Chamán

Chamán is one of those songs that doesn't sound like the rest of the album. With its five minutes and twelve seconds, it stands in the middle of Sueños Líquidos like a sonic journey where the guitar and drums intertwine in a rhythm that doesn't ask for permission. It's not just the tempo that makes it stand out: there's something in the mix of harmonics and percussion that evokes that coastal air of Puerto Vallarta, the place where the band recorded the album. Water, as a central element of the album, here is not just a lyrical theme, but almost an additional character in the song.

The recording of Sueños Líquidos in 1997 marked a turning point for Maná. The album was released in October of that year and, within months, surpassed one million copies sold in United States and Spain. Chamán was key to that leap: it gave the band their first Grammy in the category of Best Latin Rock/Alternative Performance, as well as a Premio Lo Nuestro. But beyond the accolades, what's interesting is how the song's sound —with its layers of guitars and that bass that seems to flow— reflects the spirit of the album: an attempt to capture the essence of water in every note.