Researchers propose a thought exercise: ask someone over 30 to repeat the phrase “you have brown skin.” The expected reply often lands on “in the sand.” This stems from a line in a summer 1993 song that still echoes decades later. The track that topped charts by selling around 600,000 copies was called ‘Ella,’ performed by a duo known as Viceversa. The two members were the Beato brothers, Ángel and Carlos, or so the name suggested by their joined roles.
The dynamic has shifted; today only one member remains in the spotlight. The angelic part of the duo is solo again. “My bond with my brother Carlos lasted 25 years and it’s finished. He carries the weight now. He never shared the music’s ambitions; he moved into care work. I brought him into the band because recording the demo cost 90,000 pesetas while I owed 15,000. He lent me the money to join—so it began. But the truth is I carried the project from the start.”
Ángel Beato spoke to EL PERIÓDICO DE ESPAÑA, reflecting at the doorway of a nightclub where the scene once thrived. The project persists, now focusing on intimate venues and short appearances. This is the known range of motion: small rooms. He has not released new songs since 2009, after taking a swing at Eurovision through a TV contest. Yet, three decades later, he continues to push the song ‘Tu piel morena’ onto stages: “People love it. Young and old. This tune stays timeless,” he says.
That live performance is part of a Catalan project titled “Party of your life,” which looks back at the famed nightclubs of the 1980s and 1990s. The plan expects more than 30 events in the coming months, featuring period artists such as Loquillo. Viceversa, or Ángel Beato, was the artist chosen for a session at the now-defunct nightclub. Terrassa stands as the city’s memory hub. In that same old neighborhood, a venue named Pick Wick has risen as a modern echo of the era.
A Casio in Barcelona
“I started in music when my mother bought me a Casio PT12 keyboard in Barcelona. I learned to play, sing, and write songs,” Ángel recalls, just before the party begins. “I recorded a three-track demo at home and sent it to a production company. They liked it but initially dismissed ‘Ella’ without hearing the chorus. They asked me for four more songs, so I reinserted ‘Ella’ because I had nothing else. They listened and said, ‘This will be the summer song.’”
That prediction came true in 1993, when post-Olympic Spain embraced techno-pop sung in Catalan by a duo. OBK rode a wave of formulas that worked, while other acts with similar vibes—like Exit or Refuge—shared the spotlight. The two brothers from Badalona claimed a single, magnetic identity: VOICE of a sound. “People whispered we were a couple, even gay, though we knew we were siblings,” he recalls.
The single became a hit from its release, selling about 600,000 copies. Telecinco’s music show La Quinta Marcha, hosted by Penélope Cruz and Jesús Vázquez, helped propel the track. They performed to packed stadiums in Spain and toured to Argentina and Mexico. Ángel remembers a moment when Puerto Rico’s island markets produced around 60,000 sales—an analogy he uses to describe the scale elsewhere. “That era meant an intense lifestyle—sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” he admits, acknowledging the moment’s temptations and triumphs.
72-Year-Old DJ
The Pick Wick room fills with music hours before Ángel Beato’s set. The long queue outside testifies to a revival that invites people back to nights they once cherished. Among the crowd is Joan Aymerich, 72, a veteran DJ with more than five decades behind the decks. He and Ángel Tutan, the lead manager from the original number-one room, together orchestrate a remembrance session that many young DJs would envy.
The lyric about a brown-skinned love had a real name: Mónica Serrano from Badalona, in the Lloreda district. She was his girlfriend, then his wife. They split about twelve years ago, but they share a daughter named Andrea. He sometimes meets at parties and hears the old track, claiming possession of the memory even as time passes. Ángel hums Pet Shop Boys while answering questions.
Ángel notes that the group carried a “one-hit wonder” label, a badge he wears without bitterness. The ache of that label doesn’t bother him. He points out the hard truth: the music industry is unforgiving, and the chase for fame isn’t easy. For him, the song remains a lasting legacy, a mark of who he is and who he believes himself to be. He insists the song’s fame shaped a lifetime, not a moment, and he will continue with that truth.
The band drifted apart, and the scene moved on from Spanish technoband fame. Ángel stayed connected to music, contributing to various editions of Operación Triunfo with Vale Music and writing songs for other artists. The royalties from that signature track keep funding his ongoing work. Among Viceversa’s top five Spotify entries, the original “Ella” sits at the top with millions of views; a later version by another artist, Karam, gathers hundreds of thousands; a track titled “A true friend” follows with hundreds of thousands; and other cuts trail behind. The absence of broad variety made the 2006 compilation Lo mejor de Viceversa less successful. A 2009 Eurovision attempt faded, and while the duo celebrated a 25th anniversary with performances, Carlos left the band for good. Ángel avoids dwelling on the specifics, explaining that his focus was always on the music and the stage—where he belongs.
At 2:30 a.m., with the room full and warm, Ángel’s solo set begins. He promises four songs but delivers three, leaning on lip-synced vocals and a single keyboard for ambiance as his brother is no longer present. He dances in the glow of the crowd, then returns to the mic for the climactic moment. The second set, a crowd favorite, brings back the familiar ‘Ella,’ and the audience sings along as if nothing has changed—just louder, more heartfelt. The final moments echo the Alaska version, a touch that reminds everyone of how far the memory travels. The audience stays long into the night, savoring the return of a tune that defined an era.
The public response remains warm because these parties reconnect people with a time when nights mattered. Ángel completes his show and steps back into the crowd with a promise: a busy tour continues from Terrassa to Murcia, then Almería, with more dates through the summer. He remains a solo act who remembers the past without bitterness and embraces the road ahead. The brown-skinned signature may belong to one person now, but the name Viceversa continues to carry its weight. For Ángel, saying goodbye to what brought him joy is not easy, but the legacy endures. “That song changed everything for a kid from Badalona. I will keep performing it as long as people want to hear it. Maybe the day Viceversa ends will be the day I decide,” he says, letting the moment linger beyond the music.