Music criticism and the planetary commonplace have passed judgment; they say that Motomami is an album in which our Rosalia has finally and consciously donned the global star suit. It seems indisputable; the sixteen songs of this excellent symphony (I correct myself, the album is more of a baroque suite in which euphoria is quickly contrasted by a small cloistering of loving fragility) show a craftwomanship of styles –from the consanguineous flamenco to the artist, to reggaeton or bolero– that could equally satisfy an inhabitant of Riudellots de la Selva, Kra Daadi or Tai'an. In turn, the composer-singer has been skillful enough to subsume fragments of her imaginary into an empty signifier, that of the Motomami concept, which mixes the female empowerment of straddling a giant Kawasaki with the care that comes from motherhood, in a vindication of the woman who knows she is a leader but who also holds the exclusive right to the filial caress demanded of her by mother nature.
All this is true, but I would say that the important thing about the matter (it happens with Rosalia, but it is also opportune to know the strategy of any great artist; and she is one) is to see from where her voice speaks and, ultimately, from what hidden place this desire for globality of all her songs unfolds. Without being a barretinaire, I believe that Motomami is a secret double vindication of Catalan identity that is directly inspired by what Dalí had described as the two specialties of the Catalan tribe: empatollar-se and l'embolica que fa fort. Translated into contemporary terms; imposing oneself on the world by hitting it hard, stepping on whoever needs to be stepped on and, above all, making a lot of money. Bring Versaces, champagne and long live joy! It is not a minor idea: without a state or an army to support our poor dialect and our demographic smallness, Rosalia knows that, like Dalí, the world will only listen to us if we act tough and, above all, if we have a lot, a lot of money.
But the second thing that makes this wonderful product totally Catalan (beyond the endearing audio of the grandmother warning the global superstar to have a certain fear of Our Lord and not to forget to water the family garden often) is a sinuous but unsettling idea of modesty. This duality of knowing oneself to be powerful but always having some regret in showing oneself is evident in the small masterpiece of the album, the song Hentai. As you know, the Japanese word refers to a genre of strictly pornographic Japanese comic but which also has a very suggestive content of sensuality. The artist herself wanted to mark the dichotomy of this song by stating that she wanted to compose a kind of Disney-type ballad, but with very explicit lyrics of sexual content. The choice may be humorous, on a first listen, but then we see how the clash between the pleasure of giving and the loss of giving oneself in the sexual act is precisely what makes the notion of spiritual modesty beat.
The second thing that makes this wonderful product totally Catalan is a sinuous but unsettling idea of modestyI want to ride you like my bike/Make me a tape Spike mode/I beat her until she got on/Second is to fuck you, the first is God.The water is clearer; before the opening of sexual pleasure, there is the certainty of a certain fear of enjoyment (So rich it cannot be)and the castrating-inspiring presence of divinity.This shameful shadow hovers over all the songs on the album, especially those in which Rosalía is aware of her future global fame but remembers that the life of apopstarhas ups and downs, that celebrity istoo treacherous, and how/she comes, she leaves you/knows she will be jealous, I will never trust her./If you want to sleep with her, but never get married. I am passionate about this description so muchnostrada of the "yes but no" that Rosalía exhibits, that autochthonous will to always keep her feet on the ground despite the world (now yes!) looking at us, a sorrow that oozes a modesty that mixes with the awareness of being killing it but admitting that you don't fully deserve it.
Motomami is not an album (only) to listen to, but rather Rosalía has basically woven it to think; hence its hits are difficult to listen to as loose and isolated pieces. Her thought, despite what the ethnocentrists of our house say who reproach her for not writing more songs in Catalan, is more from the terra than the Pi de les Tres Branques, and if this happens it is because it mixes our infinite expansion with that feeling of modesty that victory always causes us. Everything I write to you, the artist has not said, and there's no fucking need for her to, because she has me to tell it. It's a minor task, but necessary.