Manu Chao is a fascinating personality in the spanish music world. He was born in Paris in 1961 from a family of Spanish immigrants, refugees of the Spanish Civil War. Started his career as a street musician, playing in the underground. He even joined some bands such as Hot Pants and Los Carayos while still being very young. At a certain point, besides his brother Antoine and a few friends of him, he founded the Hip Hop band, Mano Negra. They finally obtained a noticeable success, especially when they signed with Virgin Records to make the album called “Puta’s Fever” which included their widely recognized global hit, “King Kong Five.”

After quite different vicissitudes, once he already left the band, he publishes his second solo album, “Próxima Estación, Esperanza (Next Stop, Hopeness)” which gains him a lot of prestige. The album includes excellent songs, such as “Mr. Bobby,” dedicated to Bob Marley, “Me Gustas Tú” or the one I’m sharing here, which is a favorite of mine, “Mi Vida.” This is a live version at The Henry Rollins Show:

Mi Vida

Mi vida, lucerito sin vela
Mi sangre de la herida
No me hagas sufrir más
Mi vida, bala perdida
Por la Gran Vía,
Charquito de arrabal
No quiero que te vayas
No quiero que te alejes
Cada día más y más

Mi vida, lucerito sin vela
Mi sangre de la herida
No me hagas sufrir más
Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh [bis]

Mi vida, charquito d’agua turbia
Burbuja de jabón
Mi último refugio,
Mi última ilusión
No quiero que te vayas
Cada día más y más

Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh (“sube mi puebloo!”)

Mi vida, lucerito sin vela
Mi sangre de la herida
No me hagas sufrir más
Mi vida, bala perdida
Por la gran vía,
Charquito de arrabal

Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh [bis]

My Life’s Love

My life’s love, small bright flame without a candle
Blood from my bleeding wound
Don’t make me suffer anymore
My life’s love, lost bullet
on Main Street (1)*,
Small puddle of suburban neighborhood
Don’t want you to walk away
I don’t want you to walk away from me
More and more each day

My life’s love, small bright flame without a candle
Blood from my bleeding wound
Don’t make me suffer anymore
Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh [bis]

My life’s love, small muddy water’s puddle (2)*
Soap bubble (3)*
My last refuge,
My last illusion
I don’t want you to walk away
More and more each day

Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh (“come up my people!”)

My life’s love, small bright flame without a candle
Blood from my bleeding wound
Don’t make me suffer anymore
My life’s love, lost bullet
on Main Street (1)*,
Small puddle of suburban neighborhood.

Ioeeeeeeh uooooh uooooh ioeeeeeh [bis]

(*) Translator notes:

• (1) he says she’s a lost soul making the streets in Gran Via de Madrid.
• (2) he says she’s like a small puddle of muddy water.
• (3) I guess he means she’s as soft and fragil as a bubble, beautiful and unstable, something you may love but can not touch, because it becomes instantly broken or lost.

Here you can find an acoustic version of the same song; much slower than the TV show version shown above. I love the way he does it here, so slow, so heartbreaking:

The song talks about broken dreams; the kind of loss one can feel when the last hour comes. It is for me about something you know you are missing that you will never have a chance to retrieve anymore.

I also want to share another acoustic version of this song, performed live in Radio Nikosia, Barcelona, on March 13, 2013. Quite intimate:

Still oddly stirring the album version, in which we can listen to a repetitive voiceover telling “Aqui no pegamos a los ojos (We don’t hit to the eyes here).” This is doubtlessly evocative, suggesting something bigger, as if the character were facing an oppressive situation, torture or something similar, while reminding the one he loves:

A song about missing that lost soul that you thought was your twin. It might have nothing to do with it, but for some reason it reminds me of a Bob Dylan line that says: “I been in trouble ever since I set my suitcase down;” Maybe because it makes reference to that moment in life in which one realizes that you can not go ahead with a suitcase full of broken dreams.

The Hypnotist Collector