Lido Pimienta is ready for you to get to know her. As a Columbian Canadian singer/songwriter/producer, she's in the minority demographically in her home country, and in a world shaped by a history of Western Colonialism, she is almost certainly not always seen for her potential, when she's seen at all. Her latest album Miss Colombia is a rebuke of the erasure which threatens women of color.
Miss Colombia is Pimienta's second LP, and takes its title from a demoralizing series of events that transpired at the 2015 Miss Universe contest when Steve Harvey awarded the crown to Miss Colombia, who was actually the runner up. This gaffe prompting an embarrassing redo on live TV where Miss Colombia was stripped of the title that she had only a moment ago won so that it could be given to Miss Philippines. The event was a stark microcosm of intersecting degradations, causing Pimienta to reflect on how interchangeable and dismissible women of color can be in the eyes of the Western world. This event, as well as her own history of alienation, has resulted in an effort to make her follow up the career-defining La Papessa much more focused on indigenous music than the more pop-oriented fair of her previous efforts. The results are not as immediately digestible as a pop record could be expected to be, but with time, the complexity of the aural delicacies on offer becomes more recognizable as the pallet relaxes to their sensation and touch.
Miss Columbia begins with the sonorous and minimalistic "Para Transcribir (Sol)" with peddle spreading horns dueting with Pimienta as she orates a lush melody. The following track "Eso Que Tu Haces" is equally as sumptuous, offering cascading melodies, often held aloft by nimble synth arrangements and gusty basslines. The liberated qualities of "Eso Que Tu Haces" are carried through to the center of the album by the moist electronic shudder of the MIA-esque "No Prude." But as I previously alluded, this is more than a pop record. Indeed, its most intricate and inspired moments can be found on tracks like "Quiero Que Me Salves," a collaboration with El Sexteto Tabala, where Pimienta joins the traditional Palenque band in an exhibition of group vocal harmonies and Afro-Columbia rhythms. The proceeding tracks see the foundation of these rhythms presented in contrast to Pimienta's pop melodies on "Pelo Cucu," before transitioning entirely into a pop framework on "Resisto Y Ya." It's a lovely and instructive evolution that I did not think was possible on a pop record without sacrificing momentum or cohesion.
Miss Columbia is a bright, colorful, and largely celebratory album that showcases the beauty of Pimienta's heritage and the through lines that tie her to her present. On it, Pimienta is not looking for your approval or praise, and the self-evidence of her majesty is instead presented without comment, to await your embrace. You have to come to her. Because she's fine right where she is without you.
Get a copy of Miss Columbia from Anti- Records, here.
