On 10 and 11 January, La M.O.D.A. (La Maravillosa Orquesta del Alcohol) will step onto the stage at Roig Arena, Valencia, for two consecutive nights that promise far more than just concerts. These shows feel like a milestone — for the band, for the venue, and for a fanbase that has grown alongside them, lyric by lyric, kilometre by kilometre. Back-to-back dates of this scale are not booked lightly. They are earned. And La M.O.D.A. have spent more than a decade earning exactly this moment. La M.O.D.A.’s story is one of steady, uncompromising ascent. Formed in Burgos in 2011, the band built its reputation the hard way: relentless touring, word-of-mouth devotion and songs that felt handwritten rather than manufactured. Their sound — a raw, emotional blend of folk, punk energy, rock urgency and acoustic intimacy — has always defied neat categorisation. Accordion, banjo, mandolin and saxophone sit comfortably alongside guitars and drums, creating a sonic identity that feels both timeless and urgent. It’s music that sounds equally at home in a sweaty club, a festival field, or a modern arena. What truly separates La M.O.D.A. from their peers is the relationship with their audience. Their songs are not performed at people — they are shared with them. Lyrics about uncertainty, resistance, friendship, exhaustion and hope have become collective chants, shouted back at the band with startling intensity. Tracks from albums like ¿Quién nos va a salvar?, Salvavida (de las balas perdidas) and Nuevo cancionero burgalés have cemented their status as one of Spain’s most emotionally resonant live acts. Every show feels less like a gig and more like a gathering — a temporary community formed by shared feeling. At Roig Arena, that community will number in the thousands. Booking two nights at Roig Arena is a bold move — and a telling one. This isn’t about spectacle for its own sake. It’s about scale finally catching up with substance. Roig Arena, Valencia’s new flagship venue, offers the space and sound to amplify what La M.O.D.A. do best: emotional connection, dynamic pacing, and moments of quiet that hit just as hard as the loud ones. Expect carefully shaped setlists across the two nights, drawing from across their catalogue while leaving room for surprise. La M.O.D.A. are known for respecting the intelligence and emotional investment of their audience — these shows will be designed, not rushed. La M.O.D.A.’s rise has been defined by independence and intent. They have resisted trends, avoided shortcuts and remained fiercely protective of their identity. In an era of disposable hits, their work rewards attention. In a culture of speed, they have chosen durability. That philosophy is exactly why they now find themselves filling arenas without losing their soul. These Roig Arena dates don’t represent a band changing who they are — they represent the world finally meeting them at their level. For tickets and more information: Roig Arena

Forget quiet mornings and airport monotony—this Wednesday, November 26 at 10:00 a.m., Valencia Airport is about to blow its own roof off. Locos por la Música, Sena Productions, Roig Arena, Asindown, Aena and Binter are dragging the circus straight to the terminal with an exclusive, crack-of-dawn showcase headlined by the eternal street-fighting legends Seguridad Social . Yeah, you read that right: guitars, sweat and rock ’n’ roll swagger echoing through the same halls where people usually argue about baggage allowances. It’s not just a gig—it’s the official ignition switch for Locos por la Música Valencia , the festival that’ll detonate on December 13 at Roig Arena, summoning a battalion of Spanish pop-rock royalty. We’re talking Revolver, Los Rebeldes, La Guardia, Amistades Peligrosas, Girasoules , and of course, Seguridad Social themselves—artists who’ve carved their riffs into the national DNA. And for those hungry for more than decibels? Once the airport showcase melts into smoke, Seguridad Social will be sticking around for in-person interviews—if you ask nicely and before the adrenaline wears off. Buckle up. Valencia Airport has never seen turbulence like this.

More than thirty years after they first detonated across the British music press, Suede are proving once again that nostalgia isn’t a museum piece — it’s a living, breathing animal with glitter in its teeth. On March 24, 2026 , the London glam-rock survivors will bring their Dancing with the Europeans Tour to Roig Arena in Valencia, marking one of the most anticipated stops of the band’s current European run. The tour comes in support of Antidepressants , the latest studio album from Suede: a record that doubles down on the band’s trademark cocktail of theatrical melancholy, sharp riffs, and nocturnal romanticism. It’s a work that feels both familiar and sharper — a portrait of European adulthood lived between neon, heartbreak, and commuter platforms. If early Suede was about chemical highs and urban lust, Antidepressants is about what happens after the party, when the sun rises and the voices in your head ask for meaning. Frontman Brett Anderson , still one of the most magnetic figures to ever slink across a stage, has been touring with a level of intensity that would embarrass artists half his age. Concert reviews from earlier tour dates describe him pacing like a caged poet, grabbing fists full of audience hands, and letting that tremoring falsetto cut straight through the PA system without apology. The chemistry between Anderson and guitarist Richard Oakes remains one of British rock’s great underrated partnerships — a dialogue between voice and guitar that pushes Suede far beyond the nostalgia circuit. Roig Arena , Valencia’s state-of-the-art concert venue, gives the show the scale it deserves. Opened in 2023, the arena has quickly become a magnet for international tours, offering world-class acoustics without sacrificing the intimacy of a live spectacle. Recent shows have demonstrated the venue’s ability to shape-shift: from pop to punk to orchestral, it handles dynamic lighting, bass weight and vocal clarity with the kind of precision Suede’s sound thrives on. Expect a setlist that stitches together eras: the Britpop-era anthems that first converted a generation — Animal Nitrate , Metal Mickey , The Drowners — alongside deep-cut fan favorites and new material from Antidepressants, whose tracks are already earning reputations as future staples. For fans who have followed Suede’s unlikely third-act resurgence, this tour feels like a moment of victory lap and creative renewal rolled into one. For Valencia — a city currently experiencing a boom in live music culture and international touring traffic — Suede’s arrival is more than a date on the calendar; it’s another chapter in a story that places the city firmly back on the European touring map. When the lights go down in Roig Arena and Brett Anderson takes that first prowling step toward the front row, Valencia won’t just be attending a concert — it’ll be participating in one of the great ongoing sagas of British rock. For tickets and more information: Roig Arena

Guy Chadwick has always felt like one of British indie’s great beautiful ghosts — a songwriter who walked into the late-’80s landscape with a tremor in his voice, a hurricane in his heart and a knack for choruses that could level entire postcodes. As the architect of The House of Love, Chadwick carved out a universe where romance was both radiant and ruinous, where guitars shimmered like broken stained glass and every lyric sounded like it had been dragged, smoking, from the wreckage of last night’s revelation. He was the calm centre of the storm: a quiet, bookish frontman with the soul of a confessional poet and the instincts of a firestarter. While everyone else in the scene was chasing the next big noise, Chadwick was busy writing songs that would outlast the whole damn circus. A cult icon with the receipts to prove it, he remains one of the most quietly influential figures of the era — part dreamer, part disruptor, and entirely unforgettable. Welcome to 16 Toneladas, Valencia - it’s been a year since I last saw you over at Visorfest in Murcia. You are currently one quarter of the way through your 12 dates tour – which started in France, is taking you through Spain and finishing in Paris. How is the tour going so far? It’s going great, we've done three dates in France already – Marseille last night in fact, and it’s going really well! We came back to Spain last year for the first time in decades and we didn’t know what to expect, but we still got a really good audience and reception.   Then it’s straight back to the UK and you are off on tour with the Primitives. Yes – looking forward to it!   Last September you re-released three albums from the Fontana Era and you released them on vinyl. Why is vinyl still important for you? It’s not important to me personally, but I do really like the format, and it displays your artwork. I still play records myself, so I do like the format. But more importantly people want vinyl alongside the digital options. And it sells, not in huge quantities like the old days, but good enough to make it worthwhile to release. I have a solo album, that I released 25 years ago and that’s coming out on vinyl in October. In fact, it was never released on vinyl, so this is the first time.   Any new House Of Love releases coming next year? Yeah, I am working on new material and hope to be releasing a record next year, it’s the early stages, all the songs are written – so I just need to record it.   Do you find when you write, you have to be in a certain place or state of mind? Or do you just write as the inspiration comes to you? I do need to be super focused and it’s not easy as I’m not a full-time musician anymore, so to tap back into that mentality, I need to prepare myself. It’s been 38 years since you started the band, which my mind cannot compute as for me the 90’s was 5 years ago! If you could go back to 1986, with all the knowledge you have now - what advice would you give to yourself? Ummm….. I wouldn’t, because whatever happens, happens. Good things happen; bad things happen. I personally cannot complain, -I have no major regrets. So, I feel quite lucky to be honest. I still have an audience; I can still play. I could have done better maybe, but I’m fine and no regrets! I’ve got a good band; they are very enthusiastic and take it seriously and we still sound good. If we didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing it!   When you are not touring, or in the studio – how do you kick back and relax? Well, I started a business which is completely outside of music about 20 years ago – it’s a joinery / window company and it was something I need to do at the time. I was happy with the way music was going, and I needed to do something completely different. It was very successful, so even though I do very little physically regarding the business, I am still involved and that is a very important part of my life, and it is quite time consuming. In think I want to keep it going for as long as I can, it’s not difficult but it is very satisfying. So, I have the two things which I enjoy. I am at a point in my life where there is going to be change coming up. For example, I live in a big house, so I want to downsize a bit and regroup and just make life easier for ourselves. We quite fancy just getting a camper van and just driving around Italy and enjoy ourselves!   Out of all of your live performances over the last 38 years, has there been one that stays in your memory for whatever reason. We did one at a festival in 1988 in Paris, we played at the festival with James and Julian Cope.  For me that’s probably the one that stands out.   Is it true that you once played three gigs in one night? Yeah! We did it twice actually! I wouldn’t recommend it; it was just a nightmare! We did it first in London and it was OK then we did it in Paris and I just didn’t like it at all. I found it really hard work!  For the London one we played ULU, The Town & Country and then the Boston Arms – it was ridiculous and probably a bad idea!     And finally a message for the fans out there? Thank you for continuing to come and see us perform and we still try our best for you!   Guy, thank you and see you onstage later tonight!    For more information: The House Of Love

Juan y La Hormiga’s debut full-length album, València, feels like a soft exhale — tender, introspective, and full of the small, intimate moments that make a place feel like “home.” Formed by María “Muchas Hormigas” (voice, melodica) and Juan Pablo Mazzola (voice, guitar), the duo channels their Argentinian roots and their life together in Valencia into a warm alt-country tapestry. Musically, València is firmly in the alt-country tradition. The duo draws clear inspiration from 1990s Americana — bands like The Jayhawks, Golden Smog, and Soul Asylum are evoked in the gentle guitar picking, the laid-back melodies, and an overall sense of wistful longing. What makes the sound special, though, is how they meld it with domestic intimacy: the production is clean but never sterile, with rich arrangements and tasteful string work (courtesy of Nick Schinder) that elevate the songs without overwhelming their quiet power. If the sound is a cozy morning on a Valencian balcony, the lyrics are the conversation over coffee. Much of the album feels autobiographical: reflections on their life as a couple, the joys and tensions of everyday living, and a deep affection for the city they now call home. In a way, València is a love letter — to each other, and to a place that has shaped them. The lead single, “After the War”, is a standout: it pairs poignant imagery (the two of them sitting on a bench in Foios) with a melody that swells just enough to carry emotional weight, but remains intimate. Recorded and mixed in Valencia (Benimaclet, to be precise) by Paul Candau, the production feels lovingly crafted. The rhythm section is subtle but grounded (Antonio José Iglesias on drums), and the string arrangements add emotional depth without veering into melodrama. Vocally, both María and Juan Pablo shine: her voice is airy yet grounded, his is warm and earnest, and together they strike a balance that feels conversational, not performative. València is not a record that demands to be loud. Rather, it invites you in, asks you to sit quietly, and share a piece of the artists’ life. It’s a mature, thoughtful debut — one that showcases Juan y La Hormiga’s ability to write songs that are deeply personal and yet resonate with a wider sense of place and belonging. For fans of alt-country, intimate duos, or music that feels like a conversation over coffee, València is a refreshing and heartfelt journey. Purchase your copy here: Exile

Tavernes de la Valldigna isn’t just throwing a New Year’s Eve party — it’s detonating one. From December 29 to 31 , Festivern rolls back into town like a turbo-charged Valencian meteor, armed with brass, beats, attitude, and enough collective energy to light up the entire comarca. This isn’t a festival — it’s a ritual. A last stand. The final, glorious blowout before the calendar taps out. And the lineup? Absolutamente salvaje. La Fúmiga return as the patron saints of festive chaos, bringing brass-powered blasts, street-party soul, and that unmistakable “let’s-link-arms-and-jump-until-we-forget-our-names” energy. Right behind them come Fisa FLAWAS, squeezing swagger and accordion fire into a single explosive package. Valencian icons Auxili pull the reggae-ska sun straight into the dead of winter, while The Tyets drop their hyperactive Catalan pop-trap vitamin shot — the kind that makes the whole crowd bounce like it’s a trampoline made of teenagers and fireworks. From the punk trenches, Boikot storm Tavernes with decades of militant attitude, joined by Malifeta , Biznaga , Primavera Valenciana , and Mala Sestión , ready to tear up the last days of the year with adrenaline, distortion, and sweaty communal catharsis. Meanwhile BUNOS keep the alternative flame burning with floor-rattling riffs and that “we’re-here-to-mess-things-up” confidence only rising acts can channel. Then there’s Doctor Prats , the festival’s designated prescription for euphoric chaos. Pep de la Tona and Pep Gimeno “Botifarra” bring the pure, beating heart of Valencian tradition — one voice, one culture, one massive intergenerational hangout under the winter sky. Ska legend Juantxo Skalari & La Rude Band crash the party with street-corner rebellion and stomping 2-tone power, while Sinestà , Jimena Amarillo , Abril , and Reina Mora add the melodic soul, indie sparkle, and lyrical punch that round out Festivern’s eclectic energy. And when the live bands finally burn through their last notes? The night doesn’t end — it mutates. DJ Plan B , DJ Trapella , and the feral Las Hienas DJ Set take over, grinding the crowd into the early hours with basslines so heavy they might actually crack the valley open. Three days. Dozens of bands. Thousands of bodies moving in the cold winter air. Festivern isn’t about closing a year — it’s about blowing it up, dancing on the ruins, and walking into January covered in glitter, sweat, and the smell of gunpowder from the final midnight explosion. If you want pretty fireworks, go to the city.If you want the real New Year’s Eve — loud, muddy, communal, and alive — you go to Tavernes. For tickets are more information: CodeTickets

The Region of Murcia has long since stopped being a “promising newcomer” on Spain’s cultural map. At this point, it isone of the country’s beating creative hearts—and WARM UP Estrella de Levante is a big reason why. After an edition that broke attendance records, pumped millions into the local economy, and reaffirmed Murcia as a powerhouse for live music, the festival is gearing up for another seismic return to La Fica on May 1st and 2nd, 2026. Today, WARM UP kicks things into motion with its first lineup announcement—along with the news that passes are officially back on sale. And this first wave is anything but timid. Think global icons, national heavyweights, and the kind of fresh, boundary-pushing talent that keeps the scene evolving. On deck: Fatboy Slim, Guitarricadelafuente, Carlos Ares, León Benavente, Sanguijuelas del Guadiana, Veintiuno, Las Petunias, Riria, Viva Belgrado, Fukcnormal and Ruptura. Fatboy Slim leads the charge, a giant whose name alone electrifies any festival bill. The big-beat pioneer continues to be a force of nature in 2025, a DJ whose shows feel less like sets and more like spiritual awakenings powered by funky breakbeats, house, acid textures, and pure rave ecstasy. His ability to blur the line between rock swagger and electronic chaos has made him a multigenerational phenomenon—and a guaranteed highlight for #WARMUP2026. Sharing the upper ranks is Guitarricadelafuente, one of the most magnetic voices of his generation. He arrives in a moment of artistic transformation following Spanish Leather, an album that dives deep into Iberian and Latin American folk roots while reimagining tradition through a modern, emotional lens. It’s the sound of an artist levelling up—and Murcia gets him right in the glow of that evolution. The lineup continues with Carlos Ares, a multitalented musician whose introspective new release, La Boca del Lobo, cements him as one of the most distinctive young voices in the national scene. With more than a decade of craft behind him, Ares stands out for his versatility and idiosyncratic creative identity. Also joining the bill: indie-rock titans León Benavente, a band that has been delivering razor-sharp social commentary and explosive live energy since 2012. Their unwavering intensity and genre-blending approach have made them an essential reference point in Spain’s alternative landscape. From the opposite end of the spectrum—but with an equally loyal cult following—come Sanguijuelas del Guadiana, whose raw, distorted folk and visceral aesthetic have turned them into one of the most talked-about revelations of the moment. Their sound, rooted deeply in rural authenticity, feels both ancient and radically new. Rounding out the pop and indie universe are Veintiuno, arriving in full creative bloom, and Las Petunias, a Madrid trio injecting riot-grrrl spirit and jangly electricity into the city’s new indie vanguard. The festival’s electronic pulse expands with Riria, the young artist blending bedroom pop and intimate electronica with an aesthetic that’s already caught international attention—her 2024 Boiler Room Tokyo session racked up over a million views and catapulted her onto everyone’s “next big thing” list. Meanwhile, Córdoba’s Viva Belgrado bring emotional post-hardcore at its purest intensity. With Cancionero de los Cielos, a record that introduces keys, melody, and even a ranchera into their previously progressive formula, the band promises one of the most cathartic performances of the entire festival. On the more experimental end, WARM UP rolls out the rising techno-glitch alchemy of Fukcnormal and the raw, noise-driven punk energy of Ruptura—two names representing the festival’s continuing commitment to underground culture and sonic risk-taking. With this first announcement, WARM UP Estrella de Levante signals another edition packed with surprises, new spaces, and bold artistic proposals. As always, the festival’s impact will ripple far beyond the stages—boosting local hospitality, tourism, and Murcia’s ever-expanding creative ecosystem. Festival passes for May 1st and 2nd are now available from €65.99 (limited quantity) at warmupfestival.es .

If rock ’n’ roll really did die sometime in the mid-70s, then The Smoggers are the grave-robbers who dug it up again, slapped on a fresh coat of necromantic fuzz, and sent the corpse staggering back into the night with a Vox amp strapped to its spine. Their new LP, Fuzz from the Crypt, doesn’t just sound like it crawled out of a coffin—it brings the damn coffin with it, dragging it across the garage floor like a trophy. Drop the needle and the first thing you hear is the unmistakable hum of something not entirely alive: a warm, moldy surge of tube-driven fuzz that feels like you’re being welcomed into a haunted house run by delinquent zombie greasers. The guitars don’t play riffs so much as they vomit shimmering, radioactive grime, while the organ slithers around like a possessed carnival machine that’s long since stopped caring about entertaining children. The vocals? Imagine a chain-smoking phantom who spent its afterlife screaming at teenagers to get off its lawn. Beautiful. Downright therapeutic.Every song feels like a fever dream you had after mixing expired beer with too many episodes of Night of the Living Dead. The Smoggers operate in that holy, unhinged territory where garage-punk becomes religion—a grubby church of distortion, echo chambers, and reverb that sounds like it was recorded in a mausoleum with questionable electricity. And the best part? It works. It shouldn’t, but it does, gloriously, like a Frankenstein monster stitched together from Nuggets-era vinyl and the collective hangover of the last 60 years of underground rock. The album title isn’t metaphorical. You hear the crypt.Dust in the amp sockets.Coffin lids slamming.Bats arguing in the rafters.Every track feels like a séance conducted by people having the time of their lives. Highlights? Impossible to choose. The whole record is one long, delirious séance, a fuzz-smeared joyride through the underworld with The Smoggers grinning like maniacs at the wheel. It’s wild, unpolished, chaotic—in other words, exactlyhow garage-punk is supposed to sound before the world sanitizes everything into algorithm-friendly plastic. If you want your music clean, safe, and certified organic, run. Flee. Hide in a monastery.But if you want the real stuff—the grimy, undying, crypt-fresh spirit of rock ’n’ roll—then open the door, let the undead in, and turn the volume up until the neighbors call a priest. Fuzz from the Crypt isn’t an album.It ’s an exhumation.A resurrection ritual.A fuzz-drenched, skeleton-rattling love letter to the beautiful mess of rock ’n’ roll. And The Smoggers?They’re not just alive.They’re undead and unbeatable. For more information: The Smoggers

If there’s one thing better than starting a new year, it’s starting it by willingly launching your body into a pit of sweaty strangers while Kaos Urbano roars through three decades’ worth of street-punk gospel. On January 9th, 2026 , Rock City won’t just host a concert — it’ll host a political awakening disguised as a fistfight, a communal scream therapy session, a righteous, beer-splattered uprising wrapped in leather and distortion. Kaos Urbano roll into València on their 30th Anniversary Tour , and the posters alone already feel like warning labels: cracked red concrete backgrounds, skull insignias, fists raised like someone replaced your New Year’s resolutions with Molotov cocktails. Thirty years of snarling into microphones, shredding stages, and reminding Spain that punk is a lifestyle, not a nostalgia act. These guys don’t tour — they invade . And Rock City? Poor Rock City. The venerable temple of Valencian rock is about to be turned into an underground bunker full of stomped floors, hoarse throats, and the intoxicating fragrance of sweat, speed, and simmering rebellion. By the time Kaos Urbano hit the stage, the venue lights will tremble like they’re reconsidering their career choices. But the real mischief starts earlier in the night, when A Tercio Paleo storms in like a prehistoric battering ram made of riffs and rage. They sound like someone accidentally resurrected a troop of battle-drunk Iberian warriors, handed them instruments, and whispered: “Play it loud enough to wake the ghosts.” Their set is the kind of raw, feral energy that forces you to question whether you came to a gig or accidentally joined a guerrilla training camp. Perfect warm-up. Or warning shot. By the time Kaos Urbano take command, the place will be boiling: boots thudding, throats shredding, the crowd chanting like a single organism that’s decided democracy can wait until after the encore. Expect classics barked like manifestos, new tracks hurled like bricks through the window of complacency, and a band performing with the kind of hunger you only get after thirty years of refusing to shut up. January 9th. Rock City. València.Kaos Urbano and A Tercio Paleo.Start the year with chaos — the honest kind, the sweaty kind, the kind that leaves your ears ringing and your convictions sharpened. Rolling Stone would tell you this is a must-see.Gonzo journalism tells you this is a mandatory baptism by noise . For more information and tickets: Gazpatxofestcultura

Villena isn’t ready. It never is. Every year the town wakes up, rubs its eyes, and suddenly finds itself hosting the closest thing Spain has to a punk-rock exorcism: the F*ck Censorship Festival — the loudest middle finger to polite society this side of the Pyrenees. And on January 31st, 2026 , as the cold gnaws at your bones and the sun remembers it has better things to do than shine, 5,000 maniacs will pack themselves into the Plaza de Toros Cubierta like a riot waiting for a beat.This year’s lineup? A Molotov cocktail disguised as a poster. Narco are rolling in like the uninvited cousins who drink all your booze and set your shed on fire. Between their industrial beatdowns and Sevillian swagger, expect the place to vibrate like a cathedral possessed. The crowd won’t just move — it’ll convulse. Then the Basque war machines arrive: Segismundo Toxicómano , Kaotiko , and the ever-feral Envidia Kotxina . It’s like someone opened a portal to a punk multiverse where everything smells faintly of petrol and rebellion. Every chorus feels like it was smuggled in past border control, wrapped in barbed wire and bad decisions. Koma will stomp onto that stage like a giant steel boot smashing through the last fragile bits of your eardrums. Pure metallic artillery. No survivors. No apologies. Porretas , meanwhile, will bring that Madrid street-punk warmth — the kind that hugs you, insults you, and hands you a beer in the same breath. Kaos Urbano ? They’re here to start fights with reality itself. If the venue isn’t shaking like a dying washing machine by the end of their set, check your pulse. And then, the wild card: Loncha Velasco — the kind of band name that already sounds like a crime. Expect chaos. Expect sweat. Expect something you’ll have to explain to your therapist someday. This isn’t a festival. It’s a pressure cooker with guitars. A gathering of the ungovernable. A celebration of every scream ever strangled by polite society. The organizers slap “F*ck the Censorship Festival” on the banner, but it might as well read: “Abandon all restraint, ye who enter here.” Tickets started at 29€ + fees — a laughably small price to pay to have your soul sandblasted by power chords and anti-everything anthems. And inside that packed bullring in Villena, where tradition used to demand blood, the only sacrifice will be your voice, your hearing, and your last shred of respectability. January 31st. Villena. F*ck Cnsrshp.Not just a festival — a yearly ritual where Spain tears out its own stitched-up tongue and lets it scream. For tickets and more information: F*CK CNSRSHP

Valencia is about to get a jolt of high-voltage, hyper-stylized rock ’n’ roll. On December 2nd, 16 Toneladas will host The Molotovs—a band whose rise has been propelled by a cocktail of razor-tight riffs, restless energy, and a sleek visual identity that feels equal parts retro cool and modern bite. The promotional artwork for the show says it all: two sharply dressed performers lounging across mid-century chairs, dripping with attitude. Their suits are bright and immaculate, their posture casual but deliberate—a duo radiating the kind of self-assuredness that usually belongs to groups several albums into their careers. Their image isn’t just branding; it’s a manifesto. The Molotovs look like a band ready to steal the spotlight, and onstage they tend to do exactly that. At 16 Toneladas—a venue known for its gritty, sweat-tilted rock shows—the band’s polished aesthetic is likely to collide beautifully with the club’s industrial charm. Expect a set that moves fast: The Molotovs are known for songs that pack melody, punch, and momentum into tight frames, the kind of tracks that feel tailor-made for bouncing crowds and tightly packed dance floors. What truly elevates them, though, is chemistry. Even in a still image, the partnership between the two musicians feels electric. Onstage, that connection manifests through synchronized sharp turns, tightly fused vocal lines, and a rhythmic drive that rarely lifts off the accelerator. Their music channels the tuneful bite of late-’70s new-wave and the precision of early-’00s revival rock, but with a contemporary boldness that keeps it from wandering into nostalgia. If past tours are any indication, fans in Valencia should expect a performance that’s part glamorous spectacle, part garage-pop detonation. The Molotovs don’t just play songs—they attack them, shaping short, kinetic bursts of sound into something that feels like rock’s vital signs coming back stronger. And in a venue as intimate as 16 Toneladas, that force is bound to hit even harder. For tickets and more information: 16 Toneladas

On Friday night, Valencia’s Sala Moon turned into a time machine. Nick Lowe, the venerable British master of pub rock and power-pop, took the stage backed by his inseparable partners, Los Straitjackets—the most charmingly raucous instrumental band you could hope for, all surf-guitar swagger, tight rhythms, and lucha-libre masks adding a splash of theater. From the first chords of “So It Goes,” Lowe set the tone: a slightly more restrained reading than in years past, but dripping with elegance. His voice still carries that mix of vulnerability and conviction that has defined his long, admirable career, and the crowd welcomed him with instant warmth. By the second song, “Went to a Party,” the perfect interplay between his melodic storytelling and the rock-solid pulse of the Straitjackets was already obvious. The setlist dipped deep into his classic catalog—Rockpile staples like “Heart” and “I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock ’n’ Roll)”—interspersed with more recent, contemplative gems from his 2024 album Indoor Safari. Songs such as “Lately I’ve Let Things Slide” and “Love Starvation” proved that Lowe continues to reinvent himself without ever drifting too far from the qualities that made him essential in the first place. Los Straitjackets enjoyed a spotlight moment of their own mid-concert, taking the stage without Lowe for a blistering instrumental double feature: a Ventures-style “Driving Guitars,” followed by a crowd-rousing take on Shocking Blue’s “Venus” that had the room on its feet. It was a burst of pure musicianship that reminded everyone why their sound is so instantly recognizable and joyously addictive. When Lowe returned, the mood shifted toward the intimate and emotional. “Trombone,” “House for Sale,” and “Raging Eyes” showcased his gift for blending country, pop, and soul with disarming simplicity. Then came the hits: “Blue on Blue,” the ever-brilliant “Cruel to Be Kind,” and of course “(What’s So Funny ’Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” which delivered the emotional high point of the night. The finale didn’t disappoint: “Heat of the City” and Rockpile’s beloved “When I Write the Book” wrapped the main set with a mix of nostalgia and celebration. For the encore, the Straitjackets stormed back for “Bird Dance Beat,” with Chris “Sprague” taking the lead—an exuberant, almost carnivalesque closer that sent everyone home grinning. What’s most striking is that at 76, Nick Lowe still radiates a grace and energy most performers half his age would envy. No relic-of-rock theatrics, no indulgent grandstanding—just a man, his guitar, his voice, and the songs that continue to matter. This was a beautifully balanced show: a celebration of a legacy, a nod to fresh material, and above all a demonstration that experience only sharpens the emotional force of great songwriting. At Sala Moon, Lowe and Los Straitjackets didn’t just play—they guided the audience on a compact but unforgettable journey through decades of pop-rock craftsmanship. Words and photos: Rhyan Paul