La Resistencia

Eclectica Records

Eh-Pe, the debut of Los Angeles skankers La Resistencia, roars with the noise native to young Latinos exiled in the nether cities between Los Angeles and Orange County—chugging, ruthless, socially conscious punk-inflected ska that paints a life landscape as bleak as Cudahy. The nonet rumble through the EP's six songs, each an urgent musical manifesto pulsing with taunting call-and-response horns, scuzz-bucket drums, trembling cymbals, and churning wacka-wacka guitars that sometimes scream with distortion. Whether warning against the rapists among us (“Carlos el Violador”), decrying racism against Latinos in “Madre Patria” or wailing against a broken love, Eh-Pe's charges are so relentless you half-expect a mosh pit to spill from the speakers and give you a good kick in the head. The slower tracks seethe with joy: the Huggy Boy-smokes-ganja kickback jam “Domingo 7” is the “Get a Job” for our post-industrial age, its protagonist complaining about the need for money and a job in order to impress a girl. Such real-life difficulties become painfully real courtesy of lead singer Luís' pushy, mocking voice; he clips his yowls with the snap of a Chicano studies major. You'll find the most effective use of that style on “Odio,” by turns a violent, languid bass-driven rant against adults who ignore the kids around them. After listening to Eh-Pe, you won't know whether to pump your arms and dance or actually do something to save the world.

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