Marcelo started the summer by sharing La antepenúltima casa de apuestas, a triple single that previews three of the twenty-two tracks planned for the forthcoming double album. It marks a bold move for an independent artist choosing a double LP format. Earlier, another preview appeared with Pedro Sánchez, the latest release by the Asturian singer-songwriter, paired with the eve of the election campaign kickoff. Nacho Vegas contributed to the track, a collaboration idea that originated when someone at the Sonido Muchacho label sent the song to him; Vegas responded with enthusiasm. The piece blends sci-fi folk with a protest vibe, a quirky humor, and what the label calls a cañí dystopia. The track, heralded as a mysterious story, nods to Bob Dylan’s Murder Most Foul while echoing the spirit of Marcelo, who is sometimes likened to a modern Durero with a rebellious, poetic edge. The result is a testament to Marcelo’s talent for weaving dense, content-rich wordplay and keen social observation into his music, an innate gift that shines through in every line.
The very day Pedro Sánchez died to discuss the political situation with (or without) elections. What is your diagnosis?
There isn’t a formal diagnosis, only a curious gaze toward what lies ahead.
By timing the release with the start of the election campaign, did you aim for a deeper reflection?
The idea was that releasing after an election might invite different readings. With the campaign underway, the decision was to move the broadcast forward, though it wasn’t possible to avoid commentary that some may label literary. The intent was to provoke thought rather than settle on a single interpretation.
It’s notable that Nacho Vegas joined you. How did that collaboration come to be, and what did he bring?
Adrián of Movidas Ardilla saw Marcelo perform about a year earlier and suggested Vegas might respond positively. The label shared the idea, and Vegas stepped in generously, contributing backing vocals in one verse and harmonizing in another. His presence adds a layer of vocal texture and a shared artistic ethos to the piece.
How was this unforgettable song conceived, and what is its meaning?
The aim was to conjure a world that is narrative, imaginative, and elusive—something that briefly escapes our ordinary frame and then returns with a fresh sensation. Defining a single meaning feels limiting; even contemplating whether the song is serious or playful seems to miss the point. It lives in the space between clarity and mystery, inviting listeners to bring their own reading.
The label describes it as sci-fi folk, a protest song, a quirky joke, and a cañí dystopia. In the midst of a presidential trip, did any warnings surface?
The response seems to come from a few semi-anonymous online insiders. Beyond the provocative title, the song offers a classic uchronic scenario—one where a different past or future illuminates the present rather than predicting it with certainty.
In the visuals you wear medieval garb and armor, almost like a surreal nod to a famous political moment. Was that intended as a deliberate surreal hook?
The visuals framed a cinematic impulse—a techno-feudal apocalypse rather than a direct political statement. Any overlap with real figures was incidental, not a deliberate homage.
Did the meaning of the song shift after elections, and can you predict what the coming months might bring?
Songs sometimes acquire new meanings as the world changes, and this one is no exception. It can feel extraterrestrial at first, free from immediate politics, yet it inevitably absorbs new context. The artist prefers not to forecast the future with certainty, choosing instead to let interpretation evolve as events unfold.
Before that release, you put out La antepenúltima casa de Apuestas. What is its essence and message?
The triple single offers three pop narratives: falling in love while studying, grieving a friend, and opting out of parties. They’re among the tracks Marcelo feels most proud of, a reflection of his candid, intimate storytelling.
Do you lean more on television than on newspapers for your information?
Online sources shape much of the perspective, and there’s a sense of being a puppet in the hands of tech-driven news cycles. The digital realm influences how stories are told and consumed.
With this single, you edge toward a third album. How do you see its arc, given the uncertain horizon?
The album has long been in the works. It promises to be expansive, possibly apocalyptic in scope, and it aims to push boundaries while staying true to the core approach that marks Marcelo’s work.
Do you regard yourself as an anti-establishment singer-songwriter? Should pop carry some level of social commitment? What concerns you about contemporary life?
Anti-establishment isn’t the label I’d choose, but the drive to write about what matters remains strong. The music scene often overemphasizes love and heartbreak, while fatigue, pain, and the aftermath of excess receive less attention. Pop should reflect a wider spectrum of human experience, not shy away from the messy parts of modern life.
What sparked the collaboration with Soleá Morente, and how did the idea to name a song after him arise?
Soleá attended one of Marcelo’s shows, liked what she heard, and suggested she craft a verse. The moment of collaboration carried a sense of responsibility and humility, yet Marcelo embraced the chance to honor her influence and contribute honestly to the piece.
You’ve also worked with Tigres Leones and Ghouljaboy. What do they mean to you?
They are artists who broaden Marcelo’s sonic world. Collaborations with them reflect inspiration, risk, and a willingness to stretch the tapestry of his music.
Did you feel comfortable teaming up with Álex López again? How did the process land?
Yes, collaboration with Álex López feels natural. The results tend to emerge the way they should, without forcing a change just to fit a formula.
Your approach seems steady rather than genre-shifting. Is protecting your core sound the goal, and what sonic directions do these new songs explore?
Pop has always been a driving force for me, yet professionalism and virtuosity alone don’t guarantee something worth hearing. The magic often hides in the space between precision and imperfection, where ideas can breathe and surprise you.
Did you foresee this moment, or does success still feel surprising? Is it necessary to chase major cities to build a career, as Nacho Vegas suggests?
There’s a simple dream: to stay in a hometown, in the warmth of a family place, while pursuing music. Success comes when dedication aligns with opportunity, and that often means staying rooted while moving forward. Dreams can come true with steady work and a clear vision.