the story so far
on the evening of march 23rd, 1999, a pasty-faced, longhaired musician was mugged on the avenia revolucion in mexico city. it wasn't just his guitar, cash, and rental car that were stolen - they also shaved his head. the musician suffered a nervous breakdown from the experience, and ended up for a two-day stay at the psychiatric clinic on the corner of san buenaventura and nio jesus. 'daloco' was born (admittedly, births at mental institutions are rare). at the same time, just a few streets away, another burned-out musician nicknamed 'bina' was deciding how he was going to ... (+) expand

the story so far
on the evening of march 23rd, 1999, a pasty-faced, longhaired musician was mugged on the avenia revolucion in mexico city. it wasn't just his guitar, cash, and rental car that were stolen - they also shaved his head. the musician suffered a nervous breakdown from the experience, and ended up for a two-day stay at the psychiatric clinic on the corner of san buenaventura and nio jesus. 'daloco' was born (admittedly, births at mental institutions are rare). at the same time, just a few streets away, another burned-out musician nicknamed 'bina' was deciding how he was going to earn enough money for a flight back to europe: either play percussion in a latin salsa band, or run drugs. he took on the more honest of the two jobs, which is how he came to play his first gig at the mental hospital in front of a group of patients, amongst whom daloco was slowly recovering from his traumatic experience. somewhere between the salsa sound and sedatives, it occurred to both of them that they obviously didn't belong there. finally released with a clean bill of health ('oficiales dar de alta'), daloco mooched some money and bought himself and bina one-way tickets back home. once there, they began recording daloco's debut album together with a handful of other musicians and a producer, which appeared in july 2002 on the lawine/virgin/emi label. as is often the case in hard times, either true friends or lawyers remain to pick up the pieces. why should it be otherwise for daloco and bina. when two guys have already been through so much, obstacles such as label politics, a stagnating music industry, mp3 downloads, the migration to berlin, pop-stars and polyphonic ringtones, pale in comparison. reason enough to persevere, and reason enough to trumpet forth daloco's new songs. after taking all the junk that had been collecting in his head and puking it out onto the debut album, daloco knew it was now time to write songs that the world, or at least the dance population thereof, could really use. far removed from salsa or rap-metal, his music has emerged as a kind of 'german marching music', sounding somewhere between 'ben harper' and 'die ärzte' and projecting irony and half-truths, or at least giving the appearance of doing so. it takes a few beats to find out if the sound catches hold of you (that lies in the nature of reflexes), but even so "it basically doesn't matter what happens - there's always room for me at the madhouse."daloco - 2006 (-) collapse