Many Latin American singers have announced, albeit in broken English, their decisions to become crossover artists with the goal of appealing to a worldwide audience. Paulina Rubio, Carlos Ponce, RBD (these names probably don’t ring any bells): they all tried it with only limited success.

Juanes, who has recorded only in Spanish, has achieved the international acclaim that these Latin American artists strove for. Non-Spanish speakers have enjoyed Juanes’s music—no translation necessary. “La Vida...Es Un Ratico,” his first album in three years, happily proves no different.

The album opens with the lively, uplifting lyrics of “No Creo En El Jamás.” Juanes sings about living life fearlessly and surrendering to one’s passions, and the song accordingly feels like it’s sung in a single, energized breath. “Báilala” is bound to induce dancing in anyone who comes across it: the enlivening blend of caja vallenata (Colombian drums that are played between the knees) and electric guitar makes this the album’s most invigorating song.

Unlike the rest of Juanes’s albums, “La Vida...Es Un Ratico” has its fair share of ballads. Yet they prove to be just as great as—if not better than—his fast-paced rock songs. In “Hoy Me Voy,” which echoes past hit “Camisa Negra” in its content, Juanes’s voice comes through stronger than ever as he grieves over lost love, probably referencing his recent divorce.

“La Vida...Es Un Ratico”, which gives the album its title, is an embodiment of a carpe diem philosophy. “Let anything change except our love,” Juanes pleads with his significant other, begging her to keep their bond strong in times of adversity.

“Difícil” and “Tres,” near the end of the album, are the only songs that fall short of expectations. “Difícil” is a whiny ballad in which we hear Juanes’s falsetto for the first time, and hopefully the last. The song’s cheesy spoken monologue secures its place as the second worst song on the album—next to “Tres.” Too repetitive and too Latin American by anyone’s standards, it’s tough to get through from beginning to end.

Despite these two aberrations, Juanes delivers a solid album. What takes “La Vida” to higher levels is that it speaks on behalf of a region in need of much aid, and calls for much-needed action from unproductive leaders. Here, the influence of Juanes’s Latin American background becomes evident.

The timely lyrics of “Bandera de Manos” prove a perfect example: “Life gives us such ironies / while thousands die of hunger / leaders only stockpile weapons.” In “Minas Piedras” Juanes sings to the victims of mine fields (a cause he’s supported in the past) about their undying hope: “They don’t deserve to be forgotten / We are the voice of the people/ Says an old man sitting / With bandaged eyes / He will grasp unto hope.”

In a time when radio waves and dance parties are cluttered with culturally meaningless songs (think “Crank That” or “Gimme More?”), Juanes has produced yet another album that can be legitimately respected for both its sound and its content.

Although only Spanish speakers will understand the lyrics of “La Vida...Es Un Ratico,” the true essence of Juanes’s messages is multilingual. This universality, more prominent in this album than any other, is what earns Juanes a place on the world stage.