Otra Vuelta De Tuerca by Habeas Corpus: A Chaotic Joyride Through Punk and Metalcore Mayhem
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—you don’t just listen to Otra Vuelta De Tuerca. You strap in, hold on for dear life, and hope your eardrums survive the ride. This 2020 Spanish punk-rock juggernaut from Habeas Corpus is like a blender filled with broken glass, gasoline, and raw emotion. It’s messy, loud, and unapologetically intense—and honestly? That’s why it works.
The album hops between hard rock riffs that could strip paint off walls, metalcore breakdowns sharp enough to cut diamonds, and nu-metal grooves so heavy they might collapse your couch. With tracks like “La Rabia Y Los Sueños” (Rage and Dreams) and “Mano De Hierro, Guante De Seda” (Iron Hand, Silk Glove), this record feels less like music and more like an emotional exorcism. Produced by Daniel Alcover and released under Zero Records and Desobediencia, it’s clear these guys weren’t aiming for subtlety—they were aiming for your soul.
Now, let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a hot sidewalk:
First up: “La Rabia Y Los Sueños.” This track kicks off like someone spilled coffee on your keyboard—jarring but oddly satisfying. M.A.R.S.’ vocals are equal parts snarl and scream, while Nano and Mr. Chifly’s guitars duel like cats fighting over tuna. The bassline courtesy of Adrián hits harder than your ex’s text messages, and Toñín’s drums sound like war drums calling you to battle. What makes this song unforgettable isn’t just its energy—it’s how it flips between chaos and melody without warning. One second you’re headbanging like a maniac; the next, you’re humming along like it’s some twisted lullaby. By the time it ends, you’re left wondering if you should punch something or hug someone. Maybe both?
Then there’s “Mano De Hierro, Guante De Seda,” which sounds like what would happen if Iron Maiden had a baby with Korn and raised it on a diet of chili peppers and existential dread. The opening riff grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go until the last note fades away. Lyrically, it’s all about contrasts—strength vs. softness, anger vs. control—and somehow, they pull it off without sounding like a motivational poster gone wrong. The drum programming by Adrián García Riber adds layers of industrial grit, making the whole thing feel like a factory explosion set to music. Halfway through, there’s this breakdown where everything drops out except for the bass and vocals, and damn if it doesn’t hit you right in the gut. It’s the kind of moment that makes you pause whatever dumb thing you’re doing and just… feel.
What’s wild about Otra Vuelta De Tuerca is how cohesive it feels despite throwing every genre at the wall to see what sticks. Sure, it leans into punk, rock, hard rock, metalcore, and nu-metal, but it never feels scattered. Instead, it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion—you can’t look away because even though it’s chaotic, there’s beauty in the destruction.
And here’s the kicker: listening to this album feels like therapy. These songs dig deep into rage, frustration, dreams crushed and rebuilt, and somehow make you feel less alone in your own mess. Weird flex, but okay.
So yeah, if you’re looking for background music to sip tea and contemplate life choices, maybe skip this one. But if you want something that punches you in the face and then hands you a tissue, give Otra Vuelta De Tuerca a spin. Just don’t blame me when your neighbors start complaining—or when you find yourself shouting lyrics in the shower like a madperson.
Final thought? If Habeas Corpus ever decided to write a self-help book instead of another album, I’d probably read it. Probably.
