Esta Guerra by ExCocaine: A Psychedelic Noise Riot That Kicks You in the Teeth
Alright, let’s get this straight—Esta Guerra isn’t for everyone. If you’re into polished pop or radio-friendly hooks, go ahead and skip this one. But if raw, unfiltered chaos is your thing, then congrats, you’ve just found your new favorite album. Released back in 2007 on Siltbreeze Records, Esta Guerra slams together noise rock and psychedelic rock like some kind of deranged musical experiment gone gloriously wrong. And guess what? It’s all Bryan Ramirez—guitar, vocals, percussion, the whole damn circus. One dude doing it all. Respect.
Now, onto the tracks that’ll stick to your brain like gum under a desk. First up: “With The With The When The One.” Holy hell, this song doesn’t even give you time to breathe before it punches you in the face with its jagged guitars and relentless drumming. The vocals are more screamed than sung, like Ramirez is trying to exorcise something nasty from his soul. There’s no structure here, just pure adrenaline-fueled mayhem. It’s messy as hell, but that’s the point—it feels alive, unpredictable, dangerous. You can tell he wasn’t overthinking anything while recording this; it's just raw emotion bleeding out through every screeching note.
Then there’s “The Warning,” which hits different because it actually slows down enough to let you catch your breath—but not for long. This track has this weird hypnotic vibe, almost like it’s luring you into a trap. The guitar riffs spiral around your head like smoke rings, and Ramirez’s voice switches between a snarl and an eerie whisper. Halfway through, everything explodes into this chaotic crescendo that sounds like someone dropped a bomb on a garage band practice. And honestly? It rules. By the end, you’re left wondering what the hell just happened—and wanting to hear it again.
The rest of the album keeps the same energy. Tracks like “Sheafman” and “Sun Before Arises” throw curveballs at you, blending dissonant noise with trippy psychedelia in ways that make your ears perk up. Nothing about Esta Guerra is safe or predictable, and that’s exactly why it works. It’s ugly, loud, and sometimes hard to listen to—but goddamn, it’s also unforgettable.
So yeah, this record won’t win any Grammys (not that Ramirez gives a crap), but it doesn’t need to. It exists on its own terms, spitting in the face of convention and daring you to keep up. Listening to it feels like stepping into a tornado of sound where nothing makes sense except the sheer force of Ramirez’s vision.
And here’s the kicker: I bet Bryan Ramirez could care less whether you love it or hate it. He made the music he wanted to make, no compromises. In a world full of calculated playlists and algorithm-friendly tunes, Esta Guerra reminds us that art doesn’t have to play nice. It can bite, scratch, and scream—and still leave a mark. Now crank it up and see if your neighbors call the cops.
