The Mediterranean 20jazzfunkgreats scribe has learned to ignore his brother’s recommendations at his own peril. They tend to be made in rather terse terms, in this case, ‘you should check out Pony Bravo. Perhaps you’ll think they are fucking shit, but maybe you’ll like them’.

Needless to say, the tips tend to be top, and also stuff that we would probably not have stumbled upon otherwise. Pony Bravo hail from Seville, and their album Gramo de Fe (that you can download from here if you are so inclined, which you should – or even better, pay up) is one of those strange, seductive beasts, that spawn and thrive in the borderland, mongrel spaces under a killer sun.

The general vibe is seventies, through Jess Franco’s lurid z-series lens. A band of outsiders arrives in a kludgy van (faded butterfly airbrushed on the side) to this club in the outskirts of a whitewashed town. There’s something to be said for compression, an insufficient division of nocturnal labour that brings all the local freaks under one disreputable roof, like Twin Peaks’ Roadhouse: bloated whore-hounding oligarchs and their coke-addled law enforcement henchmen, homesteaders of the Spanish hippie diaspora in bellbottom corduroys, a wild-eyed prog flamenco wiz kid smoking hashish in a corner.

They sip on sweet beer and sour wine, staring at the musicians as they set up in the etiolated stage.

They take their time.

And then it begins. Strange things happen in wicked places.

Pony Bravo – La Rave de Dios

La Rave de Dios deploys that venerable kraut punk riddim with the verve of Oneida or Measles Mumps Rubella, percussive elements flow in a psychedelic progression that would have been endorsed (and if given a chance, taken to a different – although not necessarily better level) by the DFA production squad circa 2006.

Add a religious twist, vocalist Daniel Alonso swirling like the sleazy reverend of a fringe cult, goading his followers towards an eschatological destination worthy of Hyeronimus Bosch/Nick Cave/Roberto Bolaño: “God’s very own rave, somewhere in a derelict tent in the Wichitan wasteland where the believers burn in the purifying fire of the sacred dance, after scoring a gram of faith”.

Thunder claps like the guitar & tabla coda of a flamenco jam carried out by invisible powers. Now that’s our kind of rapture.

We continue our Southern tour with Linda Mirada, latest recruit in wonderful Discoteca Océano, which we are bringing you today in an Altered Zones joint venture.

In the Fabuloso San José EP (stream) she leaves all the chillwave debutantes biting the dust in that imaginary race towards a wooden arcadia of teenage heartbreak & mumbled emoting without having to leave her bedroom, where she does a perfectly choreographed dance to an irrefutable string of trad Spanish & Euro 1980s Lo NRG pop gems.

It comes with sweet remixes by Nite Jewel, Ruby Suns, Sabore Bicoro and our personal favourite, Part Time, who projects her into the stage of an uncorrupted Eurovision competition to boogie her way gently across throbbing sheets of disco ball silver.

Linda Mirada – Tokyo (Part Time Remix)

Epilogue -
This post is tagged with Discoteca Oceano