Unlike how it usually goes down in the U.S., studying music at a collegiate level can actually pay off in Europe (the U.K. being a separate entity from that, as it has made clear—perhaps wanting to take all the credit for spawning music school graduates like Amy Winehouse and Adele). Rosalía seemed to be aware of that when she enrolled in the Catalonia College of Music (a.k.a. Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya). It was there that her debut album, Los Ángeles, would become, essentially, her “graduation project.” Released in 2017, it has the sort of album cover that reminds one of 90s-era Mariah Carey (specifically Music Box or Daydream). An association that bears remarking upon because, in Carey’s own early career, she hadn’t yet found the style that would truly set her apart until she had the confidence to take total control.
Collaborating on every cover song with producer Raül Refree, Rosalía established herself as someone of the flamenco scene, whose musical style was tailor-made for the tablaos of Spain rather than the sports arenas of America. But she was attracted to the sound, perhaps realizing she could reinvigorate it for a new generation after commenting, “To me, flamenco was Camarón [de la Isla], something of gypsy aesthetics, and when going back I found many other things that I loved. […] When I discovered cantaores like Niño de la Huerta or ‘El Gloria,’ ‘El Chiqui’ taught me to listen and appreciate their singing, because their recordings sound very bad! To people of our age that sound seems terrible to us.” But with Rosalía’s vocals, these “dusty old” tracks were given new life (sort of like what Madonna did to fado music on 2019’s Madame X).
And, being that the point of Los Ángeles was to provide a showcase of Rosalía’s talent as a soloist, original compositions took a backseat—instead, each of the cantes shared the thread of death as the overarching motif. And one might say that was a type of foreshadowing for Rosalía to kill off the very genre she established herself in… favoring the exploration of other styles that would quickly ascend her into the mainstream (which, funnily enough, took fellow March 18th record releaser Charli XCX five whole albums to achieve). But Rosalía was the first to admit of her debut, “I feel like with Los Ángeles, “I wanted to establish my musical legacy… and honor the classic sound of flamenco in the most traditional sense, respecting them to the maximum, with a pop and experimental structure, but with very basic instrumentation and a minimalist sound—just guitar and voice.” That she did, allowing her to branch out into pop and electronic sounds that still incorporated her flamenco roots. Which is precisely what she achieved on her 2018 breakout, El Mal Querer (literally, “the bad want”).
While few could get away with basing pop music off a classic piece of literature (in this case, Flamenca), Rosalía was able to achieve it seamlessly with her producer, El Guincho. As she had already stated of Los Ángeles, “It’s a way of saying that I am based on melodies and lyrics from cantes, but we turn it into something else. Those who know something about flamenco will be able to identify them, because we are influenced by that, but we do our own thing.” The same logic went for adapting each chapter in Flamenca to her own story in song form.
And so, having already broken so much creative ground in the span of two albums, it would almost be surprising to hear how much Motomami continues to set Rosalía apart from other musicians were it not for the many eclectic singles she released between 2018 and now. A veritable hodge-podge of sounds and collaborations—ranging from J Balvin to Billie Eilish. Ones that proved her “SAOKO.” A term Daddy Yankee once brought to the forefront with his single, “Saoco,” but now Rosalía has made it all her own, this word that infers being exceptional in movement, swag and flavor.
The perfect song to kick off the record because of its divergence from the sound on Rosalía’s previous albums, the chorus is a celebration of the human ability to constantly reinvent (particularly when one is a pop powerhouse and needs to keep people interested). Thus, Rosalía’s declaration (translated to English), “I am very much mine, I transform/A butterfly, I transform myself/Drag queen makeup, I transform/Star rain, I transform.” A fact Rosalía has proven time and time again, with Motomami being a new zenith that switches genres from one track to another as effortlessly as a politician’s flip-flopping stances. That’s why Rosalía put it best when she noted of “SAOKO”’s theme, “[It] celebrat(es) that you are always yourself even though you are in constant transformation or even that you are you more than ever at the very moment you are changing.”
And change she does, from one track to the next. Case in point, “CANDY.” In stark contrast to the brash arrogance of “SAOKO,” it is a jilted lover’s track, with Rosalía in said role as she goads, “Sé que tú/No me has olvidao’/No me has olvidao’/No me has olvidao’” (or: “I know that you/You haven’t forgotten me/You haven’t forgotten me/You haven’t forgotten me”). And yes, it does remind one of Rosalia’s collab with Eilish, “Lo Va a Olvidar.”
From this dramatic, “female scorned” anthem to “LA FAMA” featuring The Weeknd, the opening notes of the latter have become as indelible as the national anthem. And the message itself has already been well-trodden throughout most of The Weeknd’s career. Indeed, his entire mantra seems to be: don’t become famous—there’s too much Lynchian darkness. As is the case in the video for the song, directed by Director X. With Danny Trejo as “MC” at the club, he makes the announcement, “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce the following number. But, I must warn you, she’s not for everyone. She will pierce your heart, and she will be your only obsession.” Enter Rosalía, who takes the stage in a silver sequined ditty that previews plenty of skin to seduce. As the seeming embodiment for fame itself, Rosalía attracts The Weeknd’s interest from the crowd. And perhaps all those years spent in L.A. have helped him to hone his Spanish, for he sounds on par with fellow Angeleno Billie Eilish in his verses.
Meanwhile, Rosalía a.k.a. La Fama slowly makes her way toward him, alluring him just enough to keep him enticed with her “subtle” shaking. As The Weeknd gets comfortable enough to approach her on the stage by the end, he tries to kiss her. And she nearly makes him believe such a thing would be an actual possibility just before she stabs him instead. For that is the nature of La Fama, no? To be seductive and cruel. A cruelty that’s only emphasized by Danny Trejo announcing at the end: “Don’t forget: be careful what you wish for.” Without the video’s context, however, the lyrics themselves are more evocative of the plot of La La Land, with both lovers’ pursuit of fame ultimately outshining the love they once shared for each other—despite both knowing that fame can’t keep you warm on a lonely night (a blanket made of money as a result of said fame can though).
Unable to resist going back to those flamenco roots again, Rosalía provides “BULERÍAS” to fill that void. Another meditation on transformation in its own way, the lyrics in English assert, “To stay on my feet, I killed myself 24/7/That’s what I had to do.” Because to die a thousand (-plus) times is to be reborn just as many—and through all those times, Rosalía would still likely declare, in her own take on Sinatra’s signature, “I didn’t have to do anything that I didn’t want/And although now nobody sees it/I didn’t have to do anything that I regret or that I regret now.”
The tone of “BULERÍAS” is in sharp contrast to “CHICKEN TERIYAKI,” which more closely resembles the vibe of “SAOKO.” And it is with this song that the subject of Rosalía’s many past controversies regarding “appropriation” have seemed to come up. For no, it’s not white people alone who get accused of it (just ask someone like Nicki Minaj). From the Andalusians to the gypsies, Rosalía has drawn ire for “stealing” “their” music for herself. Rosalía responded to such criticism early on with, “…music doesn’t have an owner.” And Elvis Presley certainly knew that to be true. Whoever can bastardize a genre the most effectively for profit is, “in effect,” “the owner.” Until the next person comes along to “own” said genre.
As the most “TikTok sensation-y” of the record, “CHICKEN TERIYAKI” launched (well over) a thousand dance challenge responses to the choreo. The official video for which reminds one of a combination of Jennifer Beals performing to “Maniac” for the board at the Pittsburgh Conservatory and Teyana Taylor doing a sendup of that whole Flashdance vibe in Kanye West’s “Fade” video. As for the “meaning” behind the song, those quick to accuse Rosalía of appropriation might again come out of the woodwork if they realize she took some inspo from the “cuteness” of kawaii. In addition to taking little walks through NYC—where she likely saw a lot of things in contrast to boasting about her material girl prowess on this track (essentially her version of Ariana Grande’s “7 Rings”).
With “HENTAI,” Rosalía seems to want to remind us, once again, of her “softer side.” Sounding, in fact, v. Billie Eilish as she croons, “No pienses más/Na’ que pensar/Tan rico no puede ser/De cuero na’/Pero estoy encuera’/Te quiero ride/Como a mi bike/Hazme un tape/Modo spike/Yo la batí/Hasta que se montó/Segundo es chingarte/Lo primero e’ Dios.” While it might sound quite “pretty” in Spanish, what La Rosalía is saying is: “Don’t think anymore, nothing to think about/So tasty it can’t be/Nothing in leather, but I’m naked/I want to ride you like my bike/Make me a tape/Spike mode/I beat it until it was whipped/Second is fucking you, first is God.” How… complimentary?
The pace picks up again on “BIZCOCHITO,” featuring a ramped-up rhythm that finds Rosalía coming up with her own version of “I’m not your bitch/Don’t hang your shit on me” when she says, “I’m not and I won’t be your biscuit.” She also finds time to ask the philosophical question: “Are you the pimp or the one being pimped?” Her answer: “I chose my side from the day I was born.”
Maintaining the pattern of alternating between fast and slow rhythms, the down-tempo “G3 N15” follows. While New York gets the typical amount of “love” shown to it on this record, L.A. is, as usual, “subtly” shaded on this ballad wherein Rosalía addresses those “lost year(s)” of the pandemic while “marooned” in the City of Angels. As though she couldn’t take a plane somewhere in her position as a celebrity. Nonetheless, she shit-talks Los Angeles by singing to her nephew, “I’m in a place where I wouldn’t take you/No one at peace here between stars and needles/Marble stars cut into the floor/Papers all over the street where the models stroll by.” Excusing that, as she laments missing out on these key formative years of her nephew, we can’t help but be moved by this heart-wrenching number that so many can identify with. Corona having stolen precious time with family and friends from so many people. So it is that Rosalía concludes the song with a voice note from her grandmother (very Ariana on “bloodline,” by the way) that reminds, among other things, “La familia es tan importante/La familia siempre es importante.”
This abruptly segues into the interlude-like “MOTOMAMI,” awash in the cheeky mood that the nickname is meant represent. It lays the groundwork for combining her songbird sensibilities with her cocky persona on “DIABLO.” Unique for being the sole track on the album produced by James Blake, he also jumps on a few lines, in between Rosalía saying such accusatory things as, “The friendship is broken by the devil, devil” and “God’s bullet plays at roulette/You have not watched, your purity has gone/I don’t know who you are anymore, devil/I don’t even know who you are, devil, devil.”
The Rosalía tradition wouldn’t be complete without a more full-blown nod to the past. That’s where “DELIRIO DE GRANDEZA” comes in. A cover of the 1968 single from Justo Betancourt, Rosalía does what she does best: updates the antiquated with her own contemporary sound (the only other person truly successful at that in the twenty-first century being Amy Winehouse). This includes the appearance of Soulja Boy on the song to add his own take on the track’s original message: “Man, it’s ridiculous/I got you so delirious/Kiss me through the phonе/While I lick you just like licorice.” Sure, that’s probably what Justo was really trying to say.
Taking it back to the frantic pace of the beginning of the record, “CUUUUuuuuuute” is a statement on finding inspiration in the streets. Just as Rosalía did for this record, citing New York, Miami and, yes, even L.A. as the places that influenced it via her walks through the calles. An irreverent nod to the lost year called 2020 is also loosely made at the beginning, when Rosalía distortedly recites, “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty twenty-one.” Or maybe she’s just counting normally… but still, it feels pointed.
Arguably the most emotional track on Motomami, “COMO UN G” explores that age-old topic, unrequited love. Or “love spent,” if you prefer. To that point, Rosalía uses the metaphor of money in the lyrics, “Only love with love is paid/I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing/The wanting that is not given, where does it end?/If I find yours, it will be debt paid/If you can’t have it, better let it go.” Elsewhere, Rosalía sounds a bit like Charli XCX on “Yuck” in terms of her own self-disgust with her emotions when she sings, “What a pity when you want something but God has other plans for you/I don’t fall in love with anyone, I swear, like a G/I don’t even write love songs, but in this one I bend for you.” Yes, women do so often tend to “bend” to men. She finally concludes, “That I’ll always love you even if I don’t have you/That you’ll always have me even if you don’t love me (swear, like a G)/That I’ll always love you even if you don’t…/That you’ll always have me even if you don’t love me (swear, like a G).” Something about it reminds one of Maddie Perez (Alexa Demie) on Euphoria—Sam Levinson, take note.
As for the next number, GAYLE really thought she was going to hold on to the letter-spelling trend in song titles for a moment there, didn’t she? But no, enter Rosalía to pepper Motomami with “Abcdefg.” Fortunately for GAYLE, this is just an interlude that features Rosalía speaking (not singing) such truths through the alphabet as, “M for MOTOMAMI, MOTOMAMI-MOTOMAMI, MOTOMAMI-MOTOMAMI.”
The spirit of said Motomami remains on “LA COMBI VERSACE” featuring Tokischa. Like any bona fide celebrity, Rosalía has a bit of an obsession with the fashion haus’ clothing (see: the many photos of ensembles she’s worn in public). Thus, at one point she declares, “God bless Gianni (flowers for Gianni).” Ultimately, however, the song is just another “CHICKEN TERIYAKI” type of brag as Rosalía talks about all the things she can afford, eventually digressing to the mention of other designers when she lists, “We paraded Dior custom in the mall/With the Gucci thong in a motor tail.” All right, we get it—you’ve got dinero.
The grand finale to Motomami, “SAKURA” offers some audience sound effects to make it seem as though Rosalía is singing in a place like the one shown in the “LA FAMA” video. And, speaking of la fama, Rosalía has more undercutting shade to throw on L.A. as a construct when she muses, “The flowers in this city don’t smell like anything/Why is that?/Why will it be?/And all the girls are so pretty, so plastic.” She then leads into the hypnotic and affecting chorus: “Sakura blossom/Sakura blossom/Being a pop star never lasts.” Well, tell that to Madonna. And, speaking of, Rosalía also seems to forget that Madonna has already forged the path for pop stars like Rosalía to continue for as long as they want when she sings, “No, you can always be a star and shine/I’m going to laugh when I’m eighty and look back.” Incidentally, Madonna wanted Rosalía to perform at her sixtieth (an age also mentioned in the song) birthday party in Morocco, but the fees turned out to be too high. Making M a Frugalmami.
As the cheers of an audience closes the song, we ourselves feel the same way about this truly one-of-a-kind album. With stamps of approval ranging from Cardi B to Lorde, Motomami has spoken to a wide array of tastes, proving the transcendent ability of music to affect people regardless of background… or language comprehension.
