Molotov delivered its old-school punk rock message in Spanish on Sunday night at the Bluebird. Photos by .
After Sunday nightap show at the , I’ve become obsessed with trying to translate rhymes into Spanish. The problem is that I don’t speak any Spanish. And even if I did, I doubt the rhymes would sound as brilliant as the members of Molotov make them sound.
It turns out that hip-hop, as creative and extreme as it can be in English, is even more exciting in Spanish, and strangely comes across as more aggressive — epecially when itap backed by supercharged, furious and superloud punk rock riffs from Molotov. Arguably Mexico’s most successful recent hard rock export (they’ve been called the Latin response to Rage Against The Machine), the band sports two bassists, a bad ass political-punk/hip hop attitude and a wry sense of humor. They stopped in Denver on what was rumored to be their last tour ever.
Those rumors have thankfully turned out to be greatly exaggerated.
Molotov features Paco Ayala on one loud bass, Miguel Huidobro on another even louder bass, Tito Fuentes on a furious axe and Randy Ebright banging merciless hardcore/hard rock rhythms on the drums (though all the members switched up instruments at different times throughout the show). The band played two thrilling sets of solid, aggressive and genuinely humorous punk/hip-hop/hard rock Sunday night over just about three hours, and the audience never tired or slowed down. Neither did the band.
Sadly, I came in toward the end of their first set (whatever happened to gigs starting late?) just as they were beginning to get into their controversial hit “Puto.” “Puto,” literally translated, comes close to meaning “man-whore” and the song is meant to mock people who can’t, or won’t, stand up for themselves — a tried-and-true theme as warm to aging punk rockers as stage diving and old school slam dancing. Its hip-hop and ‘80s SoCal hardcore crossover sound set the tone for the rest of Molotov’s set list, whipping the crowd into a frenzy and starting a nice-sized swirling mosh pit in no time.
The ensuing intermission only helped to get the crowd even more excited, as the entire venue began chanting “Mo-lo-tov! Mo-lo-tov! Mo-lo-tov!” By the time the band took the stage again, you could feel a frantic anticipation in the air that exploded with the sound of Huidobro’s loud, distorted bass.
The first song of the set (which I didn’t recognize) culminated in the only straight-up drum solo I can remember in the midst of a punk rock show — and it proved Ebrightap tireless talent as a true, frantic rhythmatist. They soon led into “Amatuer,” the band’s cover of Falco’s hit “Rock Me, Amadeus,” made even more ridiculously catchy than the original with huge, Rage-sounding riffs and vocals in lightning-speed Spanish.
From there Molotov blazed through a long second set, offering hits such as “Perro Negro Granjero,” (their mashup of El Tri’s “Perro Negro” and ZZ Top’s “La Grange”), the ballad “Gimme Tha Power” and two songs that push the Rage similarities pretty hard: “¿Por Qué No Te Haces Para Allá?… Al Más Allá” and “Mátate Teté,” as well as more than a few that I didn’t recognize (but that rocked nonetheless).
An old school punk atmosphere resurfaced as they led into “Marciano,” their cover of Misfits’ “I Turned Into A Martian,” the entire house hollering along with the “Whoa-oh-oh!” chorus. This song is a cover that Molotov has completely made their own. It sounds more like traditional Mexican pop than like Misfits — as they have many others. Sunday night they wrapped it up by playing it a second time, this time in true Misfits style.
When they led into their hard-rocking rework of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” called “Rap, Soda and Bohemias,” the crowd appeared to hit their stride and had begun bouncing and moshing in earnest. This, of course, caught the eyes of the Bluebird security staff and at least three people were led out the front door and onto Colfax before it was over (but not before there had been a much larger number of successful stage dives).
Ironically, the show ended with Molotov opening the stage to all the ladies in the house. Within minutes, there were no less that 18 women on the stage with the band, bouncing, popping and gyrating. As the band left the stage one-by-one, they picked girls to take their instruments to keep playing — or banging and strumming, as the case may’ve been. One of these ladies even began hollering the words to “Puto” into the mic with a wide grin on her face, while Ayala polled the audience as to their preference: “ …mas chiches, o culos?!” in a fitting finish with true Molotov punk humor.
Billy Thieme is a Denver-based writer, an old-school punk and a huge follower of Denver’s vibrant local music scene. Follow Billy’s giglist at
is a Denver photographer and a regular contributor to Reverb.
