Learn Spanish With Fito Páez with these 17 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Brillante Sobre El Mic - EADDA9223 unites Argentine legend Fito Páez with Mexican sensation Ángela Aguilar in a tender, indie-rock waltz about the memories we treasure and the moments we choose to leave behind. The lyrics list fragrances, silences, moon phases and secret oceans to paint a scrapbook of feelings that refuse to fade. Time keeps pushing the couple “allá” yet they cling to the warmth of the present sun, deciding to simply love, cry and let the clock erase the pain.
At the song’s core is one cinematic image: a heart “brillante sobre el mic”—shining over the microphone—when the performer drops every mask and sings only for love. By witnessing that raw sparkle, the narrator discovers what truly matters: the honest pulses hidden beneath applause, the sweet souvenirs worth carrying forward, and the courage to toss everything else aside. Listeners are invited to celebrate their own keepsakes, accept life’s fleeting glow and keep singing with hearts held high.
“El Amor Después del Amor” is Fito Páez’s sparkling reminder that the heart can rise again even after the fiercest storm. Opening with the image of a sunray breaking through the clouds, the song paints love after heartbreak as something warmer, brighter, and more authentic than the first time around. Páez moves from searching and hurting to finding a new, life-giving connection, suggesting that pain’s lingering “perfume” can actually guide us toward deeper affection. In his unmistakably poetic voice, he tells listeners that true strength is born in the very place where we once felt weakest, and that knowing ourselves is inseparable from learning to love someone else.
Running on catchy melodies and rock-pop energy, the chorus delivers its universal mantra: nobody can or should live without love. Keys and doors become playful symbols of mutual trust — your love unlocks me, my love unlocks you. The song blends spirituality (“in the essence of souls,” “every religion says”) with everyday passion, turning a personal rebirth into an anthem for anyone who has ever feared they might never love again. By the final refrain, Páez leaves us convinced that what comes after heartbreak is not a lesser sequel but the most luminous chapter of all.
“Creo” invites us into Fito Páez’s inner monologue, where memory, longing, and optimism swirl together in a single breath. The repeated “creo” (I believe) feels like a heartbeat that keeps the singer moving forward as he senses his former lover might still be thinking of him. Between lines about life, death, and stepping out to feel the sun, Páez paints snapshots of a romance that once burned brightly. We glimpse that magic moment when he opened the door to find her, watched her dance to the Beatles, and felt he had reached “the summit of love.”
Yet this is not a song of simple nostalgia. Each belief he states is a small act of hope: hope that sadness will lift, that she will walk through that door again, that shared memories still matter. In the end Páez decides belief itself is enough — “Yo creo y con eso basta” — reminding us that sometimes the power of love lives on in the simple choice to keep believing.
**Fito Páez invites us into a secret, late–night rendezvous with his song “Corazón Clandestino.” The title itself means “Clandestine Heart,” hinting at a love that must stay hidden from the outside world. Throughout the lyric, the heart “always crashes head-on,” refusing to play it safe. The repeated setting of “la medianoche” (midnight) paints the scene as a time when rules fade, lights dim, and true feelings burst out like fireworks.
Nothing is forbidden under this roof. With that simple line Páez celebrates a space where passion makes its own laws. He vows, “If I go looking for you, consider it done,” yet quickly adds, “No matter how much you love me, nothing changes.” These two ideas pull against each other: unstoppable desire versus the sobering fact that secrecy can never grow into something public. In the end the clandestine heart remains “wrapped in flames,” glowing fiercely but destined to keep burning out of sight.
Enciende El Amor paints a vivid cinematic scene in which Fito Páez blends memories, nature and a touch of psychedelia to celebrate the spark that love ignites. The lyrics move from echoes of a departing lover’s heartbeat to lush images of ferns being watered, a child sipping sunlight by the river and flowers bursting into rainbow colors. Each picture feels like a frame in a dreamy film, showing how life renews itself the moment music starts playing and the sun begins to rise.
With every chorus, the song shifts from quiet nostalgia to explosive joy: “Se abren los corazones / Se enciende el amor.” Páez suggests that true love is a force of nature, as inevitable and radiant as dawn—capable of drawing us away from the shore of everyday life into waves of wonder, laughter and even tears of release. Wrapped in tropical references, shimmering melodies and the light haze of youthful experimentation, the track invites listeners to open their own hearts, let the music in and feel their entire world light up again.
“Sus Auriculares” is Fito Páez’s affectionate postcard to a larger-than-life friend, a street-wise mentor who breezed through the world with Rickenbacker in hand and headphones always on. The lyrics jump from skipping restaurant tabs to late-night brawls at the disco, from scribbling truths on scrap paper to chucking a CP-70 piano in heartbreak. Through these vivid snapshots Fito shows us someone who taught him the beauty of living light, of never chaining yourself to anything when “el mundo tira para abajo,” and of using music as both shield and megaphone.
At its core the song celebrates freedom, honesty and camaraderie: wear a mask and the truth still leaks out, help the dying stranger, ignore the impostor, remember that “la música no es de nadie.” The ever-present headphones become a symbol of shared passion; they carried his friend through the chaos and now carry Fito’s memories. By the time the chorus invites “que cante la gente,” we feel the warmth of that friendship and the rebellious spirit that keeps rock - and anyone chasing their own sound - alive.
Pack your bags and fasten your seatbelt! In “Diosa Del Sol,” Argentine legend Fito Páez paints a radiant portrait of a woman who is part muse, part mythological goddess, and 100 percent unstoppable wanderer. We see her stroll through Miraflores under the Peruvian sun, dive into Japanese waves like a siren, and let Himalayan bells echo her prayers in Nepal. Every city crowns her anew: Salomé in Baghdad, Ishtar in Babylon, a fearless acrobat leaping from the Eiffel Tower. Her journey is a whirlwind of cultures, legends, and emotions, suggesting that true divinity lies in curiosity and freedom.
Yet beneath the postcard moments runs a love story. The narrator follows her trail with wide-eyed wonder until, in Dublin, even James Joyce falls under her spell. By the time she circles back to Lima and drifts to sleep between the Puente and La Alameda, we realize the song is both a celebration of her boundless spirit and a tender confession: the world may try to claim her, but the singer’s heart already has. Let “Diosa Del Sol” remind you that exploring new horizons—geographical, cultural, or emotional—can turn anyone into a sun-kissed deity.
Hogar takes us on a whirlwind tour through Argentina’s convulsive recent history while zooming in on one man’s search for belonging. Fito Páez stitches together memories of a motherless childhood, military repression, bodies thrown into rivers, the AIDS crisis, and the wild artistic underground of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Every reference feels like a snapshot: “el mundo andaba de botas” paints soldiers’ boots on the streets, “mami, morimos de sida” echoes the fear of a new epidemic, and the image of locos haciendo piruetas shows artists turning pain into performance. These lines blend personal loss with collective trauma, reminding us how everyday life and national tragedy often overlap.
Yet beneath the darkness runs a resilient pulse of hope. By the end, Páez looks straight at the listener and says: “Vamos a hacer una casa, un nuevo hogar bajo el sol.” After surviving dictatorship, disease, and decades of disillusion, he still believes in building something new—a loving home, a safe space, a fresh start. The song is a bittersweet affirmation that, no matter how chaotic the past, we can still choose connection, creativity, and light.
Un Ángel Abrió Alas turns a late-night stumble into a mystical revelation. Fito Páez paints a cinematic moment: Death barges in like a tipsy party crasher, yet in the same shiver of fear an angel unfurls its wings, flooding the room with a blinding splendor. With one more swig of liquor the narrator watches a sun-beam sweep away every ghost, reminding us that even in the darkest hours light can break through.
Out on the street, still "casi loco, medio borracho," a child’s grin becomes another angelic sign. A golden glow ecualiza his soul and whispers, “keep going.” The chorus wraps it all up: amidst the wild vineyard of life there is nothing better than being alive right now. The song is a toast to resilience, finding beauty in chaos, and letting brief flashes of innocence guide us through the noisy, intoxicating world of today.
Sin Mi En Vos is Fito Páez’s upbeat postcard of pure, almost breathless longing. From the first lines we meet a narrator who cannot do the simplest things—walk down the street, hop on a bus, even board a plane—without thinking of the woman he loves. He remembers the spark of their first encounter, laughs at the quirky little family they now share (Pedro, Olivia, Mozart, La Chicha, Miguelito and Pantaleón), and feels an electric “fusión” that refuses to let him go.
The chorus turns that feeling into an urgent plea: “Cada segundo que pasa sin mí en vos”—every second that passes without me inside you—hurts. So he imagines the perfect cure: run away together, dance, open a cold drink, and make love until there is no distance left. The song is a celebration of passionate togetherness, painted with everyday images that make the emotion feel as real as your next breath.
“Encuentros Cercanos” is Fito Páez’s playful invitation to look at love through a sci-fi telescope. It starts with a casual question about UFOs and quickly lifts off into a star-strewn adventure where romance, friendship and outer-space curiosity blur together. By name-checking Fabi (his longtime musical and sentimental partner Fabi Cantilo), Fito suggests that believing in flying saucers is no crazier than falling head-over-heels for “the most beautiful girl in the world.” From there, the couple rides an imaginary spacecraft from Uranus to Saturn, proving that affection can be as limitless as the cosmos. Along the journey the song sprinkles pop-culture jokes, cosmic imagery and a wink to the cult movie Mars Attacks!, all to remind us that our shared fantasies—cinema, music, love—bind us together in the vastness of space.
Beneath its humorous surface, the track hides a gentle manifesto: the universe might be huge and chaotic, yet we are never truly alone. Fito alternates between optimism (“don’t worry, man”) and earthly anxiety (“the house is on fire, there’s nothing to eat”), mirroring the everyday turbulence of relationships. Ultimately, he lands on a hopeful note: the right song—symbolized by the borrowed record “Indian Love Call”—can rescue us from any cosmic or personal meltdown. In other words, when reality feels alien, crank up the music, hold someone close and trust that love is the greatest close encounter of them all.
Todo Se Olvida is Fito Páez’s vibrant love letter to life, sung from the deck of an imaginary ship bound for “la tormenta perfecta.” The Argentine rocker celebrates love as the only force that grants true freedom, yet he never hides its fragility: it is not stronger than death, and it often sails through chaos. Instead of longing for flawless purity, Páez delights in the mess—he watches boats depart, smiles at their risky voyage, and admits that in disorder he finds “el corazón de la fiesta.”
The song unfolds like a carnival of contradictions: we adore impossible loves, deny the gods, conjure water from stone, then roll happily in the mud. Páez’s rebellious spirit refuses to join fashionable ideologies; he prefers to raise delirious flags, conquer planets of imagination, and keep singing with untamed passion. Ultimately, his message is simple and liberating: let’s keep dancing, embrace every imperfect moment, and remember that after the music fades, everything else is forgotten.
La Conquista del Espacio turns the classic idea of conquest upside-down. Instead of armies and flags, Fito Páez sends out guitars, pianos, and fearless honesty. The Argentine icon invites us to travel from small towns to big capitals, carrying music “alrededor del sol,” lighting campfires where every chord sparks kisses, hugs, and new friendships. Each repeated phrase—“la conquista de tu libertad,” “la conquista de decirnos la verdad”—marks a frontier we can win with art, sincerity, and shared joy, not force.
Yet the song isn’t just festive; it’s a gentle protest against a world numbed by the slogan “sálvese quien pueda” (“save yourself if you can”). Páez warns that self-interest makes us insensitive, then reminds us that our hearts still hold ancient melodies waiting to be sung together. By the time the chorus circles back, conquest has become a rallying cry for reclaiming public streets, personal freedom, and the right to feel. In short, this anthem urges you to grab your inner guitar, aim for the stars, and help build a new world where love, art, and community are the real trophies of victory.
Fito Páez invites us on a turbulent flight through guilt, loss and the desperate search for redemption. Opening with the blunt confession “Yo te lastimé,” the singer watches his lover flee toward otro amanecer while he boards a plane to nowhere, blinded by the very sunlight that once warmed their love. Freedom feels thrilling yet empty, and the world becomes a blur of shadows and flashes of clarity where truth patiently waits at your doorstep.
Yet Resucitar is not a tale of defeat. In the chorus Páez turns from anguish to possibility, reminding us that the heart receives mysterious señales del amor that can pull us back from despair. The song celebrates the moment we stop running, face our mistakes and allow love to breathe new life into us. No matter how deep the wound, honesty and hope can make us resurrect—again, and again.
Imagine a post-apocalyptic comic book splashed with neon radiation and tender kisses. That is the playground Fito Páez invents in La Mujer Torso Y El Hombre De La Cola De Ameba, where a silent, dismembered woman and a blind, mutant man fall in love amid poisoned seas, bronze-winged flies, and killer rats. The images are grotesque on purpose: bones mixed with metal, radioactive kisses, and a RAM chip plugged into a dream of freedom. Through this surreal sci-fi setting, Páez paints the consequences of nuclear disaster while celebrating the stubborn pulse of human affection.
Beneath the wild visuals lies a very human message. Love and memory become the last refuge when society forbids emotion and the landscape is rotten. Even in a world ruined by a "second Hiroshima," the couple clings to the memory of a sunlit wheat field and transmits secret dreams through underground circuits. The song turns horror into hope, reminding us that creativity, desire, and the wish to be free can glow brighter than any radioactive night.
Fito Páez turns pure devotion into music with “Margarita,” a sparkling love letter to his young daughter. From the very first line, he celebrates how her simple act of waking up fills his world with light. Every te quiero and playful image—riding a winged horse, chasing yellow dragonflies, and dreaming of trips to the moon—shows a father inviting his child to explore life’s magic without fear. The song’s infectious joy reminds us that real happiness can be as easy as sharing a meal in two, laughing together, and believing with all your heart.
Beyond its whimsical fantasy, “Margarita” carries an empowering message: embrace life, love boldly, and open the world like a flower. Páez sings that he will always be there, ready to laugh, protect, and cheer on every new adventure. It is both a lullaby and an anthem, wrapping a parent’s unwavering support in vivid, colorful imagery that inspires listeners of any age to shout, “¡Que viva el mundo y viva la vida!”
Fito Páez, one of Argentina’s most beloved rock storytellers, sings about a powerful rebirth in El Amor Después del Amor. According to the lyrics, the love that comes after heartbreak feels like “a ray of sun”: warm, dazzling, and impossible to ignore. By searching through memories of pain — “the perfume that leads to sorrow” — the singer discovers a fresh, luminous connection that redefines who he is. This second-chance love turns past wounds into new strength, proving that we can rise brighter than before.
The chorus insists that “nobody can and nobody should live without love,” turning the song into an anthem for emotional resilience. Two metaphorical keys — my love and your love — unlock a shared future, reminding us that affection is not a luxury but a vital human need. In just a few verses, Páez captures the journey from loss to self-knowledge to radiant hope, encouraging listeners to believe that the best kind of love is often the one that arrives después del amor.