Rosalia: The Art and Atrocity of Reinvention
How do artists transform themselves and their work to enhance their craft? When does reinvention reignite our interest, and when does it go too far? Why was the internet so enraged and enthralled to see Rosalía, former contemporary flamenco stronghold, become Rosalía, bubble-gum-smacking art pop connoisseur?
The Art
Spanish superstar Rosalía knows how to obliterate convention. Her breakthrough sophomore album, “El Mal Querer,” masterfully fused traditional Spanish flamenco with contemporary pop and a narrative through line. This record was widely acclaimed and launched the Catalonia native into stardom. Since then, Rosalía has fine-tuned her ability to riff, rework and reinvent, releasing her most “sonically ambitious” project yet, “Motomami,” in March 2022. The experimental genre-bending nature of Rosalía and “Motomami” has captivated and bewildered audiences, reminding some of Björk in her heyday or of a certain former Kardashian spouse who shall not be named. Listening to the record in full may bring on a sort of “sonic whiplash” with its back-to-back usage of traditional bolero, forgotten Soulja Boy hit samples, TikTok sounds, reggaetón, hyperpop and jazzy piano riffs. In her piecemeal approach to art and music, the potential for source material is endless. There are no limits for what can be sampled, covered or remixed. Everything is on the table for reworking and reinvention, and it's Rosalía’s job to patch it all together.
The transformative spirit of not only her music but also her artistic identity is on plain view in “Saoko,” the opening track of “Motomami.” She raps:
“Eh, yo soy muy mía, yo me transformo
Una mariposa, yo me transformo”
“I’m very much me, I transform
A butterfly, I transform”
It’s not hard to hear themes of freedom and renewal in the record with its breadth of source inspiration and variability. Tempo and genre are merely her playground, and “Motomami” her plea for artistic liberation.
Rosalía’s music is a constellation of her well-roundedness and an amalgamation of her many worlds, but she argues that this is simply an elevated form of tactics humans utilize naturally. She claims that as long as you employ respect and love in transforming others’ work, it always makes sense.
The Atrocity
Rosalía’s globetrotting discography and style have not only brought her accolades. In her pursuit of transformation it seems she’s stepped on the toes of some established and marginalized identities. Flamenco, Rosalía’s musical foundation, originates from the Gitanos, or the Spanish Romani. Many Gitanos oppose her rise to “Flamenco Poster Girl” status and her riffing on a culture that never belonged to her. As a white Spaniard, flamenco was not her tradition to adopt and reinvent. Additionally, Rosalía boasts oodles of Latin Grammys, indulges in Afro-Caribbean beats and slang, holds a comfortable spot in the Urban genre and proclaims she feels Latina despite being fully Spanish-blooded.
To be human is to communicate and exchange, but never to the point where you overshadow the creators of a craft or misrepresent your own origins. Despite what Rosalía may like to believe, her ventures into the world of Latin music and Romani culture are a trend. Her amalgamating of sounds and genres is a feat to behold, but Rosalía, just like any other artist, does not create in a vacuum. She follows a well-trodden trend of white creators being viewed as more acceptable versions of the othered and thereby, propelled to frontman genres spearheaded and popularized by marginalized people of color. Rosalía picking and choosing from the persona playground is taking transformation too far. Maybe reinvention doesn’t always make sense, no matter how much love and respect you bolster.
Rosalía’s transformation manifests in other, less deplorable ways. Her career trajectory appears at first glance to fall into the “specialized talent to generic popstar pipeline,” à la Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus. Contrasted with “Los Angeles,” her first studio album and a more strict interpretation of modern flamenco, her recent forays into the world of art pop and experimental composition may seem to aim at increasing digestibility to global audiences. Detractors claim that “Motomami” spells the betrayal of Rosalía’s traditional roots. They believe that the trade-off for relatability and stardom is relinquishing authenticity and individuality. These misgivings are unfounded; with her world-class genre-bending and sonic innovation (that just happen to occasionally intersect with the pervasive realm of popular music), Rosalía is not sanitizing but rather embracing her uniqueness. Time and time again the public criticizes women for exploring different genres and styles, but reinvention is often necessary for women to hold the interest of an audience itching to abandon them for the next young talent. Our apprehension of ambitious women pigeonholes artists into categories and then condemns them daring to want more.
Rosalía and her penchant for reinvention are evidence that transformation can be both a liberating and precarious endeavor. She avoids artistic limbo by rewriting tradition, but she also follows a bitter trend of artists co-opting subcultures that are not theirs to reinvent. Her field, for better or worse, is transformation, and she contributes to the eternal debate on the ethics of total creative liberation.