Lendakaris Muertos

Madrid, brace yourself. On December 27th, 2025, the feral Navarrese punk commandos known as Lendakaris Muertoswill storm La Riviera one final time before vanishing into that dreaded rock-and-roll purgatorio they’re calling an “indefinite hiatus.” A polite way of saying we’re off to blow up the world elsewhere.

This isn’t just another gig. This is the last stand, the final rally of a band that’s spent two decades spitting gasoline on Spain’s political bonfire and then lighting the match with a grin. Lendakaris don’t just play punk — they weaponise it, hurling sarcasm, speed and a blasphemous sense of humour directly at the nation’s temples of hypocrisy.

Aitor Ibarretxe — that whirlwind of throat-shredding fury and baffling cardio endurance — leads his troops into La Riviera as part of their XXI Anniversary Tour, though “anniversary” feels too civilised a word. Think less “silver jubilee,” more “riot in a fireworks factory.” And with the band’s looming disappearance, the whole thing suddenly feels like a wake where the corpse keeps jumping off the table to yell “Gora España!” just to upset the relatives.

Fans are already treating this Madrid show like the last chopper out of Saigon. This is the final guaranteed chance to scream “Oso Panda,” “ETA dale al botón,” and all those gloriously unhinged micro-anthems that made Lendakaris the unofficial national therapy for anyone allergic to bullshit. And there are many.

Because their legacy — beyond the breakneck riffs and the lyrical Molotov cocktails — is simple: they made punk fun again. Dangerous again. Stupid, brilliant, necessary again. They turned the country’s political migraines into two-minute bursts of joyous chaos, proving you can critique the entire sociopolitical apparatus while laughing so hard you choke on your own cerveza.

So on December 27th, La Riviera won’t host a concert — it’ll host a canonisation. A ritual. A glorious, sweaty, pogo-pit baptism marking the end of an era nobody was ready to lose. Tickets are being hunted down like black-market relics, because nobody wants to wake up the next day realising they missed the final blast from the loudest, rudest conscience Spain ever produced.

If this is goodbye, it’ll be delivered with boots, distortion, and the pure distilled stupidity/genius that only Lendakaris Muertos can conjure. After that? Silence. Or maybe the world ending. Hard to tell with these guys.

Either way — be there when the detonator clicks.

You can read our interview with Aitor here: Aitor Ibarretxe

And find out more about the band here: Lendakaris Muertos