By José Gandue @spinning zone
Lucille Dupin archive photos
Between the sea, rebellion, and the desire to reinvent oneself.
I celebrate when an artist knows how to combine the tenderness contained in their timeless discourse with the experimentation necessary to renew their sound. I celebrate when that same artist —Yes, we're talking about the Colombian one. Lucille Dupin— He succeeds in establishing the truth of his words as poetry in motion, without ever losing the desire to sound in tune with the times.
And this is where I dare to give my opinion Indiana, the second album of this music, like a record pretty. Yes, beautiful, with all the true meaning of that word. I use and defend this adjective against anyone who thinks they're brave by searching for sentimentality where it doesn't exist. Yes: beautiful, gorgeous, inspiring, capable of renewing the terms of permanence and resistance in the face of the walls of hatred being built around us.
Indiana It's a plaque that lasts half an hour, where the desire to combine rethinking female pop and the need to renew sound forms In a scene that, at times, offers nothing different from established clichés, especially when the one in the spotlight is a woman. Here we have an artist who wields it as her weapon of choice. a ukulele —one of the most vilified instruments in history— and which, contrary to what the most pessimistic might predict, produces impactful songs, which They move and satisfy.
From the Caribbean to the cosmos: Lucille Dupin's inner journey.
What does all this sound like? Like many things, mixed together in a powerful way: Psychedelia, samplers, elegant moments of stoner rock and subtle electronica. It's as if Lucille had arrived at the sea—this album was recorded and composed on the Colombian Caribbean coast, in direct connection with nature—with acoustic ideas and added the favorable noise of technology., with the blessing of the next universe.
What are the best moments of IndianaAlthough I recommend, as I almost always do, listening to the album from beginning to end, without rushing or pausing, I would choose two songs above the rest: Ice, The sixth track, perhaps the most raw in the catalog, features brilliant guitar work and a powerful vocal melody, accompanied by exquisite spatial reverberations. Then, next, Take Me to the Sea, A bilingual ballad where entertaining digital noises intertwine and everything seems designed to awaken the finest specimen in our spiritual zoo, ...to defend ourselves against external adversities. This is a great song. I insist: very beautiful.
Given how confusing the Colombian music scene has been this year, What Lucille Dupin has done is among the most remarkable things we can find in 2025. I hope that the scene surrounding her—and the rest of the continent—recognizes, through this album, the value contained in her work. I mean it. We cannot waste the opportunity to listen to her.
