Somos la Herencia have released their new work just before the apocalypse. “Dolo” (Humo Internacional, 2020), a debut album with which they cease to be one of the best-kept secrets of the Spanish underground to become a reality.

Dolo is called to be the BSO of a time. Hard as a cobblestone sandwich, singing to grief, regrets and rawness wrapped in a packaging as aggressive as dark; halfway between the urgency of post-punk, the most experimental contemporary electronics, the most atmospheric dark-wave, a witch house with the most pop vocation and a sort of rock hypnosis straddling performance and ritual, they manage to make rock from cables, and experimental electronics from rock culture; approaching a frame as minimalist regarding sound design as maximalist regarding punk abrasion.

The track for their new video “Hombres Libres” is in some way a crouching tension, a strange collision between body and time. It is a look that one returns to oneself in which you find something that you remember, something that you have already lost. The lyrics for this song are a kind of obsessive litany, perhaps frustrated, about the disappointment of not fully recognizing oneself; an obsessive mantra that, for that very reason, becomes a desperate attempt to find an answer, perhaps a small cure, an attempt to find a balance in unconscious, uncontrolled repetition.

The video gathers all this and crafts images to this drive, to the contradiction between the attempt to flee and the need to embrace that which persecutes you, the mystery that pounces on you without being able to stop it; like when you are sad and you want to fight it – you fight it until you understand that nothing happens, that you need to go through that pain. I am sad, but not bad.

The video uses much of the aesthetic imagery of ‘Dolo’, with the golden jug as a magical entity that symbolizes the protagonist’s obsession, and the red and corrupt arm that, however threatening, comes nevertheless to bring reality back. Hands and water, as possibilities of healing. Accept the daily war.