They carry the essence of their name—bold, rustic, and lyrical—while their songs drift between emotional weight and a vivid sense of fashion. This piece guides readers through different landscapes of Spanish geography, tracing a new album that blends century-old Castilian folk poetry with a contemporary sound. David Ruiz executes voice and guitar, and he answers a phone in the middle of a traffic jam, a moment that captures the band’s life on tour.
Is this album the result of a pending issue with a source?
When they were younger, the band members often rejected tradition as something linked to older generations. They avoided it for years, chasing English-language music from the United States around 2011. Over time, they began to reconnect with their roots. In 2017, the first step was taken with the track Campo Amarillo from the Salvavida project. The current album emerges from a deliberate return to a long-standing oral tradition and its living, breathing influence.
Have they rediscovered themselves through this process?
It felt like visiting grandparents’ attic and finding a box of memories left unspoken—a window into who they came from and who they are becoming. The experience allowed the band to understand their origins more fully and to align their music with those roots while still speaking in the present.
Adding a modern twist to Burgos traditions should be enjoyable.
That modern twist is at the heart of their creative mission. The group believes art should inspire, move, or entertain. Without that spark, they would likely choose a different path. They feel fortunate to work with music and to engage with these texts, finding the process deeply moving.
This emotional charge gives the album a distinct tone compared with earlier work. How do live audiences react?
Many listeners assume the band is primarily a party group because of the name and the lively cadence of early tracks. Yet the band relishes the contrast between the cheerful sounds of accordion, mandolin, and banjo and lyrics that are reflective, even somber. The record sits comfortably within their broader repertoire, and the aim is not mere entertainment. The musicians want to share genuine feeling and perspective through their songs.
Was the recording location—Black Box, a remote studio in the French countryside—chosen to pursue a sense of rural mysticism?
Initial plans involved working with Steve Albini, known for stark, raw sounds with bands like Nirvana. A collaboration with Albini was explored during an earlier project, but it became clear that his approach wouldn’t suit this album. The team chose to record at Black Box after a search that led to Jordi Mora as the sound engineer and Gorka Urbizu, with whom they had previously collaborated in production. The goal was a straightforward, unpolished acoustic character rather than a glossy electric sound. No dramatic tale is needed here, just a choice that felt right for the material.
Do they feel they are escaping the noise of the music industry?
Ten days of isolated recording in France provided a focused atmosphere, a deliberate departure from mainstream distractions. Like any group, they search for an authentic identity. The album leans into lyrics that reach back more than a hundred years, bringing surprises and challenges. They maintained faith in the process, and the results resonated with supporters from various parts of Spain, who connected with the stories at the core of the songs. That response was meaningful rather than negative.
How does self-management shape their work?
There are seven members, and decisions can feel chaotic, whether it’s agreeing on the album cover or timing a tour announcement. Yet every discussion centers on the work and its meaning. The chaos is part of a collaborative culture, where each member contributes to the ultimate goal: engaging the audience on stage and delivering a shared experience that feels true.