Si Se Callase El Ruido paints a city drowned in an endless, clattering buzz — the shouts of false patriots, converts consumed by guilt, and self-proclaimed saviors who confuse freedom with intolerance. Ismael Serrano lists these voices like a chaotic orchestra, where each bark and clang tries to silence questions, nuances, and the whispered word “ojalá” (I wish). The result is a hostile soundscape that keeps us awake at night and turns the world into a battlefield of slogans.
Yet within that uproar lives a stubborn hope. Serrano’s refrain, “Si se callase el ruido” (If the noise would quiet down), imagines a sudden hush where we could finally hear the rain washing away the city’s ghosts, talk about imperfect love, and breathe in the fresh air of possibility. The song is a plea: lower the volume of fear and fanaticism so that empathy, dialogue, and utopian dreams can take the stage. In other words, if the noise stopped, we might remember that we still have hope.