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Latin American music is American music. I really don’t have to explain why<\/a>, do I? <\/p>\n But that doesn’t mean it isn’t complex or complicated to build a career around singing lyrics in two languages. In fact, it’s almost easier if it’s a “gimmick,” as opposed to bilingualism being a central component in how you reach out and connect with your fan base<\/a>. That’s where the challenges start mounting. <\/p>\n Most fans are not<\/em> bilingual. <\/p>\n So the moment an artist switches languages on stage, audience cohesion can fracture. One section of the crowd sings every word while another briefly disconnects, waiting for the next familiar hook or phrase, looks at their phone, tunes out. <\/p>\n And even if English language dominance in the American appetite for Pop music has waned significantly \u2014 with fans becoming increasingly comfortable<\/a> listening to artists singing Spanish, Korean, Japanese, Portguese, Icelandic, you name it \u2014 that still means there’s a gap in connection that needs to be addressed by the artist. <\/p>\n It’s about accessibility, or rather: access points. <\/strong><\/p>\n In my opinion, Kali Uchis<\/strong><\/a> has figured out how to connect with her fans so deeply, no matter the language, in a highly personal, resonant, and joyous way, that it almost supersedes the borders between languages. She has mastered the art of giving her fans access points. <\/p>\n Instead of \u201ctranslating\u201d herself toward one audience or another, compromising her identity, she leans into the spaces where she can be truly herself, and has built a live performance style where mood itself becomes the universal language. At a Kali Uchis concert, the emotional atmosphere, its sensual pacing, matters more than lyrical fluency.<\/p>\n Just watch her command the live stage<\/a> at the recent Sue\u00f1os Music Festival<\/a> in Chicago, in two languages and a metric ton of sex appeal: <\/p>\n