Lentos Pardos Band Interview: Chaos-Loving & Critical of Society

Editor’s Note: this interview was originally conducted in Spanish and then translated; its original quotes remain in the article, presented in italics. They are followed by their English translation.

Speaking to the “Suciedad”

In the early days of Lentos Pardos, one could say that they made party music — danceable tracks with references to drinking, drugs, and generally having a good time. While those aspects are still very much a part of their songs, their lifestyle, and the artist community that they belong to, Lentos Pardos has emerged, post-pandemic and post-difficult life circumstances, with different thematic and stylistic considerations in mind.

“Nos gusta echar la fiesta y todo, pero pues, igual, tratamos de ser buenas personas,” explains vocalist and all-around songwriter Leo. “Tratamos de que nuestro día a día sea lo mejor posible, pero también sabemos que cuando estamos… en esto de la música, es todo un relajo. Pues, a veces es demasiado fiesta… somos buenas personas, pero también nos gusta el desastre.”

“We like to party and all that, but, you know, we still try to be good people,” explains vocalist and songwriter Leo. “We try to be the best we can in our day-to-day lives, but we also know that when we’re… in the music scene, it’s a wild ride. I mean, sometimes it’s a bit too much partying… we’re good people, but we also like a bit of chaos.”

Some of Lentos Pardos’ latest tracks are representative of how the band is redirecting themselves. Their track “Suciedad,” which translates to “dirtiness” but can also translate to “corruption,” has lyrics and visuals that speak to well-known trends of corruption in Mexican politics.

“Lo que realmente queremos proyectar es como la vida real, ¿sabes? O sea lo que sí hacemos. Sí no, pues, tener censura en ese sentido de así somos, así vivimos, así la pasamos. Entonces así era esa etapa de Lentos Pardos en la música pero siento que ahora ya es otra cosa. Ya estamos un poco mayores, ya estoy pensando en otras cosas,” he continues.

“What we really want to project is real life, you know? I mean, the things we actually do. We don’t want to censor ourselves in that sense; this is who we are, how we live, and how we have a good time. So that’s what that phase of Lentos Pardos’ music was like, but I feel like it’s something else now. We’re a bit older, and I’m thinking about other things,” he continues.

“Ya somos adultos funcionales, pero también quería como que tuviera un poco más de madurez el proyecto en ese sentido proyectar un poco más lo que realmente pensamos. No todo es lo que era y desmadre, ¿no? Sino también te traemos un pensamiento crítico hacia la sociedad y todo lo que pasa político, social,” he concludes.

“We’re functional adults now, but I also wanted the project to have a bit more maturity in that sense — to better reflect what we really think. It’s not just about how things used to be or just wild partying, right? We’re also bringing a critical perspective on society and everything happening — politically and socially,” he concludes.

Grown from a State of Protest

Because Lentos Pardos were born and raised in Oaxaca, they cannot ignore an understanding of daily social and political struggles. Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s poorest states, and it is well-known for regular protests — whether from various Indigenous communities, mothers searching for missing loved ones, or teacher unions who often close down the main streets of the capital city. More than anything, Oaxaca has instilled in the duo the reality that often the government responds poorly, or not at all, to struggles of the local people.

“Los gobiernos han robado hasta nuestra identidad. Los defienden en las redes los que quieren escalar. No confío en la gente que vende su dignidad,” Leo raps in “Suciedad.” “Governments have even stolen our identity. They are defended on social media by those looking to climb the ladder. I don’t trust people who sell their dignity.”

To heighten the themes in “Suciedad,” Lentos Pardos references political situations with videos of political repression. On their social media accounts, they also at times speak out about issues such as artificial intelligence or the World Cup, which just took place in Mexico City in 2026.

“Todo está enfocado ahí pero es como solo le tapan con una lona la parte fea,” says Leo. “Everything is focused on that, but it’s like they’re just covering up the ugly part with a tarp.”

“Pero hemos tenido bastante hay unos videos recientes que han tenido un buen de auge y nos han empezado a seguir mucha gente por el mensaje, porque tal vez no saben ni quiénes somos pero les gustó lo que decía la canción,” he says. “Se identifican porque es justo lo que siento que está pasando ahora en México sobre todo y Oaxaca.”

“But we’ve had quite a bit of success; there are some recent videos that have really taken off, and a lot of people have started following us because of the message — because maybe they don’t even know who we are, but they liked what the song was saying,” he says. “They relate to it because it’s exactly what I feel is happening right now, especially in Mexico and Oaxaca.”

Coffee-Colored & Slow-Moving

That Lentos Pardos would move towards a more political direction also has much to do with how they see themselves. “Pardos,” in their name, relates to a color of brown that speaks to their skin color, while “Lentos” refers to something or someone that is generally slow-moving.

“Somos gente que viene desde muy abajo,” Leo says. “We’re people who have come from humble beginnings.”

Both Leo and Gama spent their teenage years in a community called Matías Romero, seven hours from the capital city of Oaxaca de Juárez. It is located in the Juchitán district in a coastal region known as Istmo de Tehuantepec, sometimes known as a “zona roja,” or high-risk violent crime zone. Just as recently as September 2026, for instance, the mayor of the nearby city of Juchitán was arrested for allegedly being part of a criminal network linked to extortion, drug trafficking, human trafficking, and homicides.

“Allá la cultura y la música está muy muy muy atrás… o sea, todo lo que hacemos en la vida se ha escuchado allá pues no y es muy difícil como hacer algo allá porque la gente como que no le interesa mucho,” says Leo, who admits that since leaving, Lentos Pardos has not tried to perform in Matías Romero. “Luego si te ven medio raro, que no eres de ahí, pues te levantan y a ver de quién eres, a ver qué estás haciendo aquí. Y más si te ven así tatuado o algo, más todavía, es como darles otro motivo para que hagan algo.”

“Culture and music are very, very, very behind there… I mean, everything we do in life hasn’t been heard there, and it’s very difficult to do anything there because people aren’t really interested,” says Leo, who admits that since leaving, Lentos Pardos has not tried to perform in Matías Romero. “Later, if they see you looking a bit out of place — like you’re not from around there — they’ll pick you up to find out who you belong to and what you’re doing there. And if they see you have tattoos or something like that, it’s even worse; it’s like giving them another reason to take action.”

While Leo admits that Matías Romero may be slightly less violent in recent days, he has seen his fair share of violence and crime.

“Mi familia tiene un restaurante justo en la entrada de Matías Romero… y ahí es donde a veces llegan a tirar los cuerpos,” he says. “My family has a restaurant just at the entrance of Matías Romero… and there is where they sometimes dump the bodies.”

“Desde, no sé, 10, 12 años, empiezan con esos temas… a los 15, ya están metidos en algún grupo delictivo, y a los 17, ya no están,” he explains. “From the age of, I don’t know, 10 or 12, they start getting into that stuff… at 15, they’re already involved with some criminal group, and at 17, they’re already gone.”

While many youths from the area are derailed by drug-trafficking or crime-related temptations, it is Leo and Gama’s long-term friendship and their shared love of music that likely kept them out of more serious trouble. Strangely enough, it positioned them as outsiders – weirdos with a band in an area where bands barely existed.

“Yo creo que fue por la misma música que… hasta cierto punto nos salvó,” he says. “Porque creo que como nos gustaba una onda muy muy alternativa, yo siento que eso sí se desprende muchísimo de la cultura que hay allá.… nos veían como los raros pues así de que, ‘Ah mira ahí van esos güeyes que se visten raro,’ y a toda la gente no le importaba. Siento que mantenernos al margen nos ayudó bastante a no entrar en ese mundo.”

“I think it was the music itself that… saved us, to a certain extent,” he says. “Because since we were into a very, very alternative vibe – and I feel like that really sets you apart from the local culture – people saw us as the weirdos. It was like, ‘Oh, look, there go those guys who dress strangely,’ but nobody really cared. I feel like staying on the fringes helped us a lot in avoiding getting drawn into that world.”

Hence, for Lentos Pardos to make themselves a name in the larger capital city of Oaxaca de Juárez, has not been a small feat. As Leo describes, they have now played basically every type of venue in the city – from underground basement venues and abandoned houses to large stages at local festivals and giant events like la Feria de Mezcal (Mezcal Fair).

“Le comento luego a mis amigos, no, qué más difícil puede haber que venir de un pueblo de Oaxaca? O sea, es el modo más difícil como en un videojuego, ¿sabes?” he says. “Siento que hemos hecho muchas cosas, pues, a pesar de todo eso, pero ha sido un camino muy largo y difícil y de ahí viene el nombre de Lentos Pardos, porque somos gente pardo, marrón, café, y lento, vamos lento, pero vamos a la meta.”

“I tell my friends: what could be harder than coming from a village in Oaxaca? I mean, it’s like playing the game on the hardest difficulty setting, you know?” he says. “I feel like we’ve accomplished a lot, despite everything, but it’s been a long, hard road. That’s where the name ‘Lentos Pardos’ comes from: we’re pardos — brown, coffee-colored — and lentos — we move slowly, but we’re heading toward the finish line.”

Now in their 30s, Lentos Pardos is reinvigorating their project and reassessing how they move forward. That process involves scrapping some their earlier music that Leo admits may feel a bit amateur by comparison. While they have reimagined and re-recorded some of the tracks, a few have been lost to time.

The present-day Lentos Pardos celebrates a heightened degree of technical prowess, upgraded recording quality, and live shows that have the energy of an underground house show or late night rave. Now, with renewed desires to release a series of new tracks so that they can fill out a well-crafted live show, Lentos Pardos hopes to reach audiences far and wide, from inside and outside their home state of Oaxaca.

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