There is something rather appealing about a song that asks you to stop staring at the person you think you are and wonder what might happen if you looked at yourself from the other side of the mirror. ‘Altre tu’, the latest release from Valencian outfit SUAU, takes that idea and wraps it in a warm, organic pop-rock sound that gradually grows teeth, shifting from moments of calm reflection into something considerably more muscular and guitar-driven. The result is a track with movement. SUAU don't simply settle into one groove and sit there for four minutes; ‘Altre tu’ breathes, stretches and changes direction, moving between atmospheric passages and bursts of rock energy before pulling you back into its more contemplative side. Those changes are what keep the track interesting, and despite running for more than four minutes, it never feels like it is hanging around longer than necessary. At the centre of the song is a deceptively simple question: what if you were somebody else? Not necessarily because you hate who you are, but because changing the angle from which you look at yourself might reveal parts of your personality, instincts and potential that have been hiding in plain sight. It is an idea that gives the song considerably more depth than the usual pop-rock exercise in romantic angst, turning the spotlight inward and asking whether we are actually as awake to ourselves as we like to believe. Musically, SUAU keep things pleasingly organic. The band recorded the track themselves without bringing in a collection of additional production tricks or anonymous studio players, giving ‘Altre tu’ the feel of an actual band playing together rather than a track assembled by committee. Alex Iñigo once again handles the music and lyrics, while Borja Alhoch takes care of the mixing and mastering, keeping the sound polished without stripping away its natural character. And then there are those guitars. Just when the song seems ready to settle into its reflective mood, SUAU push the volume and let the rockier side of their personality through. It gives the track a welcome sense of adrenaline, particularly because the quieter passages have already created enough space for the heavier moments to land properly. The arrangement is meticulous without sounding fussy, and there is a satisfying sense of a band knowing exactly when to hold back and when to let rip. The accompanying video, filmed at the Jardí Botànic de Cullera, is a natural fit for a song obsessed with perspective, identity and reconnecting with something buried beneath the surface. The botanical setting provides a striking visual counterpoint to the music, with César Calabuig once again handling the direction, production and editing after working with the band on their previous release ‘Qui dona més’. What SUAU have created with ‘Altre tu’ is ultimately a song about curiosity — curiosity about the person you are, the person you could become and all the weird little corners of yourself you haven't properly explored yet. It starts in reflection, finds its guitars and eventually gives you a gentle shove towards the exit with the question still hanging in the air: what the fuck are you actually capable of? That is a pretty good question for a rock song to leave behind. You can watch the video here: SUAU

The gloves are off, the amps are waiting and the final place in the Hard Rock Rising Valencia final is now up for grabs. On Wednesday 16 September, Hard Rock Cafe Valencia hosts the third and final qualifying round of this year’s competition, with Protocol Shift, Santonegro and Robert Grayd stepping onto the stage knowing that there is only one thing that matters: win the crowd, win the vote and get yourself into the final. Hard Rock Rising is no ordinary local battle of the bands. It is part of Hard Rock’s global music challenge, designed to put emerging artists in front of new audiences and give them the chance to push their music beyond their home turf. Hard Rock describes the competition as a global stage for the next generation of artists, and with nine bands competing across four nights for one overall winner, the Valencia heats have already delivered plenty of noise, nerves and some seriously enthusiastic audience support. The first two rounds have already produced their finalists. Sita Rizzi came through Round One after an impressive performance and a strong response from the crowd, while Moscow took Round Two after another tight night of live music and audience voting. Now Protocol Shift, Santonegro and Robert Grayd have one last chance to join them. And if the first two rounds are anything to go by, Wednesday night is going to be anything but predictable. The beauty of Hard Rock Rising at Valencia is that the audience isn't simply there to drink, nod politely and wait for somebody else to decide who wins. The crowd has a genuine say in what happens next, and that changes the atmosphere completely. Every band walks onto the stage knowing that the people standing in front of them are effectively part of the judging panel, which gives every performance an extra edge. You can feel the competition building as the night progresses, particularly when the voting opens and suddenly every band has a room full of potential supporters trying to make their case. That has been one of the best things about the Valencia rounds so far. Despite the competitive element, there has been a real sense of community around the whole thing, with fans turning up to support their bands while also getting behind the other acts. The result is less corporate talent-show nonsense and more proper live music night, with the Hard Rock Cafe providing the suitably loud backdrop and the crowd supplying the atmosphere. For Protocol Shift, Santonegro and Robert Grayd, Wednesday is therefore the big one. There is no next qualifying round, no second chance waiting around the corner and no hiding behind the setlist. They have one shot to make an impression, win the audience and collect enough votes to secure that final place. Waiting for them on the other side are Sita Rizzi and Moscow, who have already earned their places in the Hard Rock Rising final on Wednesday 23 September. One more band will complete the lineup, setting up a three-way final that promises to be another seriously lively night at Hard Rock Cafe Valencia. The whole thing has the feel of a proper local music scene moment, too. These competitions can sometimes become overly polished affairs where the personality gets sucked out of the room, but Hard Rock Rising has so far managed to retain the thing that matters most: people playing music in front of other people, with the audience making plenty of noise and having a genuine influence on the result. So, Wednesday 16 September is the night. Protocol Shift. Santonegro. Robert Grayd. One place left in the final. The crowd gets its vote, the bands get their moment and Valencia gets another night of live music with something genuinely at stake. Round Three isn't just another heat. It's the last roll of the dice before the final. For more information: HRC Valencia

The post-punk cult favourites bring their 45th-anniversary tour to 16 Toneladas on September 19, returning to the city where “Nowhere Girl” became a fixture of the Levante nightlife scene. Some records age gracefully, some disappear into the history books, and then there are records that somehow refuse to fucking die. B-Movie's Remembrance Day belongs firmly in that third category, and on Saturday, September 19, the Nottingham post-punk survivors bring the album's 45th anniversary celebrations to 16 Toneladas in Valencia, a venue perfectly suited to a night of dark guitars, angular rhythms and the kind of beautifully melancholic pop that once haunted British clubs and Spanish dancefloors alike. Released in 1981, Remembrance Day became B-Movie's breakthrough, climbing to number 11 in the UK album charts, while its signature single “Nowhere Girl” went even further, reaching number four. In Spain, however, the song developed a life of its own, becoming particularly popular throughout the Levante region and finding a natural home in the country's famously enthusiastic club culture. Forty-five years later, Valencia gets the chance to hear it from the band responsible. There is something fitting about the anniversary landing here. Valencia has always had a soft spot for music that sits somewhere between rock club darkness and the dancefloor, and B-Movie's particular mixture of post-punk tension, melodic pop and electronic touches was tailor-made for that environment. “Nowhere Girl” wasn't simply another British single that happened to cross the Channel; in this part of Spain it became part of the soundtrack, the sort of song that could turn up years after its release and still make an entire room recognise the opening seconds before the first verse had even arrived. That history gives this particular date a little more weight than the standard anniversary tour. There is obviously a substantial nostalgia factor involved in celebrating an album released in 1981, but B-Movie have never really fitted comfortably into the nostalgia-act box. Their music was always too strange around the edges, too atmospheric and too closely connected to the restless post-punk world from which they emerged. The songs still have that tension between darkness and melody that made the early '80s such fertile territory for British alternative music, and “Nowhere Girl” remains an astonishingly durable piece of pop songwriting. For anyone who discovered B-Movie through that track, the 16 Toneladas show offers the chance to hear the wider Remembrance Day story rather than simply waiting for the big single. The album captured a particular moment when punk's aggression was being reshaped into something colder, sharper and more adventurous, with synthesizers and electronics beginning to sit comfortably alongside guitars while bands experimented with how much darkness you could squeeze into a pop song without killing the melody. And then there is 16 Toneladas itself. 16 TONELADAS | ROCK CLUB The Ricardo Micó venue has become one of Valencia's essential live rooms, particularly for artists who don't belong in polished arena environments and whose music works best when there is a sweaty audience standing directly in front of the stage. On a Saturday night, with B-Movie delivering four-and-a-half decades of material in a room built for live music rather than corporate spectacle, the setting should be almost as important as the setlist. There is also something gloriously old-fashioned about the whole proposition. No anniversary holograms, no giant arena production and no desperate attempt to make a 45-year-old record look younger than it is. Just a band, a room, a collection of songs that have survived several generations of musical fashion and an audience that knows exactly why it has turned up. Because Remembrance Day wasn't some disposable artefact from the early '80s. It was a record that helped define a particular strain of British post-punk, while “Nowhere Girl” managed the remarkable trick of crossing from alternative music into mainstream pop without losing its identity along the way. In Valencia and across the Levante, its afterlife was even stronger, which makes this anniversary show feel less like a history lesson and more like a reunion with an old friend who happens to have a good soundtrack. For tickets and more information: 16 Toneladas

The Argentine duo head to Loco Club on October 8 as part of a nine-date Spanish tour, bringing their sharp-edged indie rock, Strokes obsession and growing reputation for a seriously energetic live show to Valencia. There is something almost too perfect about the origin story of Pacífica. In 2021, Argentine musicians Inés Adam and Martina Nintzel met online after finding each other through TikTok and discovering that they shared a mutual obsession with The Strokes. Most internet conversations disappear into the digital swamp within a few minutes; this one turned into a band, several records and an international touring career. Five years later, Pacífica are heading to Valencia, where they will play Loco Club on Thursday, October 8, as part of their nine-date Spanish tour. By then they will already have crossed much of the country, beginning in Valladolid on October 1 and moving through Ourense, Lugo, Sevilla and Granada before arriving in Valencia, with further dates in Oviedo, Madrid and Barcelona following later in the month. The Ourense show has already sold out, which suggests the duo's growing audience is beginning to move considerably faster than the usual indie-band hype cycle. The Strokes influence is impossible to miss, and Pacífica make no attempt to hide it. Their songs are sung in English and built around the kind of bright, economical guitar work that made the New York band's early records so influential, but there are other ingredients in the mix too, with Phoenix and Daft Punk among the reference points that have helped shape their sound. The result is music that feels deliberately cool without becoming precious, combining the swagger of early-2000s guitar rock with the directness and immediacy of a band that understands exactly what it wants to sound like. That comparison with The Strokes is useful as an introduction, but it would be lazy to leave it there. Pacífica have already built a catalogue of their own, releasing Not A Cover Band in 2022, Freak Scene in 2023, the live album Freak Scene (Live) in 2024 and In Your Face! in 2025, alongside the Just No Fun EP. Their most recent single, “End Of Beginning,” arrived in February this year, giving the band another piece of new material to carry into a tour that looks increasingly like a significant step forward. There is also a refreshing lack of hesitation about what Pacífica want to be. They aren't trying to disguise their influences beneath layers of conceptual nonsense, nor are they interested in pretending that guitars have somehow become unfashionable. If anything, they seem to have looked at the current musical landscape, noticed that there is still room for a great riff and a strong chorus, and decided to get on with it. That attitude is particularly apparent in the band's live reputation. Despite their relatively short history, Pacífica have already developed a reputation for an energetic, vibrant show, and their appearance at the Estéreo Parque cycle in Cádiz earlier this year put them on the same bill as HENGE and Holy Fuck. They are now taking that live experience across Spain, with Valencia landing almost exactly in the middle of the tour. For Valencia, the setting is a particularly good fit. Loco Club has long occupied that useful position in the city's music ecosystem where emerging international acts can still get close enough to an audience for the room to matter. With its club-sized atmosphere and reputation as one of Valencia's established live venues, it is a far more appropriate destination for Pacífica right now than some anonymous large-scale venue where the band would disappear behind screens, barriers and acres of empty space. This is a band that belongs in a room where the guitars can do the talking. And there is a good chance that Valencia will be paying particularly close attention. Pacífica are still at that interesting point in a band's trajectory where the audience is expanding but the mythology hasn't yet arrived, which means there is an opportunity to see them before every review starts describing their early Loco Club appearance as some mythical night when everybody in the room supposedly knew they were watching the next big thing. The reality is more interesting. They're simply a young Argentine band with a handful of records behind them, a strong set of influences, plenty of confidence and a growing appetite for the road. Their story began with two musicians exchanging comments about The Strokes on TikTok; now they're travelling across Spain with a catalogue that is increasingly their own. That is quite a journey for a conversation that could easily have been ignored! For tickets and more information: Houston Party Music

The Scottish indie survivors roll into Sala Moon on October 16 with a new album, three decades of songs and enough melodic ammunition to make Valencia forget about whatever the fuck it's supposed to be doing that Friday night. Teenage Fanclub have been around long enough to have watched indie music become a religion, a fashion statement, a punchline, a marketing strategy and eventually something involving TikTok dances and men in bucket hats. Through all of it, they've largely done the same thing: picked up guitars and written ridiculously good songs. And now they're coming to Sala Moon in Valencia on Friday, October 16. No nostalgia circus. No greatest-hits karaoke act desperately pretending it's still 1991. Teenage Fanclub arrive in Spain with a new record under their arm and a catalogue that could flatten most modern guitar bands without breaking a sweat. The timing is particularly tasty. Their thirteenth studio album, Do Not Dare To Dream, lands on October 9 via Merge Records, meaning Valencia gets the band barely a week into the album's life. That's a pretty good position to be in. Because Teenage Fanclub aren't one of those bands wheeled out every few years to play the same old songs to an increasingly nostalgic audience. They're still making records, still touring and still finding new ways to make guitars sound like the best invention since somebody discovered electricity. The story begins in Glasgow in the late '80s, when Norman Blake, Raymond McGinley and their various musical accomplices started building something that sounded simultaneously scruffy, noisy, melodic and gloriously out of step with the prevailing musical weather. Then came Bandwagonesque in 1991. Suddenly Teenage Fanclub were everywhere. “The Concept.” “Star Sign.” “What You Do To Me.” Those songs didn't behave like conventional indie singles. They were loud enough to belong in the alternative-rock trenches but melodic enough to sneak into your head and refuse to leave. The guitars had fuzz, the harmonies had sunshine and underneath everything was a distinctly Scottish melancholy that stopped the whole thing becoming twee. Bandwagonesque became a landmark record and was even named album of the year by SPIN, beating some fairly serious competition. Then came Grand Prix, Songs From Northern Britain and Howdy!, with Teenage Fanclub gradually developing their own peculiar brand of guitar pop: big melodies without arena-rock bullshit, emotional songs without theatrical misery and harmonies that could make even the most cynical bastard crack a smile. The band became one of the great survivors of the '90s alternative explosion precisely because they never seemed particularly interested in playing the game. While everybody else was worrying about being cool, Teenage Fanclub were writing songs. And fucking good ones at that. The current Teenage Fanclub line-up carries that history forward with Blake and McGinley at its core, alongside Euros Childs, Francis Macdonald and Dave McGowan. The new album was recorded at Black Bay Studio on Scotland's remote Great Bernera island, which sounds like exactly the sort of place where a band could escape the noise of the modern music industry and get back to the important stuff: guitars, microphones, melodies and arguing about whether a fucking tambourine is actually necessary. The early tracks from Do Not Dare To Dream suggest there isn't a radical departure waiting around the corner. Nor should there be. “Day In The Sun” and “There Was You” carry the familiar Teenage Fanclub DNA: chiming guitars, layered vocals, bittersweet lyrics and melodies that sound effortless until you try writing one yourself. That's the trick. Teenage Fanclub make this shit sound easy. Adding another layer of Scottish/Welsh indie weirdness to the evening is Euros Childs, the former Gorky's Zygotic Mynci frontman and a seriously underrated songwriter in his own right. Childs joins Teenage Fanclub for the Spanish dates apart from San Fernando and Zaragoza, giving Valencia a double dose of beautifully off-centre British songwriting before the main event arrives. Childs has always occupied his own little corner of the musical universe, somewhere between psychedelic folk, eccentric pop and the kind of songwriting that makes you wonder what was in the tea when the song was written. The Valencia show takes place at Sala Moon, one of the city's established live rooms, with a capacity of roughly 950 people. And that's exactly where this gig belongs. Big enough to create serious noise, small enough that you're not watching the band through a phone screen from three streets away. There is something particularly satisfying about seeing a band with this much history in a room where you can still see the whites of their eyes. Teenage Fanclub don't need a fucking spaceship production. Give them a stage, guitars, drums, microphones and a crowd who knows the words and you've basically got the machinery required. Teenage Fanclub's Spanish tour runs through October, taking in a dozen dates before reaching Valencia and then Barcelona. By the time they arrive at Moon, they'll have already crossed half the country, carrying four decades of musical baggage and a brand-new record that refuses to sit quietly in the luggage compartment. For Valencia, it's a chance to catch one of British indie's great survivors at close range. A band that came through the explosion of alternative rock, survived Britpop, watched grunge disappear, ignored countless musical trends and somehow emerged on the other side still sounding like Teenage Fanclub. Which, frankly, is more impressive than most rock-star reinventions. For tickets and more information: Houston Party Music

There is something wonderfully ridiculous about a New York band writing a love song to Los Angeles, and Rebounder have clearly decided that the best way to deal with this geographical and emotional contradiction is to make a bloody good pop song out of it. ‘Heavenmaxxing’ is the latest taste of the brothers Dylan and Noah Chenfeld’s forthcoming debut album Downtown People, and it arrives sounding like summer has been poured into a cocktail shaker somewhere between Greenpoint and Sunset Boulevard. The track has an effortless, sun-drenched quality that immediately makes sense of the band’s fascination with the West Coast. It is breezy without being lightweight, romantic without disappearing completely up its own arse, and carries that slightly detached New York cool that stops the whole thing becoming another syrupy postcard from California. The Chenfeld brothers started with the title and instrumental before working backwards into the melody and lyrics, and that backwards approach seems to have worked beautifully; there is a loose, instinctive quality to the song, as though the tune wandered into the studio wearing sunglasses and nobody had the heart to ask it to leave. At its heart, ‘Heavenmaxxing’ is a song about longing — for someone, somewhere, perhaps even a version of yourself that exists several thousand miles away. Dylan Chenfeld describes it as being about the peculiar experience of being a musician in New York who loves Los Angeles and, inevitably, ends up falling in love in Los Angeles too. That gives the song a nice emotional tension: it might sound relaxed, but underneath the West Coast shimmer there is a bloke staring out of a window wondering whether he should get on a plane. Rebounder’s wider musical world is equally interesting. Their debut Downtown People pulls from the history of New York music while throwing Sky Ferreira and Lykke Li into the same blender as Dire Straits, with literary influences including Don DeLillo and Bret Easton Ellis lurking somewhere in the background. The result is an indie sound that is polished and colourful without sanding away the rough edges of city life. That contrast is what makes ‘Heavenmaxxing’ work. It is glossy enough to soundtrack a late-night drive along the Pacific Coast Highway, but there is enough melancholy underneath to remind you that somebody is probably still waiting for a text message. And that seems to be very much the territory Rebounder are exploring across Downtown People: breakups, new romances, missed connections, city life, ambition, nostalgia and the strange business of trying to build a meaningful existence while everything around you gets faster, stranger and considerably more expensive. Written, recorded and produced by Dylan and Noah in their Greenpoint studio, the record has the advantage of being unmistakably their own creation, despite a handful of contributions from friends and collaborators. ‘Heavenmaxxing’ feels like a particularly strong example of that self-contained approach: stylish but not sterile, catchy without begging for attention, and packed with enough atmosphere to make you want to hear where the rest of the album goes. If this is the direction Downtown People is heading, Rebounder may have stumbled onto something rather special: music for people who want the glamour of the city, the fantasy of somewhere else and the nagging suspicion that the grass is probably greener because somebody has put a very good filter on it. ‘Heavenmaxxing’ is laid-back, lovestruck and effortlessly cool — a little slice of California dreaming made by two New Yorkers who apparently know that sometimes the best place to escape from the city is inside a three-minute pop song. To find out more: Rebounder

There are concerts where the band plays the songs and the audience watches. Then there are Saratoga concerts, where the line between stage and crowd gets thoroughly smashed somewhere between the first guitar riff and the first massive singalong. On Saturday night, 12 September, Madrid heavy metal veterans Saratoga brought their En Estado Puro tour to Sala Moon Valencia and found a Valencia crowd more than ready to give them everything they had. The show was part of the band's current En Estado Puro tour, with the set built around three acts: essential classics, requested and less frequently played material, and songs from the band's newer era. From the opening moments, this was a band completely in command of the room. Tete Novoa is a born frontman, constantly working the crowd rather than simply standing behind a microphone and delivering the lines, while bassist and founding member Niko del Hierro supplied the muscular low-end foundation that has been at the heart of Saratoga since their formation. Behind them, Arnau Martí attacked the drums with the precision and force the songs demand, while Charlie Parra tore into the guitar parts with the kind of playing that makes you wonder whether his fingers have some sort of private agreement with the laws of physics. The current line-up combines decades of Saratoga history with musicians who bring plenty of their own personality to the machine. Saratoga have never been short of material capable of making a metal crowd lose its collective mind, from the aggression of “Vientos de Guerra” and “A Morir” to the towering melodies of “Si Amaneciera”, the relentless attack of “Perro Traidor” and the classics that have followed the band throughout their career. Agotarás, in particular, remains a monster of Spanish heavy metal, the 2002 album marking a crucial point in the band's history and helping establish the sound and identity that would carry them into the biggest stages of their career. What made the Valencia show work so well, however, wasn't simply the strength of the setlist. It was the conversation between band and audience. Novoa repeatedly handed the room its opportunities to respond, and Moon responded loudly, with fists in the air, voices coming back from the floor and the kind of collective participation that makes a club show feel considerably bigger than the building containing it. There was a real sense of community in the room, too. Saratoga have been part of the Spanish metal landscape for more than three decades, and you could feel that history in the audience. Some people had clearly been following the band for years, while others were discovering the current incarnation of Saratoga at full volume. Either way, nobody had turned up to stand quietly in the corner. The band gave them absolutely no excuse to. Moon is particularly well suited to this kind of night. It's a proper club environment, close enough for the audience to see the musicians working and loud enough to feel every kick drum and guitar riff somewhere in your internal organs. Saratoga used every inch of it, turning the venue into a sweaty, noisy meeting point for Spanish heavy metal and leaving very little oxygen between the stage and the crowd. And that is perhaps the best way to describe Saratoga live: there is no museum glass around the history. These aren't musicians simply reproducing songs because somebody bought a ticket to hear them. The old material still has teeth, the newer songs fit naturally alongside it, and the whole thing is driven by a band that clearly understands why these songs have stayed with people for so long. After more than 30 years, Saratoga still sound like they have something to prove, and that is exactly why the Valencia crowd responded so strongly. They came for the songs, stayed for the performance and spent the night giving the band as much back as they were receiving. Moon was loud. Saratoga were louder. Valencia sang along. That's heavy metal doing exactly what it is supposed to do. Words and photos: Rhyan Paul

There are guitar players who become famous, guitar players who become legends, and then there are guitar players like Cheetah Chrome, who helped make the whole fucking thing dangerous in the first place. The Dead Boys have announced the passing of their beloved friend and bandmate, a man they rightly describe as a true original and one of the architects of the punk rock movement. For those who heard that first savage blast of American punk in the 1970s, Chrome wasn't simply another guitarist in another band; he was part of the machinery that helped tear rock'n'roll away from the stadium dinosaurs and throw it back into the clubs, basements and filthy little rooms where it belonged. Born Eugene Richard O'Connor, Chrome came out of Cleveland's extraordinary underground music scene alongside Rocket From The Tombs, a band whose influence would eventually prove vastly greater than its brief existence suggested. Alongside the likes of David Thomas and Peter Laughner, Chrome was involved in creating a sound that was raw, confrontational and gloriously unstable, laying some of the groundwork for what would become American punk before most of the world had even worked out what punk was supposed to be. Then came The Dead Boys, and suddenly the blueprint had a face, a leather jacket and a guitar turned up far too loud. Together with Stiv Bators, Johnny Blitz, Jimmy Zero and Jeff Magnum, Chrome helped create one of the great monsters of early punk. The Dead Boys arrived in New York from Cleveland and quickly became part of the infamous CBGB scene, where subtlety was rarely the first item on the agenda. Their 1977 debut, Young, Loud and Snotty, remains one of those records that still sounds slightly dangerous when you put it on today, nearly five decades later. At the centre of it was “Sonic Reducer”, the song Chrome co-wrote with Peter Laughner during the Rocket From The Tombs era before the Dead Boys turned it into one of the defining anthems of American punk. That riff remains one of the great guitar statements of the period: stripped down, vicious and impossible to ignore, carrying the kind of attitude that made a generation of young musicians realise they didn't need permission to start a band. They just needed a guitar, an amplifier and something to say. The Dead Boys were never built for a long, comfortable ride, and their original career was brutally short, but the music they left behind refused to disappear. Chrome's guitar playing became part of the DNA of countless punk, garage and alternative bands that followed, while the Dead Boys' songs continued to sound gloriously out of place in a world that had become increasingly polished and predictable. Yet the official Dead Boys statement today makes an important point that can sometimes get lost when somebody's life is reduced to a list of bands, records and legendary stories. Behind the feral guitar riffs and manic energy, they say, Cheetah was a really sweet guy who loved rock'n'roll. That is perhaps the most fitting description of all, because beneath the mythology, the leather, the noise and the history was a musician who simply loved the music enough to spend his life chasing it. Chrome's journey was far from easy. Like many musicians from that generation, he fought his own battles with addiction and the darker side of the lifestyle that surrounded early punk, but he survived experiences that might have finished many others and continued to make music. His later years weren't about pretending the past hadn't happened; they were about carrying it forward while continuing to play, write and tell the stories of a life spent dangerously close to the amplifier. That resilience matters. So does the fact that Chrome continued to have something to say about the music and the world that produced it. He didn't simply become a photograph from 1977, permanently frozen beneath the lights of CBGB. He remained a working musician and a living connection to one of the most important periods in rock history, watching successive generations discover the same songs that had once sounded like a transmission from another planet. And perhaps that is why the news hits so hard. Punk has always had a strange relationship with mortality. The movement was built by people who seemed determined to behave as though tomorrow didn't exist, yet its music has survived almost everything that was thrown at it. The clubs disappeared, the clothes became fashion, the attitude became advertising and the records became collector's items, but somewhere underneath all that commercial archaeology, the original noise remained. Cheetah Chrome was one of the people who made that noise. He was there when the walls were still shaking, when the rules were being rewritten with a broken bottle rather than a committee meeting, and when a three-minute song could feel like a direct threat to the entire establishment. His contribution wasn't polished, respectable or designed to fit neatly into a history book. It was loud, confrontational, funny, dangerous and completely alive. That guitar still comes roaring out of the speakers with the same sense of barely contained violence, carrying with it the sound of Cleveland, New York, CBGB, Rocket From The Tombs, the Dead Boys and an entire generation that decided rock'n'roll had become far too comfortable and needed somebody to kick the fucking door open. Cheetah Chrome didn't just play punk rock. He helped build part of it. The Dead Boys have asked for privacy for his family, friends and fans around the world at this difficult time, while paying tribute to a man whose music will continue to inspire generations to come. That isn't simply the usual language of an obituary; in Chrome's case, it is a statement that can be tested every time an amplifier gets turned up and some young band decides that three chords, a furious riff and an unhealthy disregard for convention might still be enough to change somebody's life. For that, and for everything that came with it, we owe him. Godspeed, Cheetah. The boys may be getting older, but the noise you helped create isn't going anywhere..... Photograph: Rhyan Paul

There are gigs where you stand politely at the back and watch a band perform, and then there are nights like Thursday at El Café in Carcaixent, where the distance between stage and audience disappears somewhere around the second chorus and suddenly everybody in the room appears to have joined the band. Midnight Train Trio rolled into El Café with Will McCarthy on guitar and vocals, Stefano Cecchi on trumpet and Rafa Arriaza on electric bass, armed with a suitcase full of blues, rock’n’roll and classic songs from the 1950s and 60s. What followed was a glorious little musical time machine, with a packed room singing along, drinking, laughing and generally behaving as though someone had secretly announced that Thursday was actually Saturday. And nobody seemed particularly keen to correct them. The trio's choice of covers was spot-on, digging into the great roots of blues and rock’n’roll without turning the evening into some stiff museum-piece exercise. These are songs that have survived for decades because they still work, and Midnight Train Trio clearly understand that the trick isn't simply to reproduce them but to have some fun with them. McCarthy's guitar provided the engine, shifting comfortably between bluesy warmth and rock’n’roll swagger, while Cecchi's trumpet added a beautifully smoky edge to the sound. Arriaza's bass kept the whole operation moving underneath it all, giving this three-piece considerably more weight than you might expect from the name on the poster. But there was something else happening in the room that couldn't be rehearsed. The crowd was completely into it! People weren't simply standing around watching the band; they were singing along, clapping, joining in and providing their own unofficial backing vocals. By the middle of the set, El Café had developed the slightly chaotic feeling of a very well-organised party, which is pretty much the highest compliment you can give a live music venue. And then there is Enric, the owner of El Café, whose enthusiasm for music has helped turn the venue into an increasingly important part of the local scene. El Café isn't an enormous concert hall and doesn't pretend to be one. It doesn't need giant video screens, pyrotechnics or enough lighting equipment to guide aircraft into Valencia Airport. What it does have is atmosphere, proximity and a genuine connection between the musicians and the people standing a few metres away. That is the magic of the place. On Thursday, you could feel the local character of Carcaixent running through the evening. Musicians, regulars, friends, neighbours and curious newcomers all ended up sharing the same small space, and Midnight Train Trio fitted into that environment perfectly. There was no great distance between performer and audience, no sense of watching something happening somewhere else. The band played, the crowd responded, the crowd sang, the band responded to that, and suddenly the whole thing had developed a life of its own. At various points, El Café felt less like a café and more like a tiny rock’n’roll club that had somehow been transported from another decade and accidentally parked in the middle of Carcaixent. Which, frankly, is exactly what you want from a Thursday night. Midnight Train Trio brought the songs. Enric provided the room. The crowd provided the chorus. And judging by the noise coming from El Café, nobody was in any particular hurry to catch the last train home!

There are songs about becoming a parent, and then there are songs that actually understand the beautiful, sleep-deprived, emotionally fucked-up reality of it. Wild Oceans’ “Losing Myself” sits firmly in the second category, capturing that strange moment when your entire world changes overnight and you suddenly realise that the person you were yesterday isn't quite the person you've become today. Recorded at John Cornfield’s home studio in Cornwall, the track carries an appropriately intimate feel, matching its deeply personal subject matter. Rather than reaching for the obvious sentimental buttons, Wild Oceans tap into the emotional rollercoaster of becoming a first-time parent — the love, the fear, the exhaustion, the exhilaration and that slightly terrifying sensation of watching your old identity disappear beneath a mountain of nappies, responsibility and unconditional love. “Losing Myself” works because it understands the contradiction at the heart of becoming a parent: you can feel like you're losing yourself while simultaneously discovering an entirely new version of who you are. It's messy, confusing and occasionally overwhelming, but there is something hugely liberating about admitting that rather than pretending you've got the whole fucking thing figured out. The Cornwall recording setting adds another layer of warmth to the track, with Cornfield's reputation for capturing honest, characterful performances making the home-studio environment feel like exactly the right place for a song this personal. There's no grandstanding here, just an honest confrontation with one of life's biggest changes. “Losing Myself” is vulnerable without being mawkish, reflective without disappearing up its own arse, and ultimately hopeful without pretending that parenthood is some Instagram-filtered walk through a field of daisies. Sometimes you don't find yourself by knowing exactly who you are. Sometimes you find yourself by admitting you've changed. Wild Oceans have turned that realisation into one hell of a song. For more information: Wild Oceans

The summer is running out of road, the nights are getting darker and Valencia's La Marina is already beginning to look like a very dangerous place to be standing still. Love To Rock 2026 is almost here, with just weeks to go before the festival takes over the waterfront on 2 and 3 October. And this year's musical artillery is looking seriously tasty. Lori Meyers, Fangoria, Carolina Durante, Iván Ferreiro, Zahara, Shinova and Biznaga headline a bill that manages to jump effortlessly between indie rock, pop, punk, electronic madness and everything in between, with Santero y Los Muchachos, Sienna, Los Invaders, Vera Fauna, La Milagrosa, Puño Dragón, Hoonine, Calivvla and plenty more adding fuel to the weekend. This is Love To Rock doing what Love To Rock does best: taking over the maritime playground of La Marina de València and turning it into two days of guitars, sweat, dancing, food, beers and the kind of glorious musical chaos that makes perfect sense when you're standing beside the Mediterranean with a festival wristband digging into your arm. The organisers aren't selling this as just another weekend of bands either; music, gastronomy, culture and the waterfront setting are all part of the experience. And then there's the food. Love To Rock's Love Food Experience brings chefs and live cooking into the mix, because apparently surviving two days of loud music now requires considerably more than a warm beer and a packet of crisps. There are also dedicated family activities, DJs and plenty happening away from the main stages, making this one of those festivals where disappearing for an hour can result in discovering something you didn't even know was happening. But let's not bullshit ourselves: we're here for the music. We're here for Lori Meyers. We're here for Fangoria. We're here for Carolina Durante. We're here for Biznaga. We're here for Iván Ferreiro and Zahara, and we're here for every band lower down the bill that could potentially walk onto a stage in La Marina and kick the weekend sideways. With the countdown now properly underway, the message is simple: sort your tickets, sort your mates and start preparing your liver. Because on 2 October, Love To Rock opens its doors. Two days. One waterfront and a ridiculous amount of music! For tickets and more information: Love To Rock

Hard Rock Rising round two rolled into Hard Rock Cafe Valencia on Wednesday night with three very different bands, a packed venue and an audience clearly prepared to take its voting responsibilities very seriously. City Of Fury, Moscow and Horrorwolf walked into the ring knowing that only one of them would walk out with a ticket to the final, and by the time the last note had disappeared into the ceiling, the margin between winning and going home was about as thin as you could get. The place was rammed with fans, friends, supporters and curious punters, creating exactly the kind of atmosphere a competition like this needs. There was noise, encouragement, plenty of nervous energy and, most importantly, genuine support for all three acts. This wasn't three bands playing to a half-empty room while their mates stared at their phones; this was a proper Valencia crowd getting behind the music and making the whole thing feel like something was actually at stake. City Of Fury opened the evening in an unexpected but seriously effective fashion, stripping things back to a two-piece acoustic performance that somehow managed to sound bigger than a full band. Their classic Britpop influence was all over the set, delivering melodic hooks, familiar guitar territory and that unmistakable British knack for making melancholy sound bloody brilliant. It was an assured opening move, and rather than trying to bludgeon the room into submission, City Of Fury won people over the old-fashioned way: good songs, good playing and a performance that felt completely natural. Then came Moscow, and the volume knob got a serious workout. Their hard-rock indie sound brought a different kind of muscle to the evening, pushing the energy level up without losing the melodic side of their music. There was attitude, there was swagger and there was enough guitar to keep the Hard Rock Cafe faithful perfectly happy. Moscow looked like a band who understood exactly where they were and what they needed to do, taking the competition element seriously without allowing it to swallow the performance. And then Horrorwolf arrived to drag the evening somewhere considerably darker. Their goth-and-roll sound provided the night's biggest change of direction, bringing a brooding, theatrical edge to a competition that had already covered plenty of musical ground. Horrorwolf weren't interested in blending into the background; they brought their own atmosphere, their own aesthetic and their own version of rock 'n' roll to the party. It was a bold third act, and by this point the audience had been given three completely different reasons to pick up their phones and vote. And that's what made the result so bloody difficult. All three bands delivered. There was no obvious weak link, no band that looked like it had wandered onto the wrong stage and no easy winner waiting to be crowned. The voting was seriously tight, with the packed room having to choose between three acts offering completely different musical propositions. In the end, Moscow took Round Two. They now join Sita Rizzi, winner of Round One, in the Hard Rock Rising final, with one more finalist still to emerge from next week's third and final qualifying round. The competition then heads towards the September 23 final, where Valencia's eventual champion will get the chance to progress into the wider international Hard Rock Rising competition. But for one night, this wasn't about global prizes, recording opportunities or what happens further down the road. It was about three bands walking onto a stage in Valencia, playing their guts out and asking a packed room to decide who deserved another shot. City Of Fury brought the Britpop. Moscow brought the hard-rock indie punch. Horrorwolf brought the goth and roll darkness.The audience brought the votes. Moscow brought home the win. Round Two: done. Round Three is next. And judging by the atmosphere inside Hard Rock Cafe Valencia, nobody should expect an easy ride to the final. You can check out Moscow here: Spotify For more information: Hard Rock Cafe Valencia