Mesa Cosa are a gang of rambunctious punks out to remind the world that rock 'n roll is the devil's music, and the devil loves any excuse to get loose. Boisterously uplifting garage riffs, mandatory-shout-along one-word choruses, anarchic noise walls and enough Mexi-folk flavour that summons the spirits of a possessed mariachi band covering the stooges at in a neon Tijuana dive. Mesa Cosa sing in both Spanish and English but they only speak one language - party.
When you open up a record entitled ‘YaYa Brouhaha’, you go into it knowing that you’re probably not going to find the next Bob Dylan. In fact, it’s more likely you’ll find a howling, fuck-eyed Iggy Pop, in the smearing-peanut-butter-over-his-belly phase of career. Yeah, that comparison probably sits right. It’s too fun of a title to be anything as macabre as GG Allin, and it’s too idiotic to be anything that takes itself seriously. So, basically the perfect mix of punk rock and hellfire carelessness.
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