As a music listener whose musical upbringing was shaped by Motörhead, it is hard to like songs that don't kick off within 15 seconds, wrap up after three minutes, and feature a chorus that puts a smile on your face. That was the reality in 1981, when I was 15 years old. Ten years later—with the rise of grunge and the first wave of alternative bands—a 15-year-old would find themselves with a completely different musical compass. And if you happened to be 15 in 2001, you had a choice between upbeat punk—which, much like pop music, tends to lose its appeal after a couple of years—and the concurrent nu-metal wave. Yet 2001 also saw the first psychedelic bands crawling out of their rehearsal spaces, destined to become fixtures at alternative and stoner rock festivals throughout the following decade. And then I receive an email from David—the singer of Epiroscopo, a band from Málaga—describing to me how this record came to be. After multiple listens, the album develops a unique magic of its own—one that can be attributed to its diverse musical leanings, yet remains ultimately indefinable. Despite its elaborate production, the record sounds like a demo—one into which a charismatic voice breathes warmth, overcoming the inherent angularity of the songs. No specific chorus sticks in your head; rather, it is the atmosphere of the music that lingers. This is something only music can achieve: transcending all boundaries of thought and resolving contradictions into a harmonious whole. This album reminds me of the first time I heard Dead Moon—a band whose raw drive and fragile song structures seemed, at first glance, utterly incompatible. Yet, even after more than thirty years, their songs remain as fresh as if they had just been born in the rehearsal room. To bring things full circle: with their compositions and the atmosphere of their songs, Periscopio is well on its way to becoming the legitimate successor to Dead Moon within the Spanish music scene.
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