Es Pic Troll by Estupre: A Chaotic Spanish Punk Gem That Still Kicks Ass
Let’s get one thing straight—Es Pic Troll isn’t for the faint of heart. Released in 1992 by Spain’s own Estupre under El Lokal, this album is like getting sucker-punched by a drunk street poet with something to prove. It’s raw, unfiltered, and absolutely relentless. This ain’t your polished pop record; it’s punk rock spit straight from the gutter, and that’s exactly why it slaps so hard.
First up, “Que No Te Coman EL Tarro.” Damn, where do I even start? The track barrels out of the gate like a runaway train fueled by cheap booze and bad decisions. The vocals are all over the place—like someone screaming at their landlord while dodging eviction—but somehow it works. You can feel every ounce of frustration dripping off the lyrics. And yeah, maybe the production quality sounds like it was recorded in a shoebox, but who gives a shit? That DIY grit is what makes it unforgettable. Every time I hear those opening chords, I’m transported back to some dingy basement show where everyone’s sweating and shouting along like it’s the last night on Earth.
Then there’s “El Enano (Sbart De Replicants).” Holy hell, this song hits different. It’s got this weird mix of aggression and absurdity that feels like a middle finger to everything normal. The bassline groans like an old man complaining about his knees, but it’s catchy as fuck. There’s just something about how chaotic it gets halfway through—the tempo shifts, the yelling ramps up—it’s like they’re daring you to keep listening. Spoiler alert: you will. By the end, you're left wondering if you just survived a mosh pit or a fever dream. Either way, it sticks with you.
Now let me tell ya, Es Pic Troll ain’t perfect. Hell, it barely holds together most of the time. But that’s kinda the point. This album doesn’t care about being pretty or polished—it wants to punch you in the face and make you think twice about life. Tracks like “Gent Pacifíca” round out the madness, but honestly, after hearing “Que No Te Coman EL Tarro” and “El Enano,” my brain was already mush.
Here’s the kicker though—why the hell don’t more people talk about this record? Maybe it’s too wild, too untamed for today’s playlists full of algorithm-friendly nonsense. Or maybe it’s just waiting for the right moment to explode again. Whatever the case, Es Pic Troll deserves its spot in the pantheon of underground greatness. So grab a drink, crank up the volume, and let Estupre remind you what real rebellion sounds like.
Oh, and if anyone tells you this album sucks, laugh in their face. They probably couldn’t handle it anyway.
