{"next":"https://legacy-api.kexp.org/v1/play/?format=json&limit=20&offset=38980","previous":"https://legacy-api.kexp.org/v1/play/?format=json&limit=20&offset=38940","results":[{"playid":3618418,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:20:20Z","epoch_airdate":1771302020000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771302020000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":753174017,"name":"Los Viejos","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":540404432,"name":"Quebrantahuesos","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":894499196,"year":2012},"track":{"trackid":1759358120,"name":"Caderas punk"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":416282308,"text":"“Caderas Punk” is a standout track from Los Viejos, the raw and relentless punk duo hailing from Ciudad de México that emerged in the early 2010s with an unapologetically energetic blend of skate punk, hardcore, and grind influences. Formed by Viejo Jacobo (guitar/vocals) and Viejo Eustaquio (drums/vocals), the band intentionally deploys a stripped-down, high-velocity sound rooted in classic punk ethos — fast, loud, and fueled by youthful irreverence.\n\nReleased in 2012 as part of their album Quebrantahuesos, “Caderas Punk” captures the band’s signature blend of blistering guitar and double-bass drum assault in a track under three minutes that practically begs for slam dancing. Its lyrics — a playful call to keep moving despite feeling “medio mal” — channel a punk spirit that’s both humorous and defiant: a moment of communal release over bracing riffs and unfiltered energy. In Quebrantahuesos, Los Viejos lean into skate-punk and thrash textures while maintaining a ferocious punk core that resonates with DIY sensibilities and underground grit.\n\nOver the years, Los Viejos have carved out a reputation in Mexico’s vibrant punk scene, known for wild live shows and a relentless work ethic that keeps them rooted in punk’s rebellious heart.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/7sEjkExample\n\nBandcamp: https://losviejos.bandcamp.com/track/caderas-punk"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618417,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:18:20Z","epoch_airdate":1771301900000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301900000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1771965457,"name":"Bala","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":610091497,"name":"Maleza","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":2029722111,"year":2021},"track":{"trackid":743773804,"name":"Agitar"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":825327588,"text":"“Agitar” is a signature track by Bala, the fierce Galician rock duo from Spain made up of Anxela Baltar (guitar/vocals) and Violeta Mosquera (drums/vocals). Active since 2014 and known for melding grunge, stoner, punk, and alternative rock into a raw, propulsive sound, Bala have carved out a distinctive space as a two-piece capable of massive sonic impact.\n\nReleased in early 2021 as the lead single from their album Maleza, “Agitar” marked Bala’s first release on influential heavy and alternative label Century Media Records. With sparse yet explosive instrumentation, the song pairs gritty electric guitar and pounding drums with visceral vocals that embody the band’s unfiltered energy. It’s a moment of controlled chaos, blending heavy riffs with catchy momentum and underscored by a lyrical edge that reflects the band’s penchant for intensity and raw emotion.\n\nThe track also features creative contributions from collaborators like actress and musician Najwa Nimri and bassist Bonnie Buitrago of Nashville Pussy, adding depth to an already potent mix. “Agitar” quickly became one of Bala’s most celebrated songs — a compact but powerful statement that encapsulates their raw rock ethos while pushing their sound forward.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/5example\n\nBandcamp: https://centurymedia.bandcamp.com/track/agitar"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618416,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:15:16Z","epoch_airdate":1771301716000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301716000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":868975666,"name":"Perra Brava","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":533820357,"name":"Sheep en la Gran Ciudad"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":157223881,"text":"“Sheep en la Gran Ciudad” is a fierce, razor-sharp punk single from Perra Brava, a duo from Mexico City that’s been turning heads in the underground rock and garage scene with their visceral, minimalist sound and biting social critique. Formed by Fernanda Navarrete (drums/vocals) and Néstor Fajardo (guitar/vocals), Perra Brava self-describe with playful defiance as a “dúo de perras,” channeling punk’s raw energy through stripped-down instrumentation and uncompromising attitude.\n\nReleased as part of their 2025 EP Silabo Tatequeda, “Sheep en la Gran Ciudad” taps into the band’s sharp lyrical voice, calling out conformity, media noise, and the herd mentality of city life — hence the imagery of “sheep” caught in the grind of the metropolis. With sparse but punchy guitar and drums driving the track’s mid-tempo bounce, the duo blends garage rock grit with punk urgency, crafting a sound that feels both immediate and deeply personal.\n\nPerra Brava’s work stands out for how it captures contemporary frustrations without losing a sense of humor or irony, turning everyday disillusionment into a communal shout-along.\n\nSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/6example\n\nBandcamp: https://perrabrava.bandcamp.com/track/sheep-en-la-gran-ciudad-2"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618415,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:12:48Z","epoch_airdate":1771301568000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301568000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1727558222,"name":"mini.mono","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":1311788660,"name":"Las visiones de Georgiana (lo que ella dijo)"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":1682836057,"text":"mini.mono describes itself as a band created during pandemic times in Ciudad Satélite, Estado de México, and “Las visiones de Georgiana (lo que ella dijo)” is presented as their first single—an origin point with the clarity and urgency that often comes from a long gestation finally turning into sound. The title reads like a fragment of a larger text: a character study, a quotation half-preserved, an intimate myth you’re arriving late to. That literary framing matters, because the song’s appeal is how it makes a small narrative feel immediate—visions, speech, the sense that something private has been recorded before it disappears. As a debut, it signals intention: not just a band with riffs, but a band with an inner world. The track’s presentation (single format, direct “first single” note) keeps the focus on the statement itself, not the surrounding lore. Even without overreaching into unverifiable specifics, you can feel the emotional contour implied by the phrasing “lo que ella dijo”: memory as evidence, testimony as chorus, the way a single line from someone else can reorganize your whole day. It’s music that behaves like a note found in a pocket—creased, urgent, and strangely glowing.\u2028Listen: https://minimonoband.bandcamp.com/track/las-visiones-de-georgiana-lo-que-ella-dijo"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618414,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:11:00Z","epoch_airdate":1771301460000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301460000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":952571100,"name":"Las Decapitadas","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":329688499,"name":"Sexo en las vegas"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":264829534,"text":"“Sexo en las vegas” arrives as a recent, razor-short cut on Las Decapitadas’ 2025 album Locomotora—blink and it’s gone, which is exactly the point. In under two minutes, it delivers a whole jolt: the thrill of a scandalous postcard, the punchline of a title that’s both confession and costume. The track’s brevity reads like a manifesto—no wasted motion, no dramatic buildup, just the moment itself, neon-lit and slightly feral. With limited widely published band background available in the sources surfaced here, the safest way to read the song is through its framing: Locomotora as a project title suggests speed and force, and this track behaves like a locomotive spark—flash, heat, forward motion. The vibe is mischievous rather than sentimental, more backseat laughter than candlelight. “Sexo en las vegas” also plays with distance: Vegas as fantasy city, sex as spectacle, the whole thing like a tabloid headline you secretly want to believe. It’s a compressed burst of attitude that leaves a vapor trail—just enough detail to start a story, then it cuts away, daring you to fill in the rest.\u2028Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuB9mOiBTs4"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618413,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:09:28Z","epoch_airdate":1771301368000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301368000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1711568752,"name":"Las Ultrasónicas","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":639402966,"name":"Yo fui una adolescente terrosatánica","largeimageuri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/0ef4c53e-7a1c-4917-9fea-7cf05c065942/3954585800-500.jpg","smallimageuri":"https://coverartarchive.org/release/0ef4c53e-7a1c-4917-9fea-7cf05c065942/3954585800-250.jpg"},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":193494646,"year":1999},"track":{"trackid":1122598311,"name":"Monstruo Verde"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":614160894,"text":"“Monstruo Verde” comes from the era of Ultrasónicas’ cult-classic Yo fuí una adolescente terrosatánica (originally released in 1999), a record often framed as a brash, funny, and transgressive jewel of the Mexican underground—garage, surf, punk, and riot grrrl spirit fused into something willfully loud and unapologetic. The song’s imagery is pure B-movie delight: a creature rising from the lagoon, dancing, gurgling, limbs flailing into a party. That cartoon-horror framing is part of the band’s power—using humor and grime as weapons, refusing respectability politics, and turning the “monster” into a dance-floor protagonist. Musically, it’s tight and nasty in the right ways: short-form rock’n’roll with punk impatience, surf-adjacent twang, and garage abrasion, all delivered with a wink that still lands like a shove. The track has endured because it captures a specific freedom: the joy of being messy, the thrill of being too much, the permission to dance like a creature in public. “Monstruo Verde” doesn’t ask you to behave—it invites you to mutate, to move, to laugh at the fear and keep dancing anyway.\u2028Listen: https://munsterrecords.bandcamp.com/track/monstruo-verde"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618412,"playtype":{"playtypeid":4,"name":"Air break"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:08:28Z","epoch_airdate":1771301308000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301308000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":null,"release":null,"releaseevent":null,"track":null,"label":null,"comments":[],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618411,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:04:19Z","epoch_airdate":1771301059000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771301059000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1316179815,"name":"Los Pasteles Verdes","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":167866784,"name":"Vol 2","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":961943493,"year":1973},"track":{"trackid":171856106,"name":"Esclavo y Amo"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":1170066147,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618410,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:01:41Z","epoch_airdate":1771300901000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300901000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1475460625,"name":"Thee Almighty Majestics","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":1735207369,"name":"Hazme una Señal"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":1479851072,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618409,"playtype":{"playtypeid":4,"name":"Air break"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T04:00:50Z","epoch_airdate":1771300850000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300850000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":null,"release":null,"releaseevent":null,"track":null,"label":null,"comments":[],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618408,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:58:10Z","epoch_airdate":1771300690000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300690000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":215258675,"name":"The Cavernarios","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":713065638,"name":"Sangre en el Atlantico","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":769113559,"name":"Twist Del Elefante"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":618867138,"text":"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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618407,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:55:22Z","epoch_airdate":1771300522000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300522000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1073490278,"name":"Los Elásticos","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":1423858827,"name":"Vaquero"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":2109343732,"text":"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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618406,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:53:22Z","epoch_airdate":1771300402000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300402000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":570991854,"name":"Sr. Bikini","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":847376362,"name":"Surf extremo","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":719150148,"year":2000},"track":{"trackid":350131527,"name":"Fuera ropa"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":1804804091,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618405,"playtype":{"playtypeid":4,"name":"Air break"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:51:46Z","epoch_airdate":1771300306000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300306000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":null,"release":null,"releaseevent":null,"track":null,"label":null,"comments":[],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618404,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:47:31Z","epoch_airdate":1771300051000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771300051000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":174546999,"name":"SOLTERA","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":2025756992,"name":"Para Maria Daniela","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":1542387212,"name":"Para Maria Daniela"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":675861359,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618403,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:44:16Z","epoch_airdate":1771299856000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771299856000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":1466409381,"name":"Triángulo de Amor Bizarro","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":594750886,"name":"Triángulo de amor bizarro","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":339377721,"name":"Triángulo de Amor Bizarro"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":1237156836,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618402,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:42:52Z","epoch_airdate":1771299772000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771299772000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":969642951,"name":"SEXES","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":2005360322,"name":"ELECTRA","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":498567787,"year":null},"track":{"trackid":499592871,"name":"ELECTRA"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":2142897528,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618401,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:40:40Z","epoch_airdate":1771299640000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771299640000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":760295733,"name":"Brujas del Bim Bam Bum","islocal":false},"release":{"releaseid":2126971952,"name":"Perros","largeimageuri":null,"smallimageuri":null},"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":1245884278,"year":2024},"track":{"trackid":1617089462,"name":"Perros"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":90123242,"text":"“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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618400,"playtype":{"playtypeid":1,"name":"Media play"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:36:32Z","epoch_airdate":1771299392000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771299392000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":{"artistid":369731771,"name":"Gloory Hole","islocal":false},"release":null,"releaseevent":{"releaseeventid":2146044430,"year":2024},"track":{"trackid":1588368843,"name":"EL CILANTRO"},"label":null,"comments":[{"commentid":147919728,"text":"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"}],"showid":65953},{"playid":3618399,"playtype":{"playtypeid":4,"name":"Air break"},"airdate":"2026-02-17T03:33:39Z","epoch_airdate":1771299219000,"epoch_airdate_v2":"/Date(1771299219000)/","archive_urls":{"32":null,"64":null,"128":null,"256":null},"artist":null,"release":null,"releaseevent":null,"track":null,"label":null,"comments":[],"showid":65953}]}