Pirata La Mancha

Alcázar de San Juan doesn’t mess around. On September 6, the Castilla–La Mancha town turned its second-ever Pirata Festival into a full-blown riot of sweat, distortion, and beer-foamed camaraderie. Eight bands, zero filler—just a rolling wave of Spanish punk, metal, and political bite that didn’t ease up until long past midnight.

El Último Ke Zierre cracked the first match like a Molotov, their veteran punk anthems sparking instant pits and hoarse singalongs. Porretas kept it street-level and boozy, a love letter to Madrid’s bar-room punk that had the crowd lifting plastic cups to the smoky night sky.

By the time Koma unleashed their razor-edged grooves, the sun was gone and the temperature climbed with every riff. Envidia Kotxina proved why their social-charged hardcore still hits like a brick through a government window, while Sons of Aguirre & Scila detonated a hip-hop/metal hybrid that felt like Rage Against the Machine relocated to Iberia—politics loud, bass louder.

The back half of the lineup was pure chaos. Def Con Dos followed with industrial-strength rap-metal, spitting satire and grinding beats that rattled the festival fencing. Then came Lendakaris Muertos, who delivered their trademark Basque-speed absurdity, sprinting through songs like they were trying to break a stopwatch.

With Manolo Kabezabolo, Spain’s eternal punk jester, closing the night in a blaze of off-key singalongs and joyful nihilism that felt like a last call at the world’s rowdiest dive bar, Pirata La Mancha came to a close.

Pirata La Mancha’s sophomore year proved it’s no side-stage upstart—it’s a bona fide pilgrimage for anyone who thrives on Spanish punk’s grit and grin. If you missed it, sharpen your spikes and circle next September. This pirate ship is only getting louder.

Words and photos: Rhyan Paul