The year 2000, for those that don’t remember, was a noisy one. It began with the fireworks of a new millennium and ended with George W. Bush swiping the presidential election and dismantling the optimistic innocence that had accompanied any sense of a fresh start. Then 2001 got even noisier, and we haven’t looked back since. Halcyon days.
This chaotic (but in retrospect, actually quite decent compared to what followed) micro-era of the 21st century comes flooding back in the new video from Mexico City’s Nelson y Los Filisteos, whose aptly-named “2000” evokes the heady verve of that year in its sense of freedom and lack of cohesion. It conducts itself amid a barrage of burning guitars and thrashing snares as our man (Nelson, presumably) careens around a mountain landscape of mind-boggling width and spectacular vistas. Shot by aerial drone (the giveaway that, in fact, this is not the year 2000), it’s one of the most aesthetically-striking videos we’ve seen in a while, even if the director’s instructions seemingly stopped at: “OK, I’ve set up the camera. Now, run around and do some funny shit!”
Led by Alonso Mangosta, Nelson y Los Filisteos formed in Guadalajara in 2012, from where they released debut EP Pacto de Sangre, before heading for the capital’s gold-paved streets. The band (Alonso on guitar and vocals, Zuri Basuri on guitar, Ulises San Pan on bass, and Sharon Lunch on drums) describes its sound as “hyper-violent pop of post-futuristic tendency,” which most commonly translates as agitated garage rock.
In October 2015, Nelson y Los Filisteos released their first album Tibio. Songs such as “Horizonte” and “Golosinas y Moda” capture the sense of enraged release that permeates modern youth culture in Mexico and beyond, while an inherent sense of playfulness aligned to Alonso’s sneering vocals evokes a young Iggy Pop. With other tunes like “T-DCO,” clocking in at a colossal 58 seconds, there is scope for the likes of “El Cloro y El Cian” to expand into a flurry of reverb-soaked guitar and driving basslines. Tibio is far more searing than its deliberately ironic title suggests.
To buy Tibio, check out Nelson y Los Filisteos’ Bandcamp page.