KAT DA
HLIA: A Girl and her Garden comes to sexuality. At the start of her career, the 24-year-old singer went through several stylists who encouraged more revealing, peekaboo clothing to create an image that didn’t fit her. “<strong>The</strong>y would send me off with mini dresses and things like that,” she remembers. “But it’s not what I’m comfortable with. It’s not necessary for me to show my tits, my ass. That’s not what I’m about. I don’t like bowing down to that.” By Genice Phillips Photography by Donald Wilson <strong>The</strong>re’s a seismic shift happening in the music world. Indie artists are forging ahead without the massive backing of a major label and if they are signed to the “machine,” then they’re trumping expectations. Sonically, and lyrically, there are a few standout artists reshaping the industry, pushing the dusted “mainstream” sound into a new, progressive era. Suffice to say, Kat Dahlia is one of those artists liquefying the standard definition of pop music. Her artistry is not reminiscent of days past, when pop princesses reigned. But it’s also not obscure or mystifying to today’s crowd. She pours her reality in the songs she creates. Her songwriting is weighty; at times, full of pain. And her demeanor, while humbled, is headstrong and independent. You can tell that she is on a mission. During a stop in North Carolina on her first headlining U.S. tour, I spoke with her about what that mission was. From what she relayed, and from what I gathered, she wants to preserve the integrity of her message in the music, while connecting with the people. Simplistic in wording, but challenging in application. She’s done well so far. She’s been through a few roadblocks and setbacks, as any artist experiences in an industry that is always looking for the next “Rihanna” or “Taylor Swift,” often giving those on the come up one shot to propel their career, before someone with less baggage, or someone more compliant, is taking their spot. And it can be particularly harrowing for female artists, vying for an autonomous, unique voice and image, without relinquishing some aspects of themselves, especially when it As her music developed, some attempted to steer her toward being solely a Latina artist (her parents are Cuban). But Kat saw restriction and entrapment. “In my mind, I felt like it was being exploited – ‘Oh she’s Latina, let’s milk this.’ But I was like no; let me be me,” she says. “I love my roots and my family. I’m so happy and proud to be Latina. It’s just in me, naturally, but I don’t want it to be forced.” And then, as her breakout song, “Gangsta,” accelerated her career, everything abruptly halted when she discovered a pseudocyst on her vocal chords, early last year. Her debut album, “My Garden,” was pushed back. Her first U.S. tour, canceled. <strong>The</strong>re was a looming question as to whether this would be permanent. “It was such a hurtful thing when I wasn’t able to sing for six months and really not know if I was going to get my voice back. It was an emotional rollercoaster.” <strong>POTENT</strong> Magazine | THIRTY-TWO