Fernando Márquez El Zurdo (of Kaka De Luxe, Paraíso and La Mode fame) has described Charlie Mysterio as a worthy representative of the third route, a grey and special land also inhabited, according to Márquez, by other Spanish artists such as Vainica Doble or Solera, characterized by musical coordinates halfway between the elevated, the sublime and accessible pop, maybe both things at the same time. (Charlie) Mysterio is a project in constant transformation which looks for beauty in imperfection, unbridled effervescence, honest stimulation, and with all that he creates songs in the old-fashioned way, with catchy choruses and vocal harmonies but also testing the surprise threshold of the listener. He’s a singer-songwriter with a fuzz pedal and a Roland TR-606 as travel companions on this journey, which could be another one tomorrow and will probably change again on the stage. In a career spanning several decades, Charlie Mysterio has never ceased writing beautiful and timeless song spread among a large discography on labels such as Spicnic, Walden, Elefant… He has recorded with Kikí d’Akí, Papaya or Fernando Márquez, among others, and his work has always received the support of Juan de Pablos, becoming a fixture on his national radio show Flor de Pasión. Mysterio’s new album opens a new musical door for him compared to Los Caramelos, his main project over the years. This time he delivers an eponymous album bursting with anthem-like eternal melodies, songs that would reach the top of the pop charts in an ideal imagined world. ‘Lo bello y lo triste’ starts the record sketching the precious parameters customary with the author, although on this occasion they leave behind the lo-fi sounds present in some of his previous works. At times one can imagine a hypothetical collaboration between Suicide and The Beach Boys with Giorgio Moroder producing, but there are also moments that go beyond any possible comparison where Mysterio plays with the listener using his own language. ‘Autómatas incorpóreos’, ‘Dime hermano gato’ or ‘Semiótiocos de la nostalgia’ are great songs of such perfection that one is inclined to think whether they have always been there, convinced that they will remain fascinating in future decades. ‘Fuera de mis sentidos’, the only cover on the album (a Micky y Los Tonys original), also invites us to question music’s transient nature or, at least, to forget that it was written more than half a century ago. Charlie Mysterio turns it into a current and powerful song, suitable for dancing, without breaking its original skeleton.