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Great pedal, blessed distortion

The calé shoegaze irreverence is back to being addictive. Apart from being undeniable masters of the noble art of distortion, Los Punsetes have always showed (and they still do) an impeccably coherent attitude. In the sonic indie-syncrasy of subversión there are very few bands [I was always sure about El columpio asesino and always loved them in these boundaries], the ones who try get stuck in posturing, but this band from Madrid simply have it in their DNA.



When one of your top bands nails it again it is hard not to surrender to passion, to defense, and certain subjectivity. Sometimes, good things come to those who wait, and the best things to those who wait even longer. In the absence of a welcome super surprise of Los planetas, we may be in the face of the best album of the year, a cult album already. As their label very aptly remarks, “they have a gift for delivering generational hymns, songs which stay in your memory leaving a immune, sarcastic smile, singing to human intelligence, to sensibility and to boldness.”

Una montaña es una montaña had set the bar very high, but if anyone could skid one more time and get it right again, it was them. Chema, their drummer, during an interview for Mondo sonoro gave us some clues, “we have worked with more different types of guitar and amps. We wanted a rougher sound.”

Very thorough, not one fissure, with a compact and elaborately despicable sound everywhere that is given to it. One thousand f***ing miles away from boredom and mediocrity, “with a gale of hits as their banner” (Miguel Díaz Herrero). In barely 37 minutes, the lineup of the 11 grand songs (there is not one overripe) completes an LP IV (2014) sublime and joyful, which you cannot stop listening to, dangerously tending to the infinite loop.

The first sound triumvirate is orgiastic: Amanece más temprano is an extra greased ram, another declaration of intent that will progressively be trashed until the final fireworks. The most forceful duo follows: Bonzo and Me gusta que me pegues, which are simply, from the very first listen, another two hymns to fatten the brilliant Punsete repertoire (great songs they had released in advance and which some of us had the privilege to savor during their magnum gig last January at El sol). The video clip of that second song is another wonder, from a song which, in the words of their front woman Ariadna, “is a private joke open to whatever each one wants to interpret.”

Its noisy sound, its lyrics and energies capture you and make you feel like being carried along and getting into hot water.

Arsenal de excusas is another treasure of exquisite lyrics, sharp and acid, ideal for being dedicated to an ex and to kick ass on the boards. Following the trail of the previous Falso documental and Tan lejos, tan cerca, they also go deeply into the theme of the sentimental-interpersonal relationships with a very fine vision that only the universe of the band can give us. Museo de historia natural and Los últimos días de Sodoma (gigantic, epic, example of all the virtues and ingredients of the information and which they also gave us in advance with El sol) keep the bar high with a message and grounds that, seasoned again by their skill between noise (noise caviar beluga) and melody, still have us hooked and waiting for future surprises.

Opinión de mierda deserves a paragraph aside. They acknowledge that “it goes a Little against the universal everything, unbearable.” A grand, glorious song that reminds me of the daily nature of the mass media, uncloakers of hicks and the rest of the crappy newspapers, tertullians without an education and even less shame. The great band from the capital humiliates once again a part of the depths of Spain by means of simple lyrics but putting them to the sword, without sentimentalities and brutally effective. A necessary moral guillotine and very funny.

The punk pseudo-ballad Vaya suerte que tengo is an interregnum mistery of magical phases which nails the story again, and its way of telling it, hinge and threshold of the irreversible and extremely attractive next/final savage deed.

Everything before this could not have been more warmly welcome. Those of us who follow them since at least a couple of years ago [what a pity I did not discover them earlier] have been more than satisfied. Only they could keep outdoing themselves and they have done so with our expectations. But there is still a monstrous hit left, an analogical cut that will arise as one of the best songs of this whole legendary year of music loving. The final piece: as A mil años luz (2011) and El malestar continúa (2013), Nit d l'Albà stands out as the most energetic, vigorous and beautifully derailed tune of the whole musical course, a super hit, instantaneous super hymn-song, so solemn and eternal that the best thing is to let yourself be captivated without opposition and enjoy it as one of the best melomaniac orgasms of a whole generation and immortal alternative period (one more).

The controversy exists for whoever wants it. The quintet is very sure, “there are many people willing to feel offended by anything,” and Chema goes legitimately further, “the nonsense is unfathomable [,] it does not know about limits”.

They, Fred Kevorkian’s mastering, Brian Hernández’s mix and Pablo Díaz-Reixa’s (El Guincho) production have rowed to end up at the same place: a tremendous and capital album full of treasures, beyond tempting, which consolidates the invoiced band even more to enjoy themselves live onstage and congratulate you with every listen.