Allow me to let you in on something: not only is Estopa the band that made music great for me, but after 10 long years, they remain far and above my favourite band.
Unfortunately, the Anglocentric nature of the global music scene has left them sidelined, since they sing almost exclusively in Spanish, and only very occasionally in Catalan. Hopefully, this article will shine a light (even if only a small one) on the band that shaped my love of music.
Estopa is a duo comprised of brothers David and José Muñoz from Cornellà de Llobregat in the Province of Barcelona, and debuted in 1999 with the eponymous LP Estopa. Drawing from both their Extremaduran roots and Catalonian upbringing, their sound is a unique blend of rock, pop, flamenco and Catalonian rumba.
Heavily influenced by Spanish songwriting greats like Joaquín Sabina and Joan Manuel Serrat, the band’s profound and versatile lyricism is rich and fulfilling. They can cover any topic under the sun, from cheerful or trivial observations about ordinary life to addiction, death, heartbreak and depression. And yet, every song is equally poetic.
For instance, ‘Vino Tinto’ (Red Wine) is a catchy love song that plays with the metaphor of ageing wine. It represents how the initial butterflies of being in a relationship feel overstimulating, but that time permits emotional connections to build: “I’m like a red wine, because if you drink me cold I’m deceiving, and with age I become smarter.” I still fondly remember the long summers in Spain, singing along to this CD for hours in the car with my mum, and every time I revisit this song, I find a new angle to the lyrics. They prove that catchy pop truly can be lyrically interesting, even when lacking profundity.
However, that is not to say they don’t have profound lyrics. ‘Sin Sombrero’ (Without a Hat) grapples with death and the afterlife, but how it could potentially feel empty and underwhelming: “Without a hat, without wearing anything fancy, he showed up to Heaven. He just wanted to make sure not everything is Hell[.] Prisoner. In the end, it turned out to be a prison.” The brothers describe heaven as “a cell made from blocks of ice” where “everything is so perfect,” but sarcastically. This is a song that is hard to pick apart and understand, but from the lyrics and the melody, there is something unsettling about the heaven they present that deserves as much interpretation as any poem.
Another masterful side to their lyricism is the powerful imagery they paint—for both the beautiful and the ugly. For example, ‘Exiliado en el Lavabo’ (Exiled in the Bathroom) concocts the grisly image of a coke addiction: “With your head in the toilet, you must’ve been asleep for a few hours without air. The last line of coke stains a toppled mirror, and on the floor, drops of blood.” Contrastingly, ‘Sola’ (Alone) uses beautiful imagery to represent emotional loneliness. The song is about a man realising that he has emotionally abandoned his partner, and now that he’s started searching for her, finds her “Alone, drinking the sea in a bar[…] flying after a swallow[…] like the virgin of the full moon[;] a mermaid laying on the sand.”
So, if you’re reading this and are Spanish, speak Spanish or want to learn Spanish, this is where you close this tab, go on Spotify and start exploring this incredible band.
If not, this doesn’t mean there isn’t anything in Estopa for you. Music can transcend language, and through David’s emotive, expressive vocals and José’s tender acoustic guitar playing, you can form a listener-artist bond on heartfelt tracks like ‘No Quiero Verla Más’ (I Don’t Wanna See Her Anymore), ‘Destrangis in the Night’ (The Strangers in the Night) and ‘Estatua de Sal’ (Pilar of Salt). If you want something to sing along to, catchy tracks like ‘Vino Tinto’, ‘Por La Raja de Tu Falda’ (Because of the Slit in Your Skirt) and ‘El Run Run’ (The Ring Ring) are bound to stick eventually.
Truly, Estopa deserves far more global recognition than they currently receive, so if you’re looking for art that balances storytelling with passionate instrumentation, they’re a hidden gem to be discovered. For me, Estopa isn’t just a band — they’re the soundtrack to my life growing up. Their music has single-handedly carried me through joy, heartbreak and the unknown. One of the best days of my life was when I saw them live in London in 2020, and I hope someone reading this gives them a chance to change their life as well.
“Estopa – Luz de Gas” by Toni Villaró is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.