“Distortion and intensity are back in a big way,” says Benjamín de la Fuente, singer and guitarist of Chilean emo band Estoy Bien. He’s chatting with me at a small brewery in the southern city of Valdivia. Both of us are in town for the music industry market, Fluvial, where the band is slated to perform at a showcase alongside similarly noisy acts Confío En Tus Amigos and ASMRBRUJO. They’re all breakouts from a growing scene of hard rock acts shaking the rafters of the Chilean underground. Their music is a cathartic outlet for young people processing the trauma of pandemic isolation and years of civil unrest, also known as El Estallido Social. The result is a new age of South American guitar music, refracted into emotionally charged songwriting and a rainbow of pummeling rock ‘n’ roll sub-genres.
“We all play with distortion in our own unique way,” says de la Fuente, highlighting the upswing of grunge, emo, and hardcore led by bands such as Candelabro, Frucola Frappé, and Déjenme Dormir. “Since the scene was dead throughout the pandemic and we were all just sitting at home, we decided to go for it, playing loud and screaming, letting everything out.”
Chile’s rock roots run deep. They extend back to the Nueva Canción movement of the 1960s and folk icons like Victor Jara and Violeta Parra, who gave voice to the poor and disenfranchised while experimenting with traditional music—notably in the latter’s avant-garde “anti-cuecas.” The country’s first rock superstars were Los Prisioneros, a scrappy trio that emerged in the 1980s and took aim at U.S.-architected neoliberalism and the Pinochet dictatorship’s stifling brutality. Their final album, the enduring pop crossover Corazones, coincided with the regime’s end in 1990; the record’s thumping drum machines and anthemic choruses would re-emerge 20 years later, evoked by a generation of fresh-faced indie pop idols.
By the 2010s, Chile was the center of the Latin American indie universe thanks in no small part to studio whizzes Javiera Mena, Álex Anwandter, and Dënver, who helped the region earn a reputation as a “naïve pop” haven. Later in the decade, Niños del Cerro, Chini.png, and Playa Gótica injected catchy hooks with jagged rock riffs, while the rise of Tomasa del Real and neoperreo heralded an inevitable changing of the guard. The country’s seemingly exponential artistic growth came to a screeching halt following the paradigm shift of El Estallido Social, which erupted in October 2019.
With the country awash in mass mobilizations, and human rights violations perpetrated by the militarized police force, the time for romance was over. Lighthearted pop-rock was a nostalgic privilege synonymous with the upper-middle class establishment—a mood now at odds with a robust socio-economic restructuring that sought to break up morbid wealth and empower peripheral communities. Trap and reggaetón became the new Chilean mainstream, and with the back-to-back onslaught of a global pandemic, underground artists went back to the drawing board, re-emerging with visceral songs and pent-up rage.
In the following years, Santiago imprints Sello Fisura and Joy Boy Records fostered paranoid, nocturnal epics from Maifersoni, Dolorio & Los Tunantes, and El Cómodo Silencio de los Que Hablan Poco, plunging into post-punk, post-rock, and post-everything else. El Estallido’s lessons in decentralized power and influence bolstered shoegaze and darkwave in the port city of Valparaíso, launching the label LEVIATÁN and atmospheric projects El Significado de las Flores, Gomitas Ácidas, and Alondra Noctvrna. Similarly, in Temuco, post-hardcore and math rock gained momentum behind Asia Menor, Panorama Local, and Tori Inu, echoing the overcast landscapes of Southern Chile and the natural introspection they breed.
Grappling with unresolved socio-political turmoil, many young artists in the region today are finding inspiration in the vastness of folk. Theatrical singer-songwriters Javiera Electra and Rucitama warp rustic décimas and tonadas with pedal effects and synths, while the band Inundaremos heightens Andean instruments like the cuatro and bombo legüero with sweeping chamber pop. Then there’s Martín Acertijo, Los Puntuos, and the Corte Chilenero movement, which melds percussive cueca with incisive rap bars and streetwise slang, challenging deep-seated classism. This daring embrace of patriotism underscores a necessary change in Chilean identity, recasting national symbols like the flag and folkloric garb to more accurately reflect the country’s ongoing evolution.
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“Folk is fucking cool and it shouldn’t be dismissed as music for old people and right-wing nuts,” says Rodrigo Romero, founder of Phuyu y La Fantasma, an experimental ensemble that reconfigures the DNA of cuecas and décimas with blasts of prog and post-rock. “Cueca has always been political, even when it was appropriated by the dictatorship. But we have a low perception of our identity, and sometimes we’re ashamed of our culture and look elsewhere for inspiration. We’re part of a tradition, and I’d like to vindicate what is being forgotten.”
“The fight is earthly, but also spiritual,” says Awka Nawel, singer and co-founder of Mawiza, a death metal band that amplifies native Mapuche teachings of environmentalism and memory in their guttural wails and songs performed entirely in Mapudungun. “There’s a saying [that translates to] ‘Don’t be ashamed,’ which responds to the aftermath of the so-called pacification of La Araucanía. We are still here, and we still resist. But those events left us a disarticulated nation. We hope that people, indigenous or not, connect with our music and begin to listen to the territory. There is much to learn from first nations around the world, not just Mapuches.”
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As Chile continues to experience historic transformation, rock music is the canvas on which much of this emotional labor is being immortalized. Here are some of the bands sharing essential stories from the streets as well as from their hearts.
Estoy Bien
Estoy Bien’s onstage chemistry is almost telepathic. The trio’s tight, riveting shows weave humor with profound catharsis, sparking mosh pits that quickly turn into collective therapy sessions. That’s pretty much the thesis of their debut, Apoyo Emocional (or Emotional Support), an emo revival record that contrasts lighthearted tales of shoddy advice (“Frente A Frente”) and social anxiety (“Ahora”) with painful memories of heartbreak (“El Sonido de las Campanas”) and sexual assault (“Mis Manos”). Estoy Bien’s raw songwriting struck a chord with audiences, leading to bookings at Lollapalooza Chile and even a tour through Mexico. They won’t stay an underground gem for long.
Déjenme Dormir
A slow record can gut-punch you as hard as the most incendiary fare, and Santiago grunge band Déjenme Dormir achieved this feat with their searing sophomore LP, BRONCE. Boasting the tagline, “Learning to lose,” the record unpacks harsh lessons gleaned from heartbreak and unhealthy habits—like nail-biting and scab-picking. Kicking off with “Roma” and “Prudente,” layers of distorted guitars crash in on each other like waves against a stone cliff, while closing tracks “Arco II” and “En Tu Voz” simmer in pensive math and post-rock to signal the storm has passed.
Chini.png
Though Chini.png’s musical career dates back to her folk-pop band The Technicians and the popular DIY label Uva Robot, the prolific guitarist and songwriter has gradually transformed into a full-blown rock n’ roll goddess. Her 2023 solo debut El día libre de Polux became an emblem of the times, synthesizing the precariousness and uncertainty of living through Chile’s pandemic revolts and creating nervous sonic atmospheres with fuzzed-out shoegaze guitars and jazzy drums. Coupled with outlandish costumes and surreal stage makeup, Chini.png purges fear and guilt through alien characters, like on the recent psychedelic dirge “Manflorita,” where she eulogizes her grandmother while portraying a humanoid snake.
Mawiza
Chile has the most metal bands per capita in Latin America, a passion for heavy sounds that produced extreme metal pioneers Pentagram (Chile) back in the 1980s and, more recently, made label Eat My Records an essential interlocutor between homegrown and international metal scenes. Within this fertile ecosystem, Mawiza cut through the noise with their own signature cocktail of chainsaw guitars, guttural vocals, and ancestral Mapuche wisdom they’ve dubbed “ÜL Metal.” The band debuted a decade ago, but it was 2019’s blistering Kollong LP that allowed them to secure opening slots for Mastodon and Gojira, even leading to an enduring friendship with Joe Duplantier, who encouraged the band to double down on indigenous lyricism. Mawiza’s forthcoming LP, ÜL, is slated for release this summer via the French label Season of Mist, followed by a European tour that’ll roar with primeval force.
PASKURANA
There’s a breezy, 90s alt-rock vibe to PASKURANA, the alias of singer-songwriter Pascale Yates. Hailing from Santiago and based in Valdivia, the young bard tried her hand at folk and indie pop on her first two EPs, eventually landing on a more robust dream pop sound for her full-length debut, Parajes Oníricos. Awed by nature in all its forms, Yates celebrates the noble beauty of vast forests and home-tended gardens on “Árbol y Animal” and “EN EL JARDÍN.” The theme of balance recurs in her relationship to space and territory, revving the engines of her wanderlust on “NÓMADE” while also finding solace in her inner realms for “Jardín Psíquico.”
Asia Menor
Oscillating between post-hardcore and art-punk, Asia Menor’s explosive debut album Enola Gay is populated by propulsive drums, buzzing guitars, and primal screams from singer Jorge Scheuermann. It’s a heart-pounding listen, with cuts like “Estrés” and “La Naturaleza” underscoring the anxiety of modern life with disorienting rhythmic shifts. Asia Menor’s early steps were guided by Niños del Cerro leader Simón Campusano, who eventually introduced the band to producer Víctor Muñoz; it was Muñoz who suggested performing and recording Enola Gay live in the studio. This captured a potency the band had already honed on the stage, resulting in a white-knuckle screamfest for the ages.
Phuyu y La Fantasma
One of the cornerstones of the label Registro Móvil, Phuyu y La Fantasma emerged as an experimental behemoth hellbent on torching neoliberalism and educating disillusioned punks on the value of their heritage. Melding folk traditions from cueca and décimas with jagged rock, glitch, and hip-hop, the project was launched in October 2020 by singer-songwriter and producer Rodrigo Romero, who previously led the lo-fi—and often sardonic—Catalina Lust. Phuyu’s inspired debut El Patio de los Calla’os contrasts Andean charango and beatboxing with the psychedelic poetry of “La Palabra,” while Romero’s cartoonishly Auto-Tuned vocals on “Alzheimer Juvenil” mourn imported trends supplanting homegrown customs. Last year, armed with a full band, Phuyu y la Fantasma unleashed a sprawling double album that mutated from scorching hardcore into balmy post-rock and ambient. The first disc, A| Tetralogía de Bichos y Setas, takes aim at the privatization of public services and defeatist complacency set in post-El Estallido Social, while B| Décimas de Phuyu y la fantasma arrived as a single-track LP meditating on impending environmental calamity.
Javiera Electra
Singer-songwriter Javiera Electra might make more sense on a neo-folk list, but the abundance of experimental distortion, spacey synths, and acrobatic vocals land her closer to David Bowie than Joni Mitchell. Based in the city of Concepción, the master performer cut her teeth singing on buses and in community soup kitchens, sneaking witty repartee in between intimate songs about economic precarity and personal transformation. Electra’s 2023 EP REPRÍS surrounds her poetic storytelling and minimal guitar arrangements with glitchy, immersive production, while the recent double single “Espadámbar” ponders the agony and ecstasy of trans existence as simultaneously precious and constantly endangered.
Siniestra Pandora
There’s storm-like enormity to Siniestra Pandora’s debut album Elegía, evocative of their origins in the port city of Valaparíso, that’s aided by the fantastic technical wizardry of producers Victoria Cordero and Junne Fuentes. Formed in 2018, the band’s explorations in heavy shoegaze and post-rock are merely a canvas for downtrodden meditations on loss in cuts like “En la ciudad” and “Fisura.” Meanwhile, the beautiful acoustic intro of “Pagano” recalls the endearing vulnerability of Queensrÿche’s “Silent Lucidity,” a reminder that behind every blaring power chord hides a wounded heart.
Candelabro
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A recurring motif for this generation of Chilean bands is the desire for emotional growth and self-improvement. Candelabro’s acclaimed 2023 debut, Ahora o Nunca, finds the nerd-rock ensemble led by singer and producer Matías Ávila exploring nervousness, risk-taking, and far-out fantasies. The low-key “Refugio I” offers an inner sanctum from the evils of the world, while the ebullient “Todas las fiestas” bursts with adolescent wonder, as Ávila daydreams about building a home where he can welcome and celebrate all his friends. The use of synths and saxophone amidst the barrage of alt-rock and emo, gives the album a lived-in ‘70s texture, evoking bands like Chicago, Supertramp, and even Elton John. It helps the heady reflections go down a lot more smoothly.
Idea Blanco
During an interview with the Chilean publication Expectador, singer-songwriter Idea Blanco declared, “I think we need to feminize the indie scene.” She was right. Most rock movements start out as impenetrable boy’s clubs, and in Chile, the work of artists like Estriba, Revivir, Aerodynamo, and Safo is helping to broaden the variety of stories that populate this universe. Blanco has made her own sizable contributions, debuting back in 2020 with the feminist folk single “Paso Seco de Mujer,” and gradually veering into groovy pop-rock on “Algo (Tan Simple)” and “Eso Eres.” But it was her 2024 self-titled debut that landed on the national radar, blending alt-rock, pop, and electronic atmospheres, even enlisting experimental folk hero Diego Lorenzini for the woozy, “Lo Perfecto.” The album’s beating heart is “Para: Paloma,” an intimate letter to her sister wrapped in propulsive breakbeats and delicate flute arrangements that further underscores her commitment to lifting the voices of other women.
