Verborrea

“MAYBE WE’RE GOING TO SING LIKE RATS”

Some events are so improbable that they seem straight out of a movie.

That is how legends are born. Out of the improbable. On the border between life and its dreamed-of melody.

In Verborrea, Pablo Remón has his characters narrate a contemporary tale of rise and fall—that of the fictional punk band Verborrea, a story you remember under different names, played with the exact same guitar strum. We follow two brothers raised in the shadow of the Valle de los Caídos under the authority of a Francoist father: Kike, the social being, and Segis, who builds his identity in opposition to everything. From that rebellion, Segismundo Tóxico and his tale are born. His tales. Each character remembers with different nuances. Even the band’s foundational guitar has two versions of its life.

On stage, Remón is joined by familiar faces he has collaborated with for years: Javier Cámara, Israel Elejalde, Marta Nieto, and Emilio Tomé. Together, in a text rich with traditional Madrid wit (casticismo) and popular culture, they will question how we inherit narratives, how we fight them, accept them, and repeat them. We rhyme differently, but we sound alike.

When you can no longer tell yourself you are the hero you wanted to be, you have to redefine what hope is.

Perhaps it consists in letting yourself be carried away by the story that actually happened.

Pilar G. Almansa

Dramaturg of the 26/27 Season