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Euphoric and bittersweet, Louis Matute's music is uniquely his own. Caught between his native Europe and the Latin America he dreamed of, this young man (who is barely thirty years old) is too genuine for the fiction of reality and too sincere for the fiction of self, swinging wide open the doors to his universe. It's a room with a view where guitars in shades of green, red, blue, and white captivate passing friends. It's a curious ear that strolls through Radiohead or Ebo Taylor. It's the scent of coffee, travel photos, a reflection in the mirror, small rivers, and big questions. All of this - life itself! - is at Louis Matute's fingertips. A sound, a wild talent as a storyteller, a folklore taking shape: in this magnificent fourth album, his music has never seemed so close and abundant. "I have never written a melody without singing it at the same time," he confides. Tinged with pop and saudade, these melodies will go straight to your heart, leaving a hint of magic lingering in the air.