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The Prescription Is a Candy Bar That Never Ends: Mike Sain't Louis and the Right Not to Look Strong

In “Y sigo temblando siempre,” the Madrid indie alternative artist who calls himself “the first AI singer-songwriter” swaps the tidy comeback story for tears, chocolate and Spanish sitcoms

A man with curly black hair and a beard, wearing an open beige linen shirt over a white tank top that shows a chest tattoo, sits with tattooed forearms resting on his knees among sand dunes and dry grass, the sun setting behind him in an orange sky.
Mike Sain't Louis sitting on sand dunes at sunset, in a linen shirt over a white tank top.

MADRID, October 25, 2026 — Here is an unusual medical note for a breakup: halfway through his song “Y sigo temblando siempre” (“And I keep shaking, always”), the narrator takes stock of the damage and reaches a clinical conclusion. If this has gone wrong, he says, “necesito un eterno Kit Kat”: I need an eternal Kit Kat. Not a vacation. Not a therapist. Not a country weekend with a hot tub. A candy bar, but one that lasts forever.

The line belongs to Mike Sain't Louis, an indie alternative artist based in Madrid, Spain, who presents himself as “the first AI singer-songwriter.” He writes every lyric himself and works as composer, music producer, artistic director and CEO of his own independent label, MIKE SAIN'T LOUIS. The music and vocal performances on his records are generated with artificial intelligence, which he uses as a production and arranging tool; the voice is not his, but the words, the concept and the creative direction are. Over roughly two years he has released 273 singles and more than 280 music videos under the banner PLANETA GAYFOLK.

In a new post on his blog, he explains what that candy bar is really doing in the song.

A joke with a floor underneath

“I start with the silly part, because that’s where I always start,” he writes. The eternal Kit Kat, in his telling, is exactly what everyone does when something breaks. Nobody heals with slogans printed on mugs. You heal, or at least numb yourself, with whatever is in the kitchen at two in the morning: a candy bar, a jar of Nutella with the spoon still in it, a four-pack of custard cups. The old ad told you to take a break. He took that to its extreme. If the break has to last as long as the heartbreak, then make it infinite, with spare bars until the end of time.

There is self-parody in it. He pictures himself as one of those characters in an American romantic comedy crying on the couch with a tub of ice cream, “only in a Madrid neighborhood version, with a supermarket candy bar and a pilled tracksuit.”

But under the joke sits something serious. The eternal Kit Kat, he writes, is an admission that there is no fix. Pain is not repaired; it is kept company. And keeping it company with sugar is as legitimate as keeping it company with guided meditation. “I choose the sugar,” he says. “And I put it in the lyric.”

Written while it was still happening

The line that sums up the song is plain: “Y escribiendo estoy, estoy otra vez llorando” — and here I am writing, crying again. Mike says he left it in exactly as it came, in the middle of the song, “like leaving the bathroom door open.”

Some songwriters work cold, he explains. They sit down, step back, and assemble a song like flat-pack furniture with the instructions open beside them. He respects that, and he has songs built that way, mostly the pure comedy ones, which he calls “almost joke engineering.” This is not one of them. Some lyrics arrive while he is still inside the blow, and those come out wet.

You can hear it in the shape: long sentences tripping over one another, questions that don’t wait for answers, a chorus that repeats more like a gasp than a radio hook. “It’s not a polished song,” he writes. “It’s a song with its mascara running.” The narrator isn’t telling you something that happened. He’s telling you while it happens. That is why Mike refuses to let songs like this rest too long: if they sit, they cool, and they lose the one thing they have, the shaking.

He knows the trap. Writing from inside the pain can slide into sticky self-pity. So even here he adds candy and TV shows, “not as a brake but as a handrail.”

Crying in a corner, sitcom-style

The handrail is Spanish television. One line asks whether all the couple’s good moments were outtakes from La que se avecina or Caso cerrado. Another pictures the narrator slumped in a corner, crying, as if in a dramatic episode of La que se avecina.

For readers in the United States, Caso cerrado is the Spanish-language courtroom show many will recognize, and La que se avecina is a long-running Spanish ensemble sitcom about neighbors in a Madrid apartment building. Mike loves it as a mirror: everyone yells, everyone cheats, everyone survives by exaggerating. And now and then, between the canned laughs, a character is left alone on the landing and the camera catches wet eyes. “Those seconds,” he writes, “are the most honest thing on Spanish television.”

Why it lands here

American pop culture loves a comeback arc: the breakup, the montage, the glow-up. “Y sigo temblando siempre” refuses it. Mike says outright that he won’t write songs where the hero walks out of the tunnel with perfect hair and a lesson learned. That stance has a purpose beyond style. He has spoken publicly about turning years of relationships with narcissistic partners, with professional support, into music, so that people living through psychological abuse feel seen and believed. Not looking strong, in that context, is not a weakness. It is the point.

About the project

PLANETA GAYFOLK unfolds across a trilogy meant as a single journey: Descubierto un nuevo planeta llamado GAYFOLK, Ojalá se pudiera viajar a GAYFOLK and El día de la liberación, a trip to a planet where everyone can live as they are. The songs range from electropop to Spanish copla, from alternative pop to ballads, in Spanish and also English, French and Portuguese, and they cover love, exes, nosy neighbors, queer life in Spain, liberation and mental health. Many listeners found him in 2024, when “Tan Cateto” went viral on TikTok.

Where to listen

Every song, with its lyrics, can be streamed and downloaded free at https://mikesaintlouis.com. His music is also on Spotify, Deezer and other major platforms. Read the full post on his blog: https://mikesaintlouis.com/blog/escribiendo-estoy-otra-vez-llorando-el-kit-kat-eterno-y-el-derecho-a-no-parecer-fuerte

About Mike Sain't Louis

A Madrid lyricist and producer working in indie alternative music, Mike Sain't Louis calls himself the first AI singer-songwriter. He writes the words, directs his own videos and runs his label with no middlemen, letting AI handle the music and the vocals while he decides what every song says. Instagram: @planetagayfolk.

Press Contact

Email: info@mikesaintlouis.com Website: https://mikesaintlouis.com