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Someday You’ll Know Why (4:41)
My Internal Baobab (1:17)
Itsy Bitsy (2:18)
Sorry Angel (4:03)
Never Trust A BratenKopf (3:50)
Supreme Harmony (5:46)
Heretic Mind (10:27)
Exotic Salsa (3:07)
Caliente (2:21)
Never Trust A Bollock (1:59)
Templehof (8:22)
Three Trees (3:13)
Mallick’s Birthday (6:12)


  • Monoski covers “Someday You'll Know Why” by Antonov & The Mexican Spies


Antonov & The Mexican Spies — Bratenkopf

Hamburg, Germany
Their name is a red herring as if to flush out their true identity. Indeed, Antonov is no Bulgarian just as the Mexican Spies are not Mexicans. As for the English-language name, it is no real proof of identity. Global diversity seems to appear with the title of the album "Bratenkopf" - roasted head in German - a language from which it seems wise to try to understand their beginnings. Hamburg, 2001, Hörst Steiner embarks on a cargo vessel to Rosario (Argentina), a port city, located on the banks of the Parana River. Was he crazy to choose that particular time to migrate to Argentina when the economy was just about to implode? With only a guitar, a computerand a suitcase, the professional computer technician had only one idea in mind: to devote himself to music. Does the economic pillaging of the country echo his desire to make a clean sweep in his own life? Still, Hörst Steiner arrived in Rosario without any other strings other than those of his guitar and his vocal cords. Therefore he started from scratch or almost, because in his spare time, the former IBM programmer used to be the leader of a country-rock group called "Bratenkopf" that played in local Hamburg dives. Once his foot on Argentinian soil, he's becomes a fully-fledged musician. Antonov is born, and with his guitar, he starts off playing solo in neighbouring bars. One can imagine the loneliness of the wandering entertainer although this allowed him to quickly meet the locals. Thus, from 2003 onwards, Antonov always has his Mexican Spies by his side. Unquestionably musicians not spooks and quite definitely Argentinian not Mexican. A bunch of musicians to whom he owes the discovery of electricity. From then on, it was as if a third man was born, a sort of Neil Young with Crazy Horse if one must make comparisons. With his un-tucked plaid shirt, Antonov and his band are short on words and leave all interaction to their screaming guitars. Without any kind of technique, but with the genius born of their freedom.

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