Album Review: Control Obrero by Las Manos De Filippi – A Wild Ride Through Reggae, Rock, and Beyond
Alright, let’s talk about Control Obrero by Las Manos De Filippi. Released in 2007 outta Argentina, this album is a genre-bending beast that mixes reggae, rock, art rock, ska, and even hardcore into something that feels chaotic but oddly cohesive. It's like someone threw a bunch of musical styles into a blender and hit "puree." And honestly? I’m here for it.
First off, the tracklist is bananas—seriously, there are so many songs (and versions of songs) that you might need a map to keep up. But two tracks really stuck with me: "Gracias Por Ser Amigo De Bush" and "Fasinpat."
“Gracias Por Ser Amigo De Bush” is one of those tunes where you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry. The title itself pokes fun at U.S. foreign policy under George W. Bush, which sets the tone right away. There’s this biting sarcasm running through the lyrics, paired with an infectious ska beat that makes you wanna dance while flipping the bird to imperialism. Oh, and did I mention there are multiple versions of this song on the album? One features Albert Pla, whose vocals add this extra layer of absurdity. By the third time you hear it, you’ll either be singing along loudly or questioning your life choices. Either way, it’s memorable.
Then there’s “Fasinpat,” which hits different. This one leans more into the reggae vibes, with Fermin Muguruza lending his voice for a feature. The groove is smooth, but don’t let that fool you—the message is heavy. Fasinpat stands for “Fábrica Sin Patrón,” or “Factory Without a Boss,” and it’s all about worker solidarity and resistance. You can practically feel the energy of people coming together to fight for their rights. It’s empowering as hell and reminds me why music like this matters—it’s not just noise; it’s a rallying cry.
The rest of the album keeps things interesting too. Tracks like “Cromañon” hit hard with raw emotion, while “Ballenas” slows things down just enough to give you breathing room before diving back into chaos. And yeah, having Diego Cortez pop up on multiple tracks adds some cool variety. Honestly, though, trying to describe every single song would take forever because there’s just so much packed into this thing.
What I love most about Control Obrero is how unapologetically messy it feels. Like, it doesn’t care if it fits neatly into one box or another. Instead, it throws everything at you—politics, humor, anger, hope—and dares you to keep up. It’s imperfect, sure, but isn’t that what makes it human?
So yeah, if you’re looking for something polished and predictable, this ain’t it. But if you want an album that feels alive, that challenges you and makes you think while still giving you bangers to blast in your car, check out Control Obrero. Just don’t blame me if you end up shouting “¡Gracias por ser amigo de Bush!” at random strangers.
Oh, and here’s a weird thought to leave you with: What if Bush actually listened to this album? Would he get it? Or would he just bob his head to the ska beats and miss the point entirely? Food for thought.
