“Strange splendor of fantasy”: A Reflection On Kali Uchis’s Latest Album
by Melissa Martínez-Raga
A clashing aesthetic of baby pink and black leather, Sin Miedo works wonders as Uchis’ newest record.
It was less than three years ago when Karly-Marina Loaiza, better known as Kali Uchis, released her debut album and positively rocked my world. Isolation accompanied me during that last push at the end of my first year in college, during that first summer back home after Hurricane María when nothing was the same. Now I sit, writing, where I’ve been working since April, since Kali Uchis’s To Feel Alive EP previewed the ethereal atmosphere that would also come to surround her follow-up Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios) ∞ (Fearless [of Love and Other Demons] ∞) six months later.
As opposed to most of her previous work, Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios) ∞ stands out as a mostly Spanish language project, an exciting subversion of expectations for the Colombian American singer-songwriter. Perhaps the first clue into her artistry can be found in the García Márquez title in parenthesis. Where Isolation centers around the earthly and metaphysical challenges of the American Dream, Sin Miedo’s thirteen tracks push towards a dreamy landscape where desire is as valid as none at all during the search for love and freedom. It tells a fearless story about honoring and respecting change. Nonetheless, Kali Uchis pulls from a recognizable range of genres within both the Spanish and English language musical traditions: reggeaton, hip-hop, rap, jazz, bolero, R&B, among others. Indeed, with a few covers and many original songs, the album triumphs as both a familiar and refreshing take on the music of her childhood.
An interpretation of the instrumental “La luna en tu mirada” (“The moon in your look”) by Ry Cooder and Manuel Galban, “la luna enamorada” (“the moon in love”) launches the record into a passionate intergalactic space of neobolero. A classic reggeaton voicemail-like beginning—“And what did you think, that I was going to roll over and die? Revenge is sweet, you know, very sweet”—blends smoothly into airy high notes. Combining a women-centered sci-fi with sensuous bongos, Kali Uchis’s unexpectedly deep voice then enchants us all the way till the final thrum of the guitar. A barely two-minute tune, it leaves us waiting for more, like “que te pedí//” (“what did I ask for”) provides later on. Halfway through the album, “que te pedí//,” a shortened cover of La Lupe’s song by the same name, serves as another neobolero interlude of sorts about doing the most for someone who doesn’t return the effort.
But after the romance enveloping “la luna enamorada,” it’s “fue mejor” (“it was better”) with PartyNextDoor that picks up on a vibe much like The Weeknd. Despite the heartbreak reputation of such a tune, Kali uses it to assure the couple is better off in their separate ways. Showing off her vocal range even further, a similar mood is brought forth by “vaya con dios” (“go with god”). A soulful rock about a lost love in our fake world, “vaya con dios” is personally reminiscent of 90s UK rock, early Shakira, The Neighbourhood, and Lana del Rey. Even Jorja Smith, Kali Uchis’s sometimes tour partner and another of my favorite artists at the moment, comes to mind with this goosebump-raising melody. Yet it’s songs like “no eres tú (soy yo)” (“it’s not you [it’s me]”), a Bad Bunnyesque downtempo trap about a heartbreaker living in dreamland, and “la luz (fin)” (“the light [end]”), a drum-heavy reggaeton featuring an outro duet with Jhay Cortez, that show the danceable dimensions of Kali Uchis’s slower bops.
Uchis in “la luna enamorada” music video.
The faster-paced ones did not disappoint, of course. “¡aquí yo mando!” (“I lead here!”) with sugar trap queen Rico Nasty shines as the bad bitch anthem of Sin Miedo. A flawless mix of sang and rapped Spanglish, this hip-hop track has us shaking our asses to references to Tego Calderón and Romeo Santos. However, the banger that most sounds like old-school perreo is “te pongo mal (préndelo)” (“I make you crazy [turn it up]”), which portrays a flirty exchange between Kali Uchis and Jowell & Randy. And we can’t forget about “de nadie” (“no one’s”), an Afrobeats-type warning about Kali Uchis’s fame as bipolar for keeping it real at all times. Though the sentiment reminds me of KAINA’s “Green,” and the rhythm of Drake’s hit “Controlla,” the chopped and screwed outro prompts a slow-grinding end to the booty bop.
Despite the compelling switch-up of “de nadie,” “//aguardiente y limón %ᵕ‿‿ᵕ%” (“schnapps and lemon”) is undoubtedly my favorite number. A bass-led bebop, I comfortably agree with Master Steve that a Solange remix would suit this Edenic tune so well. The jivey sexiness of “//aguardiente y limón %ᵕ‿‿ᵕ%” turns funky fresh with “quiero sentirme bien” (“I want to feel good”), a drum-led Mariah Carey-like R&B about loving and healing. “telepatía” (“telepathy”) then follows with an even funkier Free Nationals or Tyler the Creator vibe. Much like an evolved “El Teléfono,” this harp-filled neo-soul discloses Kali Uchis’s wonder at “making love through telepathy,” or finding pleasure through powerful thoughts.
Though present in Kali Uchis’s previous recordings, angel, moon, sky, and dreamscape motifs abound in Sin Miedo. Matching the sublime quality of these ideas, ethereal guitars and echoing voices produce the final track, “ángel sin cielo” (“heavenless angel”), a sombre ballad about living the one life we have without fear and obligations. The chopped and screwed effect here offers us a final floating dandelion-like feeling—melancholic but unconcluded. The span of musical traditions across decades influencing this album might alone serve as indication that Kali Uchis’s evocative art is to be continued.
“If it’s true life is what you make it / All the seed I planted will grow, grow, grow, grow, grow ... ”
A dot-dot-dot floating into space is a lot like what 2020 has felt like. Many of our dreams and aspirations have crumbled, or grown through unexpected ways. This time last year, Kali Uchis herself claimed on Twitter that her single “Solita” was a one-time song she needed to get out of her system—and look at her now, with a Spanish language album at the top of the U.S. and global music charts. I remember cringing at Rosalía’s claim that her music was indeed música latina, and wishing more Black and women and queer artists from Latin America and the U.S. diaspora could receive even a crumb of the hype this white Spaniard gets. As I jam to Sin Miedo and Sech’s 1 of 1 and Ana Macho’s Bairopolis during quarantine, I leave my own crumb of motivation: at least something has—and can further—change for a better alternative after this year. Pa’lante y sin miedo.
Further reads:
Isolation Interview Rolling Stones
Album Drop Remezcla
Race and Reggaeton Washington Post