Some concerts are about volume, spectacle and leaving your ears ringing. Others get under your skin, find a quiet corner of your soul and refuse to leave. At Roig Arena in Valencia, Jorge Drexler delivered a two-hour masterclass in the beautiful art of making thousands of people feel as though he were singing directly to each of them. The Uruguayan singer-songwriter reached a major milestone on 16 October, performing the biggest concert of his career in Valencia, and what a way to do it. Armed with a guitar, a remarkable catalogue of songs and a songwriting talent that turns everyday observations into profound reflections on life, love and humanity, Drexler transformed the enormous Roig Arena into a space for intimacy, connection and collective emotion. Opening with “Toco madera” and “¿Cómo se ama?”, he established the tone for a performance that moved effortlessly between delicate singer-songwriter moments, Latin American rhythms, folk influences and adventurous sonic experimentation. Drexler has never been an artist content to sit comfortably inside one musical box, and the evening demonstrated exactly why his work continues to resonate across generations. The audience was treated to a journey through a career packed with lyrical treasures, with “Al otro lado del río”, “La trama y el desenlace”, “Polvo de estrellas” and “Las palabras” among the highlights. His Oscar-winning song “Al otro lado del río”, from The Motorcycle Diaries, remains a landmark in his career, but Drexler's appeal stretches far beyond a single award or celebrated composition. His real gift lies in the way he connects music, language and emotion, finding extraordinary meaning in the seemingly ordinary details of human existence. The atmosphere shifted between thoughtful silence, enthusiastic applause and those wonderful moments when a crowd becomes part of the performance itself. “Movimiento”, “Tocarte” and “Universos paralelos” brought a more rhythmically adventurous side to the stage, reminding everyone that Drexler is as interested in making bodies move as he is in making minds wander. One of the evening's most moving passages came with “Milonga del moro judío”, a powerful reflection on identity, history and shared humanity, followed by “Cuando cantaba Morente”, his tribute to the legendary Granada-born flamenco singer Enrique Morente. In a particularly memorable moment, Drexler took “Las palabras” into the middle of the arena floor, performing from an improvised stage among the audience and bringing the connection between artist and fans even closer. The closing stretch was a triumph, with “Todo se transforma” providing one of the night's great emotional peaks. Its message about transformation, the interconnectedness of life and the way everything we give eventually finds its way back to us felt particularly fitting for a concert built around the power of shared experience. “Ante la duda, baila” and “Bailar en la cueva” carried that energy forward, giving the audience permission to surrender to the rhythm after an evening of lyrical contemplation. Then came the finale. Accompanied by a candombe ensemble of more than thirty people, Drexler brought the concert to a close with “Sea”, creating a powerful celebration of Uruguayan musical heritage and collective spirit. It was an appropriately expansive ending for an artist whose music consistently builds bridges between cultures, traditions and people. Roig Arena may have provided the scale for Drexler's biggest Valencia concert to date, but the real achievement was how personal the evening felt despite the thousands gathered inside. There was no need for empty bombast when the songs themselves carried such emotional weight, and no need to manufacture a connection when the audience was already so deeply invested in every word. Jorge Drexler came to Valencia with a lifetime of songwriting behind him and left having reached a new milestone in his relationship with the city. In a world that rarely stops talking, he offered something increasingly valuable: music that makes you listen, lyrics that make you think and melodies that remind you why we gather together in the first place. A landmark night for Drexler, a triumph for the songwriters and a beautiful reminder that the most powerful thing in a packed arena can still be a single voice telling the truth.

Some bands give you a good night out. Others remind you exactly why you fell in love with music in the first place. At Sala Moon in Valencia, Scottish indie legends Teenage Fanclub brought decades of melodic brilliance to a crowd who know that great songs never go out of fashion. There is something gloriously reassuring about Teenage Fanclub. While musical fashions have come and gone, guitars have been turned up, turned down and buried beneath every imaginable studio effect, Norman Blake, Raymond McGinley and their bandmates have continued to champion the beautiful simplicity of a cracking tune. At Sala Moon, that gift for turning jangling guitars, bittersweet melodies and glorious vocal harmonies into something genuinely uplifting was the reason to be there. Formed in Bellshill, near Glasgow, in 1989, Teenage Fanclub emerged from Scotland's alternative music underground with a sound that drew on the melodic genius of Big Star, the Byrds and the Beach Boys, while retaining enough fuzzy guitar noise to keep their indie-rock credentials firmly intact. Their early material had plenty of rough edges, but beneath the distortion was an extraordinary instinct for melody that would become their calling card. The release of Bandwagonesque in 1991 transformed their reputation, establishing the band as one of the great guitar groups of the decade. Tracks such as “The Concept”, “Star Sign” and “What You Do to Me” captured the perfect balance between scruffy alternative rock and irresistible pop songwriting. Kurt Cobain was among their most celebrated admirers, while Oasis would later make no secret of their appreciation for the Scots. Teenage Fanclub had the tunes, the harmonies and the quiet confidence to stand alongside anyone in the business. Albums including Grand Prix and Songs from Northern Britain subsequently cemented their place in the indie-rock firmament, delivering a succession of beautifully crafted songs that managed to feel both timeless and deeply personal. This was never a band chasing the latest trend or desperately trying to sound younger than they were. Teenage Fanclub understood that a great melody could outlive any passing musical fashion. And that is precisely what makes seeing them live such a pleasure. Their music has a warmth that cuts through the noise, with guitars that shimmer rather than swagger and vocal harmonies that seem to arrive straight from some impossibly perfect corner of the 1960s. There is melancholy in their songwriting, certainly, but it is the sort that makes you feel better rather than worse, like bumping into an old friend and discovering that the conversation picks up exactly where it left off. Inside Sala Moon, the atmosphere belonged to a band whose audience understands the value of a song that stays with you long after the amplifiers have been switched off. This was music for the devoted, for the indie lifers and for anyone who has ever attached an entire chapter of their life to a particular record. The beauty of a Teenage Fanclub show is that their songs can transport you backwards without leaving you trapped in the past. There is a particular pleasure in hearing music of this calibre in a venue where the connection between the stage and the audience feels immediate. No stadium-sized distractions are required when the songwriting does the heavy lifting. The guitars, the harmonies and the familiar emotional pull of the melodies are more than enough to bring a room together, with generations of music fans finding common ground in the same beautifully constructed choruses. Of course, nostalgia is an easy card for any band with a catalogue like Teenage Fanclub's to play, but their lasting appeal goes much deeper than fond memories of the 1990s. Their finest songs have an almost effortless quality, concealing the craft beneath the surface. They sound simple because the best songwriters understand precisely what to leave out, and Teenage Fanclub have spent a career demonstrating that restraint can be every bit as powerful as excess. Their story has continued well beyond their original breakthrough, too. Following Gerard Love's departure in 2018, the band carried on exploring their melodic instincts, releasing Endless Arcade in 2021, Nothing Lasts Forever in 2023 and Do Not Dare to Dream in 2026. The personnel and musical landscape may have changed, but the commitment to beautifully written guitar music remains central to their identity. Sala Moon was the place to celebrate that legacy, with a band whose influence reaches far beyond the record collections of their original fans. Teenage Fanclub have spent more than three decades proving that indie rock does not need to be complicated to be profound, that a little distortion can sit perfectly alongside a gorgeous harmony, and that a great chorus can still make the world feel like a slightly better place. In a musical climate that often seems obsessed with the next big thing, there is something wonderfully refreshing about a band that knows exactly who it is. Teenage Fanclub have earned their place in the history of British alternative music, not through grand gestures or manufactured mythology, but through a catalogue packed with songs that people genuinely love. And when the lights go down and the last guitar rings out, that is ultimately what matters. Great songs, played by musicians who believe in them, for an audience that understands every note. Valencia got a welcome reminder that some things never lose their magic. Words and photos: Rhyan Paul

Valencia, get ready to turn up the volume! Festival A-BANDA has unleashed its first wave of artists for its upcoming takeover of La Pèrgola, and with five names already on the bill and plenty more still to come, this November date is shaping up to be a seriously tasty slice of live music. Landing at La Pèrgola, La Marina de València, on Saturday 14 November, A-BANDA has announced Los Puñales de Martín, El Parón, Amarillo Fiesta, Robert Grayd and Autoestop as the first acts on a line-up that promises to grow considerably. The organisers are keeping the best surprises under wraps for now, with plenty more artists still waiting in the wings. The festival runs into the evening, bringing a full stretch of live music to one of Valencia’s most distinctive waterfront settings. La Pèrgola has become a favourite spot for music lovers who like their gigs with a sea breeze and a lively crowd, and A-BANDA looks ready to make the most of it. And this is only the first announcement. With more names still to be revealed, there’s every reason to keep an eye on the line-up as it takes shape. If these opening acts are anything to go by, A-BANDA is just getting started. Festival A-BANDA Date: Saturday 14 November 2026 Venue: La Pèrgola, La Marina de València First confirmed acts: Los Puñales de Martín, El Parón, Marillo Fiesta, Robert Grayd and Autoestop More artists: To be announced Mark the date, keep your ears open for the next announcement and get ready for a big afternoon and evening of live music by the water. Valencia, A-BANDA is calling! For tickets and more information: La Pèrgola

Valencia, get ready to turn back the clock and crank up the guitars! Razorlight are coming to Sala Moon on Tuesday 17 November 2026, bringing two decades of British indie-rock swagger, sharp melodies and big, shout-it-back choruses to the city. With the band celebrating the 20th anniversary of their self-titled, chart-topping second album, this promises to be a treat for longtime fans and anyone who still believes a great guitar riff can change the course of an evening. Fronted by Johnny Borrell, Razorlight became one of the defining names of the British indie explosion of the mid-2000s. Their debut album, Up All Night, put them firmly on the map, but it was 2006’s Razorlight that propelled them to the top, delivering a collection of songs that captured the restless energy, romantic chaos and infectious confidence of a generation discovering its own soundtrack. Now the band are celebrating that record's 20th anniversary, bringing its songs back to the stage alongside the hits that made them indie-rock favourites. Expect the likes of “America,” “In the Morning” and “Before I Fall to Pieces”, with the anniversary set also offering a chance to hear some less frequently played tracks from the album. Razorlight's appeal has always rested on that perfect balance of urgency and melody. The guitars are bright and restless, the rhythms push forward, and Borrell's unmistakable vocal delivery gives the songs their distinctive mix of attitude, vulnerability and swagger. These are tracks built for packed rooms, raised voices and those moments when the entire crowd seems to know every word. For fans who were there when British indie-rock ruled record shops, festival stages and late-night playlists, this anniversary tour offers a welcome chance to reconnect with a defining era. For younger listeners, it's an opportunity to discover why Razorlight's songs have endured beyond the fashion cycles and hype that surrounded their original rise. The night also has a strong supporting act, with The K’s joining the Valencia date. The British indie-rockers will set the tone before Razorlight take over, making this a double bill for anyone with a soft spot for energetic guitars and modern British guitar music. The concert takes place at Sala Moon, on Carrer de Sant Vicent Màrtir, with doors opening at 7:30pm, The K’s scheduled for 8pm and Razorlight due on stage at 9pm. If America was the soundtrack to your youth, if Up All Night still gets regular spins, or if you simply fancy a night of proper, guitar-driven indie rock, this is one for the diary. Razorlight are bringing a landmark album back to life, and Valencia gets its chance to sing along. For tickets and more information: Ticketmaster

There are gigs where you politely sip your drink and nod along, and then there are nights when the music gets under your skin, the crowd starts loosening up and the whole room feels like it has been transported somewhere warmer, wilder and a little more mischievous. Jeepers Creepers brought exactly that spirit to El Café in Carcaixent, serving up a deliciously offbeat cocktail of swing, calypso, New Orleans rhythms and French-flavoured musical detours. The band, a fresh incarnation of the musicians behind Sunshine in Ohio, arrived with a sound that refuses to sit obediently in one musical corner. Guitar, double bass, trumpet and trombone combined to create a richly textured performance, full of rhythmic twists, playful interplay and the sort of musical chemistry that only really comes alive when musicians are enjoying themselves. This was music with character, personality and a cheeky twinkle in its eye, delivered with the confidence of players who understand that a great performance is about far more than simply getting the notes right. The real magic, however, was the connection between the band and the crowd. Jeepers Creepers created the kind of atmosphere that makes live music special, drawing people into their world rather than leaving them watching from a distance. The shifting rhythms and infectious grooves gave the audience plenty to respond to, while the band's playful approach made the evening feel relaxed, welcoming and wonderfully spontaneous. It was a reminder that music doesn't need stadium-sized production or endless noise to make an impression; sometimes all it takes is a talented group of musicians, a receptive crowd and a room full of good vibes. And there was no better setting for it than El Café. This beloved Carcaixent music hangout has built its reputation on providing a welcoming home for live performance, bringing together local music lovers and adventurous audiences who appreciate the experience of discovering something different. The venue has its own personality, its own community and that essential sense of closeness between performers and audience that can turn an ordinary evening into something genuinely special. Much of that spirit comes down to Enric Casassús, the man behind El Café and a passionate supporter of live music in the town. His determination to keep bringing quality performers through the doors means Carcaixent audiences can enjoy distinctive musical experiences without having to head into Valencia. From rock and blues to more adventurous sounds like those of Jeepers Creepers, Enric continues to give the local scene a place to gather, listen, dance and celebrate the simple pleasure of live music. Jeepers Creepers fitted beautifully into that philosophy. Their blend of swinging rhythms, brass-driven colour and easy-going musical mischief offered something a little different from the usual gig experience, while the band's interaction with the audience helped create an evening built around shared enjoyment rather than musical posturing. There was craft beneath the playfulness, but never the sense that the musicians were taking themselves too seriously. The result was a performance that felt warm, lively and full of personality. Ultimately, this was a celebration of everything that makes independent music venues so valuable. A band willing to explore, an audience ready to join the ride, and a venue owner committed to keeping the music alive in his community: that's a pretty irresistible combination. Jeepers Creepers brought the swing, the colour and the groove, while El Café supplied the perfect setting for it all to unfold. Another excellent reminder that Carcaixent's musical heart is beating loud and proud. Long may Enric keep opening those doors, long may bands like Jeepers Creepers take the stage, and long may El Café remain a place where good music and good company go hand in hand. Words and photos: Rhyan Paul

Some records arrive polished, packaged and desperate to tell you exactly what they are. Movement of Youth, the debut album from Ypsilanti, Michigan’s Time Creep, takes a rather more interesting route, emerging from basements, attics, trailers and improvised recording spaces with its wires showing, its edges rough and its imagination running gloriously wild. Led by former Awesome Color guitarist and vocalist Derek Stanton, this is a record that embraces the beauty of getting lost, where art rock, power pop and post-punk collide in a haze of wiry guitars, strange rhythms and gloriously unpredictable songwriting. Released through Not Not Noise on October 30, Movement of Youth sounds like a band discovering its own identity in real time, because that is precisely what happened. Recorded over several years among a loose network of friends making music wherever they could, the album captures the excitement of experimentation without the suffocating pressure to make everything fit neatly into place. These songs have room to wander, stumble, mutate and surprise, giving the record a wonderfully human quality that more carefully assembled productions sometimes struggle to capture. Stanton is an intriguing songwriter, happy to take familiar ingredients and twist them into something slightly crooked. The guitars can be sharp and angular one moment, hypnotic the next, while the rhythm section finds its own unconventional grooves rather than obediently following the rulebook. There are echoes of art-rock pioneers, punk innovators and alternative-rock outsiders lurking around the edges, but Movement of Youth never feels like a tribute act searching through somebody else's wardrobe. Its character comes from the tension between melody and noise, structure and chaos, with Time Creep sounding most comfortable when they refuse to sit still. “Midnight Store” is a particularly compelling example of Stanton's ability to turn unsettling experiences into vivid musical landscapes. Inspired by a robbery at gunpoint during his time working as a parking garage attendant, alongside the lonely world of friends working late-night gas station shifts, the song conjures a fluorescent-lit America where danger and boredom share the same uncomfortable space. Pulsing synths and wiry guitars create a restless, nocturnal atmosphere, the music moving with the slightly unreal momentum of a long drive through the small hours. It's tense, strange and immediately evocative, demonstrating that a good song can make an ordinary location feel loaded with possibility. Elsewhere, “There Is No One” gets gloriously loose, its upstroke, skanking guitars powering a garage-rock excursion through shifting melodies and absurdity. “Empty Spaces” takes a more oblique look at personalities and the invisible territory people occupy, while “You, Everywhere” brings a heavier rhythmic punch, swirling glam energy and a cosmic sense of movement. The songs have individual personalities, but they share a willingness to follow an idea wherever it leads, even if the destination is somewhere nobody quite expected. The album's title track provides another highlight, its motorik drive and avant-pop sensibility building a compelling forward momentum. Stanton began writing it while watching the Egyptian Revolution unfold through television and his phone, initially framing the song around youth in revolt. As the album took shape over the following years, the title acquired a broader resonance, reflecting both the passage of time and the unpredictable circumstances that can delay a band's arrival. There is something fitting about that history: a record concerned with movement, change and youthful energy that has taken its own winding route into the world. “Kill the Scene” also carries an interesting emotional undercurrent, having emerged subconsciously after the breakup of a band that had deeply influenced Stanton. The songwriter only recognised the connection later, adding another layer to an album full of ideas that seem to reveal themselves gradually. That sense of discovery runs throughout Movement of Youth, making it feel less like a collection of carefully explained statements and more like a set of musical instincts gradually finding their shape. The DIY recording process is central to the album's appeal. Tracked across makeshift studios and home-recording spaces around Michigan, with additional guitar recorded at J. Mascis' Bisquiteen studio in Amherst, Massachusetts, the record retains a lo-fi immediacy that suits its restless spirit. Mixed by Stanton and mastered by Sarah Register, it allows the roughness to become part of the personality rather than something that needs to be scrubbed away. The production gives the guitars room to scrape and shimmer, while the drums can be oddly simple, unexpectedly heavy or just off-kilter enough to keep you listening. Time Creep also arrive with serious musical history behind them. Stanton's previous work with Awesome Color and Turn To Crime brought years of touring and opportunities to share stages with influential artists, while drummer Stefan Krstovic and bassist Nick Zomparelli bring their own experience from Michigan's wider underground scene. The trio played their first show opening for Protomartyr in 2023, and Movement of Youth captures a band drawing on those experiences without allowing its past to dictate its future. What makes this debut so enjoyable is its refusal to behave. It can be melodic without becoming predictable, noisy without descending into aimlessness, and thoughtful without feeling weighed down by its own ideas. The songs leave space for accidents and unexpected turns, creating a loose, restless atmosphere that feels refreshingly alive. There is no grand attempt to reinvent rock music here, just three musicians following their instincts and making something that sounds genuinely theirs. Movement of Youth is an engaging introduction to a band with plenty of room to grow, but it already has a distinctive identity: angular, melodic, scruffy, occasionally surreal and full of nervous energy. Time Creep have turned years of experimentation into a debut that feels less like a final destination than the beginning of a much bigger adventure. In a musical landscape that can sometimes feel obsessed with perfection, their willingness to embrace the unfinished, the unexpected and the gloriously wonky makes this one worth spending time with. Verdict: A wiry, adventurous and irresistibly off-centre debut that finds melody in the mess and momentum in the noise. Time Creep aren't looking backwards; they're making their own kind of beautiful racket. Listen here: Time Creep

Valencia, sharpen your ears and prepare to turn up the volume, because The Let’s Go’s are rolling into 16 Toneladas on Wednesday 28 October, bringing their energetic mix of rock, pop and punk to one of the city’s most important destinations for live music. With punchy guitar riffs, powerful vocals and choruses designed to stick in your head long after the final chord, this is a gig for anyone who likes their rock ’n’ roll served loud, direct and without unnecessary fuss. The Let’s Go’s have built their reputation on a dynamic sound that brings together the immediacy of punk, the infectious appeal of pop and the raw drive of rock. Their music thrives on big hooks and guitar-led energy, creating songs that invite you to turn up the volume and get involved. It’s a combination that gives their sound plenty of bite without sacrificing melody, proving that catchy tunes and a rebellious streak can make excellent partners. The band’s live performances are a major part of their appeal, with high-energy shows helping them win over audiences around the world. Rather than simply recreating their recordings on stage, The Let’s Go’s bring an intensity that suits the live setting, where driving guitars, strong vocals and irresistible choruses can really come into their own. For established fans, the Valencia date offers a chance to experience that energy at close quarters; for newcomers, it’s an opportunity to discover a band whose sound crosses the boundaries between rock, pop and punk without losing its personality. There is also something particularly appealing about catching a band like this in an intimate venue. 16 Toneladas has become a key stop on Valencia’s live music circuit, providing a home for artists and audiences who appreciate the real thing: a stage, a room full of music lovers and the shared thrill of seeing a band deliver in person. The venue’s atmosphere makes it a fitting setting for a group whose music is built around energy, connection and songs that demand to be heard at full volume. The Let’s Go’s continue to develop their sound and explore new styles while holding on to the roots that make their music distinctive. That balance between evolution and attitude gives the band plenty of room to move, while their combination of memorable melodies and guitar-driven punch keeps the focus firmly on the songs. Whether you arrive looking for punk spirit, rock ’n’ roll swagger or a healthy dose of infectious pop hooks, there should be plenty to get your attention. So, if your idea of a perfect Wednesday night involves live guitars, big choruses and a band ready to give the stage everything they have, make a date with The Let’s Go’s. Valencia’s music calendar is never short of options, but this one offers a chance to catch an energetic international act in the close-up surroundings that make small-venue gigs so special. For tickets and more information: 16 Toneladas

There is something wonderfully disarming about music that allows vulnerability to take centre stage, and on their debut album The Fear That This Is Real, sisters Sarah Julia deliver a beautifully intimate collection of folk-infused songwriting, luminous harmonies and emotional honesty that gets beneath the skin without ever needing to raise its voice. Released through Nettwerk, the album finds the duo exploring the complicated territory between heartbreak and hope, nostalgia and possibility, with songs that feel less like polished performances and more like private thoughts finally given permission to escape into the world. There is a delicate strength running through these ten tracks, a quiet confidence in the power of restraint that makes the listening experience all the more affecting. Recorded live over six days in autumn 2025 at producer Philip Weinrobe’s studio in Woodstock, New York, the album benefits from an approach that places human connection ahead of studio perfection. Weinrobe, whose previous work includes Big Thief, Adrienne Lenker and Florist, helped create an environment where the sisters could lean into the emotional heart of their songs. With a small group of musicians playing together, often late into the night by candlelight, the recordings capture the warmth and intimacy of musicians responding to one another in the moment. That atmosphere is central to the record's appeal. Rooted in classic folk traditions but delivered with a contemporary sensitivity, Sarah Julia's songwriting finds beauty in uncertainty, while their captivating vocal harmonies provide a thread of light through the album's more introspective moments. Nothing feels forced, and the arrangements allow the songs to breathe, giving the lyrics space to settle and the emotions room to unfold. Latest single ‘Touchdown’ is a particularly compelling example of the duo's approach. Built around delicate guitar and violin flourishes, the track reflects on personal growth, disconnection and the longing to feel grounded again. Its gradual development mirrors the uncertainty at the heart of the song, while the sisters' intertwined voices bring an almost weightless beauty to material rooted in very human confusion. As Sarah Julia explain, the song explores the desire to become a more centred, present version of yourself, even when the path towards that person remains unclear. It's a feeling that gives the album much of its emotional resonance. The search for certainty, the desire to move forward and the uncomfortable realisation that growing up rarely comes with a reliable map are themes that many listeners will recognise. Sarah Julia approach them with tenderness rather than melodrama, allowing the songs to find their own meaning in the spaces between the words. Across the tracklist, from ‘Bigger Picture’ and ‘Conversation’ to ‘Going Going Gone’, ‘Therapist’s Daughter’ and ‘Wishing Stone’, the sisters build a world that rewards close listening. The songs are intimate without feeling insular, their emotional openness balanced by harmonies that lift the material towards something quietly hopeful. Even when the subject matter turns towards pain or uncertainty, there is an underlying sense that understanding can emerge from sitting with difficult feelings rather than trying to outrun them. The Woodstock setting adds another layer of musical history to the story. The album artwork was captured at the famous Big Pink House associated with Bob Dylan and The Band, connecting Sarah Julia's contemporary folk sensibility with a place deeply embedded in the mythology of American songwriting. Yet this is no exercise in nostalgia. The duo take those traditions and make them their own, creating a sound that feels personal, immediate and unmistakably alive. With support already coming from the likes of NME, The Independent, Clash, The Line of Best Fit and BBC Radio 1, Sarah Julia are building momentum at an exciting point in their career. Following a US tour supporting Mon Rovia, the sisters are heading into their first UK and European headline dates, with several shows already sold out. The Fear That This Is Real is an assured and deeply affecting debut, a record that understands emotional honesty can be more powerful than grand gestures. Sarah Julia have created something tender, thoughtful and quietly magnetic, inviting listeners into their world without ever making the experience feel anything less than universal. In a musical landscape that often seems determined to shout for attention, these sisters offer a welcome reminder that sometimes the songs that stay with us longest are the ones that speak softly, tell the truth and leave enough room for us to find ourselves in them. For more information: Sarah Julia

Gutalax, Pink Socks, a deranged rabbit, flying toilet paper and a sold-out night of Valencian Punk and Czech Gore Grind insanity. Valencia, you beautiful lunatics, what the actual fuck happened last night? There are gigs you attend, gigs you remember and gigs that leave you questioning whether the laws of physics, human dignity and responsible alcohol consumption were ever anything more than a collective misunderstanding. Last night at Peter Rock Club belonged firmly in the third category, as Czech Gore Grind merchants Gutalax returned to Valencia for the first time in two years and transformed a sold-out room into a steaming, bouncing, toilet-paper-strewn monument to the beautiful absurdity of extreme music. The evidence was everywhere. The same familiar faces who had been waiting two years for this moment were packed shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide, grins spreading across faces that suggested absolutely nobody had come here for a quiet night out. There was a smell of anticipation in the air, the sort of electricity that only happens when a crowd knows precisely what kind of madness is coming and has decided, collectively, that behaving like a normal human being is no longer an option. Before Gutalax could unleash their particular brand of musical sewage, Pink Socks had the job of warming up a crowd whose enthusiasm was already bubbling away like something best left undisturbed beneath a public toilet. It was a welcme opening salvo, setting the tone for an evening where subtlety had been invited to stay at home and common sense had apparently been refused entry at the door. . And because this was never going to be an ordinary evening, a completely crazy rabbit was wandering around feeding people drinks, as though Peter Rock Club had temporarily become an alternative universe where woodland creatures had abandoned carrots for booze and taken responsibility for crowd management. Quite honestly, nobody could have invented a more appropriate warm-up act for the carnage to come. The atmosphere was already gloriously unhinged, but when the opening set reached “Skinheads Por Obligacion”, the crowd went absolutely mental. Whatever remained of the distinction between audience and performers disappeared in a surge of bodies, raised arms and voices roaring along. The room erupted, and suddenly it was clear that this wasn't merely a support slot to be endured before the headliners arrived; the party was already in full swing, with the rabbit presumably somewhere nearby arranging the next round. If Pink Socks had been tasked with getting the audience moving, mission accomplished. If Sergio had been hoping to leave a few people with ringing ears and questionable memories, he was doing rather well too. And yet, this was only the appetiser. Two years is a long time to wait for Gutalax, particularly when the band in question has built an international reputation on making the words toilet humour sound like a perfectly respectable branch of extreme musical science. The Czech outfit returned to Valencia with the sort of following that makes a sold-out show feel less like a concert and more like an illegal gathering of people who have all received the same deeply suspicious invitation. The familiar faces were there again, the diehards who understand that Gutalax aren't something you simply watch from a safe distance. You participate. You throw yourself into the madness, you lose your voice, you question your footwear and you accept that, at some point, a toilet roll is likely to become airborne. Then the band hit the stage. Frontman Maty is a magnificent force of nature, a man who seems to operate on a frequency somewhere between a human being, a cartoon character and a malfunctioning industrial appliance. His manic energy was contagious, his stage presence gloriously ridiculous, and his ability to whip the room into another level of insanity appeared to have no obvious upper limit. He wasn't simply fronting a band; he was presiding over a full-scale breakdown of public order, with a grin that suggested he wouldn't have had it any other way. Toilet rolls began flying towards the stage, filling the air with white paper streamers as the crowd threw itself into the music. The mosh pits opened up, bodies collided, and crowd surfing turned the audience into a rolling, heaving conveyor belt of delighted lunatics. There was no room for passive observation here. If you were standing still, you were either catching your breath, trying to locate a missing friend or wondering how on earth you had ended up with toilet paper stuck to your shoulder. “Diarrhero” sent the place into another dimension, while “Assmeralda” and “Poopcorn” kept the collective insanity bubbling at a temperature that would have alarmed most health and safety inspectors. Every familiar riff seemed to act as a starter pistol, sending another wave of bodies into the pit, another collection of fans over the crowd and another volley of toilet rolls towards Maty and the band. By the time “Vaginapocalypse” came around, the whole operation had become a glorious, unmanageable spectacle. Gutalax were delivering precisely what the crowd had come for: ludicrously entertaining, brutally energetic goregrind, performed with a sense of humour so shameless that attempting to take any of it seriously would have been an insult to the occasion. The music was fast, filthy and relentless, but the real magic lay in the connection between the band and the audience. These weren't people who had casually discovered Gutalax last Tuesday and decided to pop along for a look. These were fans who had waited two years for this return, who knew the songs, understood the joke and were determined to make every second count. Peter Rock Club became a human washing machine on its most violent spin cycle, with Maty at the controls and absolutely nobody searching for the off switch. Like a particularly aggressive bout of diarrhoea, the whole thing came on quickly, hit hard and was over before anyone was remotely prepared for the consequences. One minute we were deep in the madness, surrounded by flying toilet rolls, sweat, noise and people behaving as though civilisation had been a terrible idea from the beginning. The next, the set was over, the lights had changed and that familiar post-gig feeling began to creep in: the disbelief that something so gloriously chaotic could have disappeared quite so quickly. Gutalax had been away for two years, yet somehow the wait had made the reunion feel even more ridiculous. The same faces, the same camaraderie, the same unrestrained enthusiasm and a room full of people who had collectively decided that the best possible use of a night in Valencia was to lose their minds to songs with titles that would make a hospital receptionist reach for the disinfectant. The party continued backstage, where the boundary between a perfectly good evening and a catastrophic personal decision became increasingly difficult to identify. My own recollections from this point onwards are, to put it politely, somewhat compromised. I don't actually remember leaving... Somewhere in the aftermath, I believe I arranged to meet the band for breakfast in Paris. It sounded like a splendid idea at the time, presumably during one of those moments when alcohol convinces you that you are a functioning adult capable of making plans, keeping appointments and remembering conversations. Reader, I did not make it. I was, to put it in the most scientifically accurate terms available, completely shitfaced. Whether the breakfast arrangement was ever properly confirmed, whether anyone was waiting for me, or whether the entire conversation existed only in the foggy theatre of my alcohol-addled imagination remains a matter for future investigation. What I can confirm is that Gutalax had delivered a night sufficiently ferocious to leave my memory with several missing pages, and that any plans involving an early start and a respectable breakfast were doomed from the moment the first toilet roll took flight. Gutalax's return to Valencia was everything a sold-out show should be when the band in question specialises in turning extreme music into an outrageous communal celebration. Pink Socks got the night moving, Sergio brought his own flavour of madness, the rabbit kept the drinks circulating, and Maty and the Gutalax crew proceeded to turn Peter Rock Club into a monument to the wonderfully stupid, gloriously loud and thoroughly liberating side of live music. The mosh pits, the crowd surfing, the toilet rolls and the deafening response to “Skinheads Por Obligacion”, “Diarrhero”, “Assmeralda”, “Poopcorn” and “Vaginapocalypse” all contributed to a night that felt less like a concert and more like a public health emergency with an excellent soundtrack. Most importantly, after two years away, Gutalax returned to find their Valencia faithful waiting with open arms, questionable hygiene standards and an almost religious commitment to the cause. And me? I'm still trying to work out how I got home, whether breakfast in Paris was ever a real thing, and why a band whose songs celebrate the less glamorous aspects of the human digestive system managed to leave me with such a beautiful memory of live music. Well, the bits I can remember, anyway..... Gutalax at Peter Rock Club: sold out, utterly deranged and an absolute bloody triumph. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find a toilet roll, a large glass of water and possibly a new liver...... Words and photos: Rhyan Paul

Carcaixent’s favourite live-music hangout is back in business after a weekend packed with music, affection and the kind of community spirit that makes El Café such a special place. On Wednesday 14 October, Enric welcomes Jeepers Creepers to the stage for an evening of swinging rhythms, New Orleans flavour and musical surprises. There’s no sitting still for long at El Café in Carcaixent, where owner Enric Casassús continues to make live music part of the town’s everyday life. After a fantastic weekend of performances, good company and plenty of musical complicity, the venue takes a brief breather before throwing open its doors again for Jeepers Creepers, a fresh incarnation of the musicians behind Sunshine in Ohio. If the name suggests something a little mischievous, the music promises to be just as playful. Jeepers Creepers draw on a rich mixture of swing, calypso and New Orleans sounds, with a few French influences and other musical detours thrown into the mix. It’s the sort of combination built for a lively room, tapping feet and the feeling that the evening could wander happily in any direction once the musicians get going. The band brings together a colourful line-up of instrumental talent, with guitar, double bass, trumpet and trombone among the sounds featured in the event poster. Expect an evening that celebrates musical craftsmanship, infectious rhythms and the joy of musicians playing together, rather than another night of predictable background noise. And that is precisely where Enric’s contribution matters. El Café has long been more than somewhere to grab a drink; it is a meeting point for Carcaixent’s music lovers, a welcoming stage for performers and a venue where live music remains a living, breathing part of the local community. Enric’s continued commitment to bringing quality acts to the town gives audiences the chance to discover something different without having to travel to Valencia or beyond. Jeepers Creepers play El Café on Wednesday 14 October, with music starting at 8pm. Those who have already enjoyed the band’s previous musical adventures will know what they are in for, while anyone yet to catch them has a perfect opportunity to put that right. There’s more community action on the horizon, too. El Café is also taking part in the Cercatasques organised by FACA on Saturday 17 October, with tickets on sale for a midday outing built around drinks, tapas, music, the streets of Carcaixent and plenty of good company. Swing on Wednesday, tapas and street-party spirit on Saturday: Enric clearly has no intention of letting the music stop for long. For a town that values its local venues and the people who keep them alive, that is very good news indeed.

Los Brackets warmed up the trouble, Flashback turned up the temperature, and Kill The President! delivered the main event with Face The Tide. Valencia punk rock, you magnificent bastard, this was exactly the sort of night you were built for. Friday night in Valencia, and somewhere between the first guitar chord and the last battered eardrum, civilisation appeared to be coming apart at the seams. Thankfully, nobody at Loco Club seemed particularly interested in saving it. Kill The President! had arrived to celebrate the release of their new album, Face The Tide, and the occasion called for volume, velocity and a healthy disregard for anybody who thinks live music should behave itself. With Los Brackets and Flashback providing the opening salvos, the evening was a three-band assault on the senses, served in one of Valencia's most dependable dens of musical mischief. Forget the polished corporate concert experience, the acres of advertising, the VIP platforms and the giant screens instructing thousands of people when to raise their hands. Loco Club is a different animal altogether. Tucked away on Carrer de l'Erudit Orellana, this beloved Valencia venue is the kind of place where the distance between the stage and the audience is measured in inches rather than football pitches, where guitar noise feels physical and where the crowd becomes part of the performance whether it intended to or not. It is an intimate room with a big reputation, and for a night celebrating melodic hardcore and punk rock, the setting could hardly have been more appropriate. First up were Los Brackets, the Valencia punk-rock survivors who have been knocking around since 2008 and have developed a musical personality that happily ignores the instruction manual. Their self-aware, deliberately nerdy approach to pop-punk comes with a healthy dose of humour, but beneath the wisecracks lies a band that understands the fundamental mechanics of a great punk song: get to the point, make it memorable, turn up the guitars and leave the audience with something rattling around inside its skull. Los Brackets occupy that sweet spot where melodic pop sensibilities collide with scruffy guitar-driven energy. Their music has the sort of urgency that makes you suspect they would struggle to sit still through a three-minute conversation, let alone a ballad that takes four minutes to get going. They brought the first dose of attitude to the evening, setting the wheels in motion and reminding everyone that punk rock does not require a complicated mission statement, a fashionable haircut or a degree in existential philosophy. Sometimes all you need is a decent riff, a sharp melody and the conviction to play the bloody thing. There was also something wonderfully fitting about having a long-running local band open the proceedings. Valencia's underground scene is kept alive by musicians who continue to write, rehearse, record and turn up, even when the music industry is busy congratulating itself for discovering something that has existed in sweaty rehearsal rooms for decades. Los Brackets are part of that stubborn tradition, bringing their own melodic mischief to a bill that would gradually descend into heavier territory as the evening progressed. Next came Flashback, the second act on a bill that refused to leave the audience sitting comfortably for long. With an Asturian melodic-hardcore identity, Flashback brought another strand of punk energy into the room, helping turn the evening from a straightforward album launch into a broader celebration of the music that exists beyond the mainstream radar. The beauty of a three-band bill like this is that the audience gets a journey rather than three identical stops on the same musical motorway. Los Brackets brought the playful, melody-led punk-rock side of the equation, while Flashback added another dose of hardcore urgency before the night's main attraction took control. Each act helped build the atmosphere, giving the crowd time to warm up, find its feet and prepare for the record that had brought everyone together. By the time the evening approached its headline set, the groundwork had been laid. This was not a crowd that needed a lecture about the virtues of independent music, nor did it need to be reminded that live punk works best when it feels a little dangerous around the edges. The audience had come for guitars, sweat, noise and a good Friday-night release from the daily grind, and Loco Club was obligingly supplying the necessary ingredients. Then came Kill The President!, the Valencia melodic-hardcore outfit whose music sounds like someone has taken a collection of legitimate grievances, fed them through a distortion pedal and launched the results at the nearest available authority figure. The band have spent years building their reputation in the Levantine hardcore scene, combining fast, technically sharp musicianship with the abrasion of hardcore punk and enough melody to make the songs stick long after the ringing in your ears has subsided. The current line-up features David on drums, Felipe on guitar, Angel on bass and Alberto on vocals, and there is a clear purpose behind the noise. Kill The President! are not simply interested in making a racket for the sake of making a racket. Their material takes aim at social injustice, environmental concerns and the comfortable complacency of the status quo, giving their aggression something more substantial to bite into. They understand that punk rock can be both a physical release and a way of telling the world that something is seriously wrong. Their recorded history, stretching from the Citizens EP through Aftermath and Unspoken, has established the foundations for a band that values speed, precision and conviction. Now Face The Tide adds another chapter to that story, and an album-release party at Loco Club was an entirely appropriate way to introduce it to the world. No grandiose corporate launch, no velvet rope separating the important people from everyone else, just a band, a room full of people and a new record ready to be put to the test where it matters most: in front of a live audience. A record release can sometimes feel like a polite ceremony, with musicians dutifully presenting their latest work while everyone nods appreciatively. That was never going to be the spirit of this occasion. Kill The President!'s music demands movement, attention and a willingness to engage with the material on its own terms. Melodic hardcore is a balancing act: the riffs have to hit hard, the rhythm section must maintain its forward momentum, and the melodies need to cut through the distortion without sanding away the aggression. It is a style that rewards technical ability but punishes anything that feels too comfortable. And that is precisely why Loco Club made such a fitting home for the celebration. In a room of this size, there is nowhere for a band to hide behind spectacle. Every drum hit, guitar passage and vocal line is delivered directly into the space occupied by the audience. The musicians can see the faces in front of them, the crowd can feel the physical impact of the sound, and the whole experience becomes a shared transaction between stage and floor. It is a reminder that punk and hardcore were never supposed to be passive spectator sports. The crowd was central to the occasion, providing the human element that separates a live album celebration from simply listening to a record at home. A packed club, a three-band bill and the collective anticipation surrounding a new release created exactly the kind of atmosphere that Valencia's underground scene thrives on. There is a particular camaraderie to these nights, when musicians and fans inhabit the same small musical ecosystem and the distinction between performer and audience feels refreshingly thin. Everyone is there because they want to be there, not because a marketing department has informed them that this is the event of the season. The crowd also represented something important about the continuing life of independent punk. These scenes do not sustain themselves through streaming figures and carefully manufactured online hype alone. They need people to buy tickets, turn up, support the opening acts, discover new music and give bands the opportunity to develop in front of an audience. A night like this is part concert, part community gathering and part stubborn refusal to let underground music disappear beneath the weight of the commercial machine. Credit, too, to Loco Club, a venue that continues to provide a valuable home for music operating outside the mainstream conveyor belt. Valencia has plenty of places to go out, but rooms with the right combination of intimacy, character and commitment to live music are precious commodities. Loco Club understands the value of putting different artists on the same bill, giving local acts a stage and allowing bands with something to say to connect directly with the people who have come to hear them. There is no need for a colossal production when the music itself has enough personality to fill the room. A guitar, a bass, a drum kit, a microphone and a crowd prepared to get involved can deliver a more satisfying evening than a mountain of expensive stage machinery. Loco Club provides the conditions for that simple equation to work, and the Kill The President! album-release party fitted comfortably into its tradition of giving independent artists room to make some noise. The venue also offers a reminder that Valencia's musical identity is not confined to the biggest stages or the artists whose names dominate the ticketing websites. Beneath the city's major concerts and festival headlines, there is a network of clubs, promoters, musicians and fans keeping the alternative scene alive. Those people deserve attention because they are the ones doing the work when the spotlights are switched off and the big touring circus has moved on to its next destination. Ultimately, this was Kill The President!'s night, and Face The Tide was the reason for bringing the whole operation together. The album represents another step in the band's ongoing commitment to melodic hardcore, socially conscious punk and music that refuses to confuse politeness with virtue. Their approach combines technical sharpness with raw energy, allowing the songs to carry both a musical punch and a message that reaches beyond the walls of the club. Los Brackets and Flashback helped make the occasion a proper three-band event rather than a headline set with a couple of obligatory warm-ups. Both contributed to the evening's wider identity, offering different flavours of punk and hardcore before Kill The President! took centre stage for their new album. That variety matters, because a healthy underground scene needs more than one band doing one thing well; it needs different voices, different approaches and enough mutual support to keep the whole ecosystem moving. And that brings us back to Loco Club, where the real value of nights like this becomes obvious. The music industry can spend endless hours discussing algorithms, engagement metrics and the next big commercial opportunity, but the underground survives through the much simpler act of people gathering in a room to experience music together. Bands make records, venues open their doors, audiences buy tickets and, for a few hours, the outside world can wait. Kill The President! came to Valencia to celebrate Face The Tide, backed by two bands who helped set the tone and a venue perfectly suited to the occasion. It was a night built around the things punk rock does best: melody with teeth, noise with purpose and a collective refusal to sit quietly while the world carries on as usual. No VIP nonsense, no arena-sized distractions, just three bands, a crowd and a club doing what it does best. Face The Tide has arrived, Kill The President! are still making their voices heard, and Valencia's underground continues to provide ample evidence that punk rock is nowhere near ready to shut up and behave itself. Words and photos: Rhyan Paul

If there was ever a reason to celebrate October in the Valencian countryside, Sunday at El Café in Carcaixent provided it in glorious technicolour. With blue skies, beautiful autumn sunshine and temperatures that made you wonder why anybody would voluntarily spend the day indoors, Enric Casassús once again brought people together for what live music in this part of the world should be all about: great musicians, good company, a packed venue and a long, leisurely lunch to finish the job. Taking centre stage were Sènior i el Cor Brutal, whose distinctive blend of folk, alternative rock and Americana brought warmth, character and plenty of musical personality to the lunchtime proceedings. Their sound was perfectly suited to the occasion, delivering the kind of performance that encourages people to put down their drinks, pay attention and get properly swept up in the music. There was no need for a huge stage or elaborate production; the musicians had the songs, the audience was ready to listen, and El Café provided the perfect setting. The lunchtime atmosphere was magnificent. The venue filled with music lovers, familiar faces, friends and neighbours, creating that wonderful sense of community that makes these events so enjoyable. Outside, the October sunshine was doing its best work, while inside, the music and conversation flowed as naturally as the drinks. It was relaxed, welcoming and wonderfully Valencian, with nobody appearing particularly interested in rushing off to do anything more important. And then, of course, came the paella. Because in this part of Spain, a successful Sunday gathering should never finish when the last note rings out. The music brought everyone together, but a proper plate of rice gave them an excellent reason to stay a little longer, catch up with friends and stretch the afternoon into something altogether more satisfying. Live music followed by paella in glorious October weather? Frankly, it is difficult to argue with that formula. At the heart of it all is Enric, whose connection with music runs much deeper than simply putting bands on a stage. As a musician himself, he understands the relationship between performers, audiences and the spaces that bring them together. His stewardship of El Café, a venue with roots stretching back to 1982, reflects that experience and an enduring belief that live music deserves a home in the heart of the community. That commitment matters. Small venues are essential to a healthy music scene, providing musicians with opportunities to perform while giving audiences the chance to discover artists in an intimate setting. Enric continues to champion quality music in Carcaixent, bringing an appealing mix of sounds and performers to a town that might otherwise have to look elsewhere for this kind of cultural experience. His approach is refreshingly straightforward: book good musicians, welcome people through the door and give everybody a reason to come back. Sunday's gathering was another reminder of just how well that philosophy works. Sènior i el Cor Brutal supplied the soundtrack, the October sunshine provided the atmosphere, the crowd brought the energy and the paella delivered the perfect finale. Enric, meanwhile, continued doing what he does best: keeping live music alive and making El Café an increasingly important part of Carcaixent's cultural life. Long may it continue. In a world obsessed with bigger stages, louder productions and ever more expensive tickets, there is something genuinely special about a packed local venue, talented musicians playing within touching distance and a community coming together simply because it loves music. Add a Valencian paella and a glorious October afternoon, and you have a recipe that deserves to be repeated again and again. Make the article punchier and less repetitiveAdd a stronger headline and standfirst