Shoegaze from Costa Rica: Adiós Cometa on Identity and Singing in Spanish Without Compromise

What happens when a group of friends in their thirties—some with roots in hardcore bands, others stepping into their first real musical project—start meeting up not with a plan, but simply to play, decompress, and share wonton soup in San José’s Chinatown? You'll get Adiós Cometa: the Costa Rican outfit that is proving shoegaze isn’t just a 90s British relic, but a living, breathing vessel for Latin American identity.

Far from the "tropical paradise" clichés often projected onto Costa Rica, the band draws from the introspective, misty atmosphere of the San José mountains. There’s a sense, as the band puts it, that when guitars are picked up here, they don’t just sing—they lament. By weaving the poetry of Eunice Odio into layers of restrained distortion and ambient slowcore, they have carved out a space where post-metal, emo, and shoegaze collide.

Fresh off the release of their new album Un Destello de Luz —a record designed to be experienced as a visceral, two-sided journey—I caught up with the band to discuss the "religious experience" of discovering Starflyer 59, the vital importance of singing in Spanish, and how they’ve managed to sustain a vibrant underground scene through their own label, Furia. 

A classic Costa Rican writer once put it beautifully, saying that our grandparents, “when they picked up a guitar, they didn’t sing—they lamented.” I think, in a way, we’re still doing the same.

To start, how did Adiós Cometa come together as a band?

We kind of started out late, in our thirties. A couple of us had played in bands in our early twenties, but for the others, it was their first real band experience. We all knew each other from different contexts, and it initially came together as more of an excuse to hang out every week, do something cathartic, and then go have wonton soup in San José’s Chinatown. Somehow, it grew into something more serious—and here we are, seven years later.

How did each of you first connect with shoegaze? Was there a specific moment or artist that pulled you into the genre?

I can actually pinpoint the first time I heard shoegaze. It must have been around 2007. I was just wasting time on Myspace and ended up on some random guy’s profile when “When the Sun Hits” by Slowdive started playing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. At the time, I was fully immersed in hardcore and metal, and the closest thing I had heard to that kind of sound were some of the mellower, more ethereal ’80s songs my parents used to play, like “Drive” by The Cars or “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc. But this Slowdive track felt like everything I loved about those songs, just completely magnified.

From there, I slowly started discovering other bands, but the one that really sealed the deal for me was Starflyer 59. Listening to Gold felt like a genuine religious experience.

For readers discovering Adiós Cometa for the first time, how would you describe your sound in your own words?

I would say our music is deeply cathartic, mostly expressed in two very different ways: sometimes it’s direct, energetic, and fierce; other times it’s more subdued, dense, and introspective. It really depends on which song you listen to.

On this new album, there are hints of western influences (Candelaria), slowcore (Mala Memoria), ambient (Quema La Memoria), post-metal (Victoria), and emo (El mundo en mis brazos), but you couldn’t really pin the record down to any one of those styles. And that, in our opinion, is what makes it fun.

Shoegaze has historically been a very Anglo-centric genre. Was there ever a conversation about singing in English to reach a broader audience, or was using Spanish always essential to staying true to your identity?

It honestly never crossed our minds. Staying true to our identity is really important to us, and changing the language never felt necessary. There’s long been this idea in certain circles that singing in English gives you a better chance of finding success abroad, but that’s just not true—and I’m glad to see that mindset shifting with newer generations. Besides, there’s nothing more satisfying than writing and singing in your own language.

What is the underground music scene in Costa Rica like right now?

Costa Rica’s independent music scene is small, but incredibly vibrant. We’re a country of just over five million people, yet you’d be surprised by the number of shows, bands, and releases happening all the time. I think a key factor is the strong sense of generational renewal. There are a lot of young people involved—not just attending shows, but actively forming bands and creating music.

We started a label, Furia, to contribute in our own way: producing shows, helping with promotion, building connections with bands and scenes in other countries, and, most importantly, releasing music in physical formats. It’s important to us that there are tangible records of this generation—something that captures what’s happening right now.

How do you see Latin American shoegaze evolving right now compared to the US/UK scenes?

I think it’s a really vibrant scene. Like anywhere—especially with shoegaze—there’s the inevitable share of more derivative bands, but there’s also a strong group of artists pushing boundaries, blending influences, and trying to keep things moving forward.

How does the geography and atmosphere of Costa Rica influence your songwriting and overall sound?

That’s a great question. It’s interesting that in our region, artists are often naturally inclined to emulate sounds and aesthetics from abroad, but it’s less common to reference or incorporate elements of local identity. From the beginning, we’ve tried to include small nods, especially to local literature, in our lyrics and song titles. On this album, for example, in Quema La Memoria, you can hear a poem by Costa Rican writer Eunice Odio in the background.

As for how our surroundings influence our sound, contrary to what outsiders might believe, most Costa Ricans have historically lived in the central valley, in the mountains—not by the beach—and there’s a certain mood that comes with that. There’s something more introspective, even a bit reserved and melancholic in the national character. A classic Costa Rican writer once put it beautifully, saying that our grandparents, “when they picked up a guitar, they didn’t sing—they lamented.” I think, in a way, we’re still doing the same.

How do you sustain a shoegaze band in a relatively small market? Is it driven by a tight-knit community, or have you found ways to reach listeners beyond the usual shoegaze audience?

It’s a bit of both. Thankfully, there’s a growing community that’s really engaged. People show up to concerts, buy merch, and genuinely support the scene. Of course, you have to be mindful not to play too often and oversaturate things, but there’s also the opportunity to reach audiences beyond the underground.

I think the eclectic nature of our music has helped with that. It’s funny, because it’s not unusual for us to play with a hardcore band one day, open for a touring Mexican pop act the next, play a public festival in a San José park alongside a cumbia band, and then share a bill with post-rock bands shortly after. In all of those cases, it somehow makes sense—and it’s not weird at all.

You recently released a new album—can you tell us more about it? What was the creative process like this time around?

On this new record, we dive deeper into certain influences and sounds we had only lightly explored before, and that’s been really exciting. It keeps us fresh and pushes us to try new things. There are angular guitars, layers of restrained distortion, atmospheric passages, and an ongoing effort to sound raw, expansive, and as close as possible to the live experience.

Structurally, side A is more direct—more traditional, if you will—while side B leans into more experimental, denser, slower, and heavier territory. It moves from a fully ambient piece (Quema La Memoria) to two of our heaviest tracks (Mala Memoria and Victoria). It’s designed to be listened to as a whole.

Which track on the new album best captures where Adiós Cometa is right now, and why?

“Una Vida En Otra Parte” probably best captures where Adiós Cometa is right now. It’s the first time two of our three vocalists share a track, and that contrast feels really representative of how we’re thinking about dynamics at the moment.

It also pulls together many of our influences: there’s a western-inspired guitar riff, a loud chorus, and more ambient, spacious moments. It’s explosive, but it also breathes—and that balance feels like a pretty honest snapshot of the band right now.

Looking beyond your own work, who are some “if you know, you know” bands from Costa Rica or the surrounding region that we should be paying attention to right now? Who else is building something special in your scene?

From Costa Rica, for a general snapshot of the scene, we’d recommend checking out Dylan Thomas (noise pop), A su Ladera (dream pop), Lentamente (post-punk), RosaViolento (shoegaze), and Marea Tranquila (emo/shoegaze). From the rest of Central America, definitely look into Asimov (Guatemala, shoegaze) and Solamente Muero los Domingos (Panama, jangle pop).