bum, released in January 2024, with official video material that emphasizes mood, imagery, and a lyric-forward presence. The chorus-like line “mis ojos como dos perros” (“my eyes like two dogs”) is a perfect piece of surreal intimacy—watchfulness as hunger, devotion as obsession, the gaze as an animal that refuses to sleep. There’s something paranormal in the band’s own framing (“música paranormal”), and “Perros” delivers that vibe: nocturnal and magnetic, like a dream you remember as texture more than plot. The arrangement sits in that liminal space where pop structure meets shadow, where a groove can feel like a ritual if the atmosphere is dense enough. “Perros” works because it turns a simple metaphor into a whole emotional weather system: the night opened up by eyes that won’t stop searching, the heart waiting for an “amo” (a master, a command, a sign) while the body keeps moving. It’s a song that stares back—tender, unsettling, and strangely danceable.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0VdW1L4VupnHIAibBITHVM","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618400,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618400/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:36:32-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/454a6893-99c7-410c-b8da-baf46e8ea4f3/41544613778-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/454a6893-99c7-410c-b8da-baf46e8ea4f3/41544613778-250.jpg","song":"EL CILANTRO","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Gloory Hole","artist_ids":["90c9e56f-3e8f-4a4b-9ad4-5338fb0b2db3"],"album":"","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2024-02-23","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Gloory Hole’s “EL CILANTRO” comes from a world where poetry and abrasion share the same microphone—part of a 2024 album whose framing has been described in interviews as “fragments of poetry, shouts and dance music,” tied to themes of pain, daily life, and the struggle to heal. The title is beautifully specific: cilantro, the herb that divides households—some people taste brightness, others taste soap—making it a perfect symbol for how the same experience can register as comfort or disgust depending on the body you live in. The track’s lyric setup (a mother sending someone to the store) adds a domestic realism that can tilt, suddenly, into something stranger, as if everyday errands hide portals. That’s the band’s strength: making ordinary scenes feel charged, then letting the music swing between rawness and movement—screams beside rhythm, confession beside groove. “EL CILANTRO” feels like memory told in snapshots: childhood instruction, city noise, sensory detail, the way a smell can reopen a whole year. It’s messy and human, and it insists that even the smallest objects can carry enormous emotional weight.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/3Qd0hVbAnZLGZXimVwvAJm","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618399,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618399/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:33:39-08:00","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":3618398,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618398/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:30:10-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/d3cf945d-afcb-4cb4-affb-b78a4ba5f385/22169419423-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/d3cf945d-afcb-4cb4-affb-b78a4ba5f385/22169419423-250.jpg","song":"Chicle de menta","track_id":null,"recording_id":"453aa0bc-292d-47d2-9571-1c63e81a2ce9","artist":"María Daniela y su Sonido Lasser","artist_ids":["1425af32-a2b8-465f-8185-5ba68d1226d9"],"album":"María Daniela y su sonido lasser","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"cd053f37-8689-3cf6-9ed1-af798853685c","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2005-01-01","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"“Chicle de Menta” is one of the defining early cuts in the María Daniela y su Sonido Lasser orbit: bright electropop that sounds like candy-coated confidence hiding a sharp edge. The song originally circulated in the mid-2000s as part of the duo’s first wave (it has been widely referenced as an early single tied to their debut era), and it keeps returning in new uploads and reissues because the hook still lands with that immediate, fluorescent punch. The lyric framing is classic pop sting—someone played you, the relationship status is messy, and power flips back and forth in real time—delivered with a playful tone that makes the bitterness danceable instead of heavy. What makes it endure is the production personality: glossy synth lines that feel like sticker art, drum programming that bounces rather than thuds, and a chorus that behaves like a chant you can shout while laughing at your own bad decisions. In the larger Mexican indie/electro canon, it sits near that Nuevos Ricos generation where irony and tenderness share the same glitter. “Chicle de Menta” tastes sweet, then lingers—like you’re chewing on a memory you pretend doesn’t matter, until it does.\u2028Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLhdz1yF7OY","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618397,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618397/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:27:20-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"No Coke","track_id":null,"recording_id":"3d026c3c-625d-4d9f-8e37-3a115501c1b4","artist":"Quiero Club","artist_ids":["907988a3-89e5-4e39-8cae-73aa65c87c37"],"album":"WOF","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"26cf2b82-2781-33f9-845a-b296db0871a0","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2008-03-16","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"2004 Original\u2028“No Coke (2004 Original)” is a foundational artifact of Mexican indie’s early-2000s boom: a catchy, Spanglish-leaning electropop/indie-rock hybrid that first circulated in 2004 and later received a studio “polish” before anchoring Quiero Club’s debut album WOF. Quiero Club emerged from Monterrey’s Happy-Fi orbit and quickly became one of the most representative bands of the region’s independent movement, blending guitars, keys, and pop instincts with dance-floor logic—music that could live on alt radio and in crowded rooms at the same time. The “2004 Original” tag matters because you can hear the pre-fame electricity in the concept: a hook built to travel, a rhythm that feels like momentum itself, and a lyrical posture that captures the era’s contradictions—cool, anxious, playful, self-aware. “No Coke” still hits because it’s both specific and open-ended: a phrase that reads like a rule, a joke, a warning, and a dare, depending on who’s listening. It’s the sound of a scene finding its voice in real time—bright edges, nervous energy, and the unmistakable thrill of something new catching fire.\u2028Listen: https://quieroclub.bandcamp.com/track/no-coke-2","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618396,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618396/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:25:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Sola","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"DENNA LA PORRI","artist_ids":[],"album":"Sola","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":"“Sola” lands as a recent single credited to DENNA LA PORRI with Moodjaas, arriving in February 2026 and clocking in under two and a half minutes—brief, direct, and emotionally frontal. With limited widely published background available in the sources surfaced here, the track itself becomes the biography: the title (“Alone”) sets the frame, and the pacing suggests a kind of brave compression—saying what needs to be said before the voice shakes. The presence of a collaborator hints at a shared language, a duet of perspectives even when the theme is solitude. Short songs like this often behave like a text you send and immediately regret because it’s too honest—no time for metaphor to soften the blow, no long intro to negotiate your courage. “Sola” feels built for that exact moment: the beat and melody acting as a thin armor, the hook turning a private admission into something you can repeat until it stops hurting. The song’s power is in its refusal to over-explain; it trusts the word “sola” to carry all the rooms it echoes in.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/album/1R9bScq7ygXuJDEbBvBaBv","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618395,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618395/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:22:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Veo Veo","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"Sayuri & Sopholov","artist_ids":["7786584f-13de-4d13-b177-a90244e2bc03"],"album":"Veo Veo","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-10-06","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Sayuri & Sopholov are part of the new surge of reggaetón mexa—streetwise, internet-native, and unapologetically local—often described as a duo from Cuautitlán Izcalli in the Estado de México. “Veo Veo,” released in October 2025 with production credit tied to Fuentes Prod and distributed via Sony Music Entertainment México, arrives as a compact, high-gloss snapshot: short, bright, and designed to hit fast. The title plays like a game—“I spy”—and the song carries that energy: flirtation as pursuit, the beat as a flashlight sweeping across the room. Their rise has been closely linked to viral momentum and a strong social presence, but what matters in the track itself is the economy: every second is arranged to keep the body moving, with vocal phrasing that snaps into place like a chant you learn on the first listen. “Veo Veo” feels like a message typed too quickly because the moment is already happening—heels on pavement, bass in the chest, a glance that turns into a dare. It’s playful, but the precision is serious.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/2eR46kcYzdZtFN3Q1NkNcK","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618394,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618394/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:19:09-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Sueños y Vicios","track_id":null,"recording_id":null,"artist":"SOLTERA","artist_ids":["4209b32f-a9df-4c58-b945-7d05a6a69bd5"],"album":"Sueños y Vicios","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2025-10-09","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Soltera’s “Sueños y Vicios” is a collaborative, cross-scene cut: released in October 2025, featuring vocals by Soltera and Meth Math with production by Sonido Sex, and issued via the indie label dottidot. One write-up describes Soltera as Colombian-American, which fits the song’s wider feeling—diaspora pop that’s comfortable blending intimacy with the synthetic sheen of late-night electronics. The title (“Dreams and Vices”) is the emotional palette: desire and consequence, fantasy and habit, the way you can crave two opposite things at once. Meth Math’s presence adds a distinctive modern Mexican experimental-pop current, while Sonido Sex’s production keeps everything sharp and kinetic, like neon reflecting off wet pavement. The track moves with the logic of the club, but it’s not empty hedonism—it’s the club as a place where you process the day’s bruises in public, anonymously, through movement. “Sueños y Vicios” feels like a whispered admission hidden inside a banger: the body dancing while the mind keeps inventory of what it misses, what it wants, and what it cannot stop wanting.\u2028Listen: https://soltera.bandcamp.com/track/suen-os-y-vicios","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"},{"id":3618393,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618393/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:15:34-08:00","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":3618392,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3618392/?format=json","airdate":"2026-02-16T19:11:00-08:00","show":65953,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65953/?format=json","image_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/8113441b-9e0b-4935-9a90-f8b80d262856/8593379943-500.jpg","thumbnail_uri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/8113441b-9e0b-4935-9a90-f8b80d262856/8593379943-250.jpg","song":"Jardines","track_id":null,"recording_id":"5f374999-528b-4bdb-9860-0f3418823126","artist":"Chancha Vía Circuito feat. Lido Pimienta","artist_ids":["22c82e36-c32c-4206-8a49-6d350cce992f","9fb537ca-9145-4855-8a18-17b20339f1fc"],"album":"Amansará","release_id":null,"release_group_id":"52b6bfe1-462b-4534-bbfb-b24841e06325","labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2014-09-23","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Chancha Vía Circuito is the long-running project of Buenos Aires producer Pedro Canale, central to the wave of “digital cumbia” and the broader ecosystem of Latin American electronic music that treats folklore as living circuitry. “Jardines” is one of his clearest spells: hand percussion and soft-edged synths circle each other like fireflies, while the rhythm breathes in slow spirals rather than marching in straight lines. The featured vocal (Lido Pimienta) gives the song a devotional warmth, and the lyric imagery—seed, sunlight, tenderness, persistence—frames the groove as something cultivated, not consumed. That’s a key to Chancha’s appeal: even when the beat leans club-ready, it’s built to feel communal and grounded, closer to a courtyard gathering than a strobe-lit peak. KCRW once summed up his lineage as emerging from digital cumbia while weaving regional rhythms beyond any single map. “Jardines” is exactly that: roots in motion, an electronic lullaby that still knows how to dance.\u2028Listen: https://chanchaviacircuitomusic.bandcamp.com/track/jardines-ft-lido-pimenta","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}]}