"Chicano Batman is essentially a way of championing the underdog," Bardo Martinez told Billboard in 2015, while they toured with Jack White and grappled with the good and bad comments about how was it possible for a Latin band to open every night for him.

Now, five years later, their new album adheres to that idea with lyrics that speak of the discrimination and pain of the refugee, without drama, without any complex, and others about the longing for an impossible love, this time with all the sugar, fantasy and tears of clothing that you may want in the lyrics.

Throughout the album, a funky guitar is accompanied by the dirty, slightly distorted sound of the synthesizers, a simple and deep bass and a dry-sounding drum kit, almost without any highlights, which balances out the intense emotions of the lyrics very well.

There is not a day that goes byThat I don't think of youYou're the center of the firmamentThe essence of all permanenceYou make me shake in my sleepI wish I could always keep you

The achievement of these songs is that the emotional limit to which the lyrics go is compensated by the music and that's why they don't become cloying.

Invisible People, Manuel's Song, Polymetronic Harmony, The Way and The Prophet speak of another kind of pain: the pain that comes from structural violence, from having to seek refuge in another country because of drug trafficking, from selling one's soul to money.

Perhaps Invisible People, the song that gives its name to the album, is the one that speaks to us most directly at this historic moment: between the pandemic, the economic recession, the galloping racial discrimination and the wave of anti-racist protests that we are seeing.

It's a song that the way to do it justice is simply to sit calmly, in silence, and listen.

Invisible peopleWe're tired of living in the darkEveryone is trying to tear us apartAll we wanna do is heal nowSmoke a spliff so I can feel now, yeah