What BPM is best for general running?

HERMOSA features an average 140 BPM, ideal for general running workouts.

HERMOSA - Running Music

I built this playlist with a specific kind of future suffering in mind. The curator's note says it all: "The soundtrack for next time." Not this time—next time. Because this time, I'm three miles into what Past Me optimistically labeled "easy pace," and my cardiovascular system is staging a formal protest. La Luz's "Sure As Spring" opened with dreamy surf reverb that suggested we were headed somewhere coastal and pleasant. Lies. The Orwells' "Buddy" detonated ninety seconds later—all teeth and distortion—and I realized Past Me had built a trap.\n\nThe genius of HERMOSA is in the genre collision. Surf rock shouldn't work with egg punk. Psychedelic sprawl shouldn't coexist with two-minute garage burners. But somewhere between levitation room's narcotic "Warmth of the Sun" and Gee Tee's manic "FBI," the playlist stops being a sequence and becomes a chemical reaction. The surf reverb creates space—your brain drifts toward the ocean, toward anything but the mile marker. Then the punk tracks slam the door shut. Frankie and the Witch Fingers' "Futurephobic" stretches out over three and a half minutes of lysergic dread before Teen Mortgage's "Doctor" arrives like a buzzsaw. It's whiplash by design. The tempo never settles. The mood refuses negotiation.\n\nMile 7 is where HERMOSA earns its keep. My legs are composing resignation letters—formal, cc'd to my central nervous system—when "Green Fuzz" by Naked Giants kicks in. Nine minutes of krautrock-adjacent repetition. The same riff, over and over, hypnotic and relentless. It's the musical equivalent of "just keep moving." No drama, no crescendo, just momentum as religious practice. By the time Osees' "If I Had My Way" arrives, I've stopped arguing with my body. The playlist made its point: suffering is repetitive, so the music might as well be too.\n\nThe final stretch—Death Lens, The Murlocs' six-minute "Loopholes," Allah-Las, Local H—reads like a victory lap designed by someone who knows victory laps still hurt. The tempo doesn't spike. The energy doesn't manufacture false euphoria. It just keeps going, which is all you're doing anyway. "Runaway" by Shannon & The Clams closes it out with garage-pop sweetness, and I'm back where I started: realizing Past Me built this thing knowing exactly when Future Me would need surf reverb to drown out the quitting thoughts, and exactly when distortion would need to drown out the surf reverb. Next time, I'll probably hate Past Me all over again. But I'll press play.

HERMOSA

The soundtrack for next time—because this time, your legs are filing a formal complaint

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