For a few months a few winters ago, I lived in Berlin. They were cold months – metaphorically and literally – and it was only music that warmed me up. I walked through U-Bahn stations with headphones jammed on, listening mostly to old favourites. But there is one voice that soars above all others when I recall that German winter – a voice that transmitted both vulnerability and hope, and made me feel less alone. It belonged to the singer-songwriter Kelela.
I can’t remember exactly where I first heard of Ethiopian-American Kelela, now 32. I know I heard her vocals on the track Bank Head, with its skittery beats, much later than everyone else. Her voice has a uniquely intimate quality, whether she’s singing in a falsetto or much lower. On her mixtape, Cut 4 Me, everything sounds as if she’s telling it to you in complete confidence: her voice is, in the parlance of internet-kids, “feels” made flesh (she recently labelled it “crying-in-the-club”). But the voice does not stand alone: married to her lyrics, it soars. The lyrics aren’t even particularly complex, they just always sound heartfelt, playful but sincere. Then there’s her look: half-shaved locks (she cut them in the video for A Message, and she’s the reason I shaved half my head last year), and beautiful dark skin, with heavy-lidded eyes.
By all accounts, this is the year she will release her first LP, after years of one-off singles and interesting collaborations. I already know it’s going to be the soundtrack for another chunk of my life. I’m ready to cry in the club.
