When it comes to Buika in concert, I just let go and try not to understand every word. Even though my Spanish isn’t so great, her voice is the closest thing to a universal language that I’ve encountered. Her vocalizations embody the excruciating pain, suffering, loss and longing that she has experienced—and that we’ve all experienced—on our wicked little journeys through life.

Concha Buika.

In “Sueño Con Ella,” a song from Buika’s 2011 album “En Mi Piel,” she sings, “Y yo sueño con ella, y yo sueño con ella…Hay un gato mato marrón, caracolas de mar bajo la luna lunera. En el aire hay amor, todo tiene el color de la rosa tempranera, ahora entiendo el por qué cuando se fue de mí llovió una semana entera, en el calor de esta noche yo sueño con ella…”

Brief translation: When she left her, it rained for a whole week. In the heat of the night, she dreamt with a brown cat. However, what these lyrics can’t ever accurately capture is Buika’s voice. Its earthy, throat-scratching soulfulness resonates long after she’s sung that last line.

For example, there was a point in the concert when Buika asked the musicians to stop playing. “The music is in the silence,” Buika said. “The music comes from very, very far—and you must allow it time to arrive.” As Buika cracked her neck with her eyes closed, there seemed to be a collective awareness of what she meant. We understood that there is music in the silence and it is ancient. And it is in us. We must be patient and open to receive its gift.

NPR called Buika, “the voice of freedom.” Freedom from what, I ask. Her voice is honest and real. It cuts the listener open. Each utterance simultaneously reveals and heals the wounds and scars that mark her life. The voice of redemption, of healing, of freedom, of whatever you want to call it. In the end, what matters most is what we felt when we heard Buika perform on stage at the Knight Concert Hall. That feeling that will always exist in that space—in the walls, the floors, the seat cushions, in the silences and even in our dreams. Buika is the voice of our collective memory.

If you missed Buika this year, follow her online and catch the next concert in Miami. She should not be missed. www.conchabuikamusic.com