Aged in oak barrels. Tempered on the anvil of adversity. Maturing like fine wines. Supported by a long-standing toughness. Invigorating like an old bourbon. Overflowing with an attitude that over the years has acquired a stately bearing. Forgive me, but seeing 091 live and trying to express what they convey is to resort to a heap of clichés and worn-out phrases that we have heard hundreds of times: the clichés fall out of my pockets. Directly. But surely there is no more valid way to approach a description of what the Granada rock quintet represents in 2026. They are one of those bands that never went out of style because they actually never were. Maybe better that way.
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Last night was the third time they returned to Valencia since their resurrection in 2015, all three times in the same venue, the Repvblicca de Mislata (in 2016, 2020, and now), and it was a joy to see that neither their drawing power diminishes over time (I would say more audience than in any of their previous visits: how far away is that sparsely attended gig at the Roxy in 1996, their first farewell) nor the stainless vigor of their live performance (more than two hours) nor the ability of José Ignacio Lapido, their guitarist and main composer, to deliver instant classics, captivated by that skeptical and lucid existentialism, where dreams blur with reality, which proves his class as one of the great lyricists of rock in Spanish. Because Espejismo nº 9 (2026), the recent ninth album of the zeros, is a remarkable record that can stand face to face with any of the most celebrated works of their career. Their songs, like Piezas de desguace, No tiene sentido escapar, Nadie quiere oír tu llanto, Ven vestida de nube or Dormir con un ojo abierto (that mojo so rhythm and blues), fit perfectly in an immaculate songbook of more than twenty pieces, which they cleared last night with their usual craft. José Antonio García as an impeccable frontman (sharp as a brush, singing wonderfully) and Tacho González, Víctor Sánchez, and Jacinto Ríos doing their thing on drums, guitar, and bass, respectively. I heard someone say they are dull, maybe because they didn’t talk much between songs. I couldn’t disagree more: they are sober. Their songs say it all.
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Turning points? Quite a few. For me, El baile de la desesperación, Cómo acaban los sueños, La canción del espantapájaros (acoustic at the start of the first of the two encores), Este es nuestro tiempo and Esta noche. And to top it off, that glimpse of an impossible hit that was La vida qué mala es and a little earlier, ¿Qué fue del siglo XX?, that early autopsy (in 1991!) of a time to which they, now that at their concerts parents and children finally see each other together, have survived against all odds and enjoying unbreakable health. How could one not celebrate that.
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Carlos Pérez de Ziriza