Art should be polarizing. It should provoke some sensibilities and excite others. It shouldn’t just toe the line and be safe. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it’s the artists that shake things up who we really care about, from Jim Morrison and Axl Rose to Kanye West and Trent Reznor. That brings us to The Blancos.
As the story goes, the duo—Cory Hueston and Jayson Robbins—got their name from a homie of theirs during the months spent recording at a Brownsville studio in Brooklyn. They rolled up as literally, “The Blancos,” but could hang nonetheless. Since then, they’ve ingested way too many drugs, wrote not enough songs, and slept on just the right amount of floors to earn rockstar stripes.
According to The Blancos, you should just take a listen, but the best way to describe their music is sex, drugs, and 808s. They’re the distillation of the last bit of genuine energy left in milquetoast indie and so-called alternative scene. “We just want to inspire or offend people,” exclaims Cory. “The politically correct world is killing art. Art is supposed to be a reflection of life, not paint a perfect picture of a world that does not exist. We’re in your face and—again, we don’t give a fuck.”
That spirit caught LAVA Records founder Jason Flom off guard, and he immediately signed the band during late 2017. They had a caveat though. “They had to let us be ourselves,” adds Jayson. The first single “Know My Name” is proof. A claustrophobic cacophony of wiry guitars and gospel-size chants—“You gon’ know my name now”—organs swell and swirl like a revival ministry soundtracked by Yeezus and awash in promethazine-spiked Kool-Aid. “It’s about self-confidence, self-belief, and going through the struggle,” continues Cory. “That’s what we’ve done.”
You’re going to know The Blancos’ name when their major label debut EP drops. If you love it, come join the cult. If it offends you…well, you know what to do.
