[VTS Emulation: Vocal: "El Estudiante" — male, grinning hoarse garage-rock shouter, loose and a little sloppy, having the time of his life; a gang of rowdy voices shouts the chorus with him] [VTS Emulation: Rhythm: "Botellón" — driving ~170 BPM surf beat, pounding tom-heavy drums as the pulse of the whole song, flamenco palmas joining on the choruses] [VTS Emulation: Space: "Granada" — reverb-drenched electric guitar with machine-gun tremolo picking in a Moorish Middle Eastern scale, low-string glissando dives, thumping bass, one flamenco guitar flourish in the break; loud, wet, and wild] [Intro | 8 bars | tremolo-picked surf guitar alone, drenched in reverb, then the pounding drums slam in | then vocal] [Verse 1 | voice grinning and loose, surf guitar stabbing between lines, drums pounding] Nineteen ninety-somethin', I was twenty and broke in Granada, a pocket full of pesetas and a head full of nada, a caña on Calle Elvira, and they set a plate down free — I said, "I didn't order this," and the bartender winked at me. [Chorus | gang shouts, palmas join, surf guitar tremolo-picking the hook] ¡Una más! ¡Una más! Every round, a better plate, ¡una más! ¡Una más! Nobody in Granada sleeps till eight! [Verse 2 | voice grinning and loose, surf guitar stabbing between lines, drums pounding] First round, olives; second round, tortilla, warm and thick, third round, jamón, and the Alhambra beer is doin' its trick, fourth, somebody's cousin hauls a jug of calimocho to the square — red wine and Coca-Cola, and a hundred students there. [Chorus | gang shouts, palmas join, surf guitar tremolo-picking the hook] ¡Una más! ¡Una más! Every round, a better plate, ¡una más! ¡Una más! Nobody in Granada sleeps till eight! [Surf Break | 16 bars | surf guitar rips a machine-gun tremolo solo in the Moorish scale, a flamenco guitar flourish answers it, drums pounding toms, low-string dive bombs] [Verse 3 | voice hoarser and laughing, drums pounding] I remember climbin' to the Al-bye-seen to watch the sun come up, I remember singin' flamenco badly into a plastic cup, I don't remember lyin' down — but I woke up in a bush, with the Alhambra starin' at me, and an old lady with a broom givin' me a push. [Final Chorus | biggest — gang shouts, palmas, surf guitar screaming] ¡Una más! ¡Una más! Every round, a better plate, ¡una más! ¡Una más! Nobody in Granada sleeps till eight! [Outro | surf guitar does one last low-string glissando dive bomb, drums crash, hard stop]
