Tapones Visente - "Haw-Haw": A Sonic Time Capsule of Spanish Punk Rock Rebellion
Album Description:

I have a soft spot for records that look like they were assembled on a dare. Tapones Visente’s "Haw-Haw" is one of those: Spain, 1984, 21 Records (SL-21504), produced by Raúl Marcos, and cut with the kind of crooked confidence that makes “polished” feel like an insult.

Historical Context

By the early 80s, Spain had air in its lungs again. Not calm air—more like the first deep breath after years of being told to keep your head down. You can hear that in the era’s punk: less theory, more impatience. "Haw-Haw" doesn’t deliver a history lesson. It just shows up with its sleeves rolled up.

Musical Exploration and Style

The line-up helps explain the weird spark: Luigi Tapone on vocals, Lou Kowalsky on guitar (and backing), Billi Villegas on bass (plus, hilariously, Gaelic pipes), and Tino di Geraldo driving the drums and percussion. That combination doesn’t “blend genres.” It collides them.

One minute it’s all elbows and teeth—"Deporte y Salud", "Box"—and the next it’s doing something sideways like "Ulele", a track that feels more like a ritual stomp than a neat punk tune. Then they go and swipe songs from wildly different corners: a twisted take on the Sex Pistols’ "Holidays in the Sun" reappears as "Mamaíta", and José Luis Perales turns up via "Pregúntale". That’s not genre tourism. That’s mischief with purpose.

Controversies

The title "Haw-Haw" reads like a sneer—one of those laughs that isn’t friendly and isn’t trying to be. The sleeve art (credited to Gallardo and Mediavilla) leans into that same street-level comic-book grime, like it crawled out of the Makoki universe and landed on your turntable. If anyone clutched pearls over it, I get it. But the record isn’t begging for permission anyway.

Recording and Production

It was recorded at Sonoland studios around Madrid, and it sounds like it. Not “bad.” Just honest. The drum hits feel close enough to flinch at, the guitars scrape instead of shimmer, and the whole thing moves fast—like the band didn’t want the songs sitting still long enough to be domesticated.

The Frontman: Luigi Tapone

Tapone’s voice doesn’t pose; it lunges. He sounds like someone delivering lines through a half-grin and a raised eyebrow—equal parts bite and joke. That tone matters, because this album’s power isn’t in grand statements. It’s in the way it refuses to be polite for even ten seconds.

References

I file "Haw-Haw" in the “too strange to ignore” part of the shelf. It’s a reminder that punk wasn’t born to sound correct—it was born to sound necessary. And this one still does, even if it’s laughing at you while it proves the point.