Meet Rosa Cecilia: The Sensual Songstress on the Cusp of a New Era
Written by Joshua Beutum
Photographer: Ruby Griffith.
Stylist: Linda Houtsonen.
Photography assistant: Eve Eberlin
Listening to Rosa Cecilia, it’s clear why the London-based musician has developed something of a cult following. With over 2.5 million streams on Spotify, she’s a sensual artist whose breathy, atmospheric compositions feel just as at home scoring the sun-drenched romanticism of Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Y Tu Mamá También’ or Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Queer’ as they do in quiet moments of introspection in candlelit bedrooms.
Bridging jazz, R&B, and Latin influences, her sound is both nostalgic and contemporary—it’s retro soul decked out with references to Twitter, polyamory, and queer love. Not to mention that a tendency towards diaristic songwriting and a willingness to document her rawest desires culminates in music that feels both personal and strikingly universal. Take 2024’s ‘Desire’—a steamy, tropical reflection on the singer’s yearning for a threesome, complete with calls for a friend ‘to join us in heaven’ and avowals of how ‘erotica longs to be free’. Or take the more political ‘Gold Chains’, which meditates on the beauty and pain of growing up within the Latin diaspora. Wrapped in Cecilia’s sultry tone, her oeuvre is a rumination on what it means to be young, romantic, and still figuring things out.
Now, after a brief hiatus, a series of life-altering events, and a gig opening for Biig Piig on their UK and Ireland tour, Cecilia is poised for her self-professed new era. Meeting on Zoom, we discussed influences as far-ranging as Madonna, Henry Mancini, and Barbra Streisand, the link between art and activism, and why God is gay. Though she’s quite tight-lipped about what her upcoming project will bring, what is apparent is that—like everything to do with the artist—it is an immensely thought-out, well-articulated, and intentional journey through her personal evolution.
Influences
Your music has been heralded as blending a diverse range of genres—everything from R&B and soul to jazz, and, of course, Latin music. How do you approach crafting songs that bridge these sounds?
I view my songwriting like a poet. I’m obsessed with crafting an authentic narrative voice that reflects who I am now and how I’m living in the moment, so I don’t overthink in terms of melody or genre. Although, I grew up in a mixed household and I’ve always listened to everything from Latin music, to jazz, punk rock, and even songs at church. There was also a huge Caribbean and African diaspora at my school, so in dance class, we’d listen to R&B. In that way, I’ve had so many influences that I’ve had the privilege of not having to think about how the cocktail comes out. The cocktail—my sound, I guess—has been shaken my whole life, and now I’m just pouring it out.
Is the process of translating this cocktail of influences into a body of work organic or more intentional?
I definitely put in effort. Whenever you’re making a body of work, you want there to be a theme. I believe in the power of eras and albums and that’s something I’m really trying to thrive in right now. It’s something that two of my greatest influences, Madonna and Rosalia do well—they have great visions. In the writing process, it’s fun to throw everything everywhere and let it be organic; but then in the editing process, I like to be intentional about how much of each influence I’m allowing in. Woody Allen said—I know he’s not the pinnacle of goodness, but he’s a good artist—the best part of making a movie is the idea and everything that follows is a sacrifice. You can do what you want at first, but when it comes to producing the idea, you must be intentional to cut through a saturated market.
Do you want to touch a bit more on some of your influences? There’s an atmospheric, almost cinematic aspect to your catalogue. It feels like it could be the soundtrack to a film on Mubi—is that intentional?
Cinema has been hugely influential to me. When I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to watch TV, but my mother would play us these old films with Barbra Streisand and Gene Kelly—they were very psychedelic. Plus, my favorite Italian music is from film scorers like Henry Mancini and Piero Piccioni. There’s something so sexy and romantic to them, and I feel like that’s missing from a lot of modern music. Though Lana Del Rey has that quality, and I love that.
I also love creating atmospheric music. The songs that stand out in my life, those songs you love the moment you hear them, make you feel like you’re in a movie. I think that’s why people love listening to music in cars because it feels more cinematic when there’s views passing by. It makes the music feel like the soundtrack to your life and it makes your life more romantic, which is such an empowering feeling. I want my music to give that to my listeners.
And last thing on influences. You grew up quite heavily involved in the Catholic Church. What was that experience like? Has it left a mark on your sound?
I feel God when I play. I’ve never had a singing lesson in my life. I just went to Catholic school and the choirmasters heard that I had a nice voice and encouraged me. That gave me performance confidence—being part of that community. But it wasn’t all roses. I’m a queer woman, so there were moments where it was more complicated. But I still feel close to God. And I know God loves my queerness. God is so gay. He’s so extra. Who else has twelve men follow them around and makes themself the icon of this whole thing? That’s so queer-coded.
Performing the Personal
Your music touches on quite personal, intimate aspects of your life. Is this something you approach easily?
At first, I thought I was speaking to too much of a niche, but I found that by performing the personal, the personal becomes the general. Everyone loves Amy Winehouse, and she’s such a good example of that. She describes such specifics, like the fact that her lover smokes Marlboro Reds and wears a skull T-shirt. But you can project that onto your own thing, whether you’re into a guy who smokes Camel Blues and wears an Acne Studios jacket, or whatever…
Though, you do touch on universal issues— ‘Passers-By’ is about queer love, ‘Gold Chains’ is about immigrant heritage. What do you think the role of the artist is in pushing for change or representing social issues?
Art is public journaling. Some songs speak about lighter things, others heavier, but activism shouldn’t be a forced responsibility. It should come organically. With ‘Gold Chains’ and ‘Passers-By’, I felt passionately about those issues. I had something to say, and I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. What makes lyrics sing-along-able is that people feel what you’re saying, and they want to scream it at the top of their lungs because it relates to their life too.
How do you approach representing these topics?
Look at Salsa music. If you translate the most famous Salsa songs, they’re often talking about slavery or being cheated on, but the music is so cheery. That’s what I like doing—taking that Latin tradition and then, through a diasporic lens, putting it into English so that a more linguistically diverse audience can experience it. It’s about representing these experiences in a way that’s still mesmerizing.
On stage
You’ve shared the stage with a diverse slate of artists—you’ve done a tour with Biig Piig, and you’ve opened for performers like Marina Sena, Luedji Luna, and Leon Larregui. What have you learned from them?
It’s been a privilege to share the stage with artists from such diverse scenes because it shows how diverse my audience is. It’s increased my confidence, and I think in this stage of my career, there’s a lot to be said about observation. So even just being able to watch how they work—and they’re all so incredible and inspiring and professional and so supportive of what I do—it allows me to kind of flourish within those experiences and take that into the studio.
Speaking of performance, how do you approach translating your recorded music for your live shows?
It’s not just about replicating the record. If you wanted to listen to the record, you could listen to it on the phone in the loo at my gig. I want to give audiences different versions of the music—if I can’t use a live band, I create differences in the choreography and the look. But when I have a live band, I’ll be pitching them different arrangements. That way, my listeners don’t get bored. Plus, I change my outfit depending on the venue. I’ll google the venue before I play and decide what version of myself I’m going to be. That way, even if you’re hearing the exact same set, you’re getting a different experience every time.
A New Era
You’ve just come back from some time in LA and Mexico, where you were working on a new project. Let’s address it head-on: What does your upcoming era look like?
I went through a breakup. I was with someone my whole adult life, and I decided to end it. This era is, for me, the rebirth of my adult independence, which involves a lot of travel, a lot of experimentation—romantically, creatively, geographically. It’s about accepting that being messy and not knowing what you want no matter what stage in your life you’re at is okay, and about feeling empowered in that acceptance. It’s definitely an evolved sound. I don’t want to say a different sound because there’s still elements of me, but it’s more evolved and cinematic. It’s a bit less lo-fi.
Does that mean it’s a breakup album?
The breakup influenced some songs and lyrics, but it’s less about him and more about me. I decided to end it, and that was a courageous decision. It’s for myself, rather than about mourning what was lost. It’s celebrating what will be gained. It’s about me. Plus, my sister, Lolita Iamele, is the creative director of the project—she’s a fashion designer. She knows me better than anyone and we grew up with a lot of the same references, so it’ll be very authentic.
And finally, what do you hope listeners take from your music?
If you go to a show and all you take is a good time and a flirt with someone, or if you go home that night and it’s inspired you to release your own music—as long as it’s on the spectrum of positivity and there’s some form of reflection and celebration, I’m happy.
