Carmen Xía (San Fernando, Cádiz, 1995) mixes hip hop and flamenco in a powerful style that fights for the rights of working women and the LGBTQ+ community. Her lyrics, written in Andalusian, reflect her cultural roots while calling out social injustices.

Her debut single, Orguyoça (2021), made her a fresh, committed voice in the music scene.

Carmen started in a feminist rap group in Cádiz, but after the pandemic, she decided to go solo. Her music blends hip hop, flamenco, and copla, influenced by artists like Gata Cattana, Lauryn Hill, Rocío Jurado, and Lola Flores. Her songs stand up for women’s rights, sexual diversity, and critique gentrification, while also promoting neighborhood networks as a form of resistance.

Writing in Andalusian is her way of challenging stereotypes about Andalucía, giving her culture respect and reclaiming its hidden history. Carmen also fights against sexism in the music industry, pushing for more visibility for women.

She’s currently working on a more experimental second album, aiming to keep spotlighting Andalusian social and cultural struggles while staying true to her authenticity.

Carmen Xía is back with a new project that digs deep into old wounds, feelings, power, and struggles from the past and present. She’s clearing the ground and pulling out the weeds with Andalusian roots, flamenco and copla vibes, and rap rhythms. All of it is wrapped in urban beats that hit straight from the heart, fueled by female empowerment and caring for each other’s bodies.

She already left us an “honored scar” with her debut album, “La Herida” (22)—eleven tracks full of rhythm and a voice so unique it feels like the blood of Martirio, Gata Cattana, La Paquera, Lauryn Hill, and Lola Flores flows through her veins. It’s like a dance of joys spilling out in olive fields, smelling of rosemary and orange blossom, and reaching the Cádiz coast where Spain and Africa meet forever.

Armed with her sharp accent and a peineta ready to stab (with style, of course), she opens with “El Cuerpo,” grabbing us right away. She dives straight into anxiety and stress with the rave-infused copla “Awita,” soaked in drum and bass and lyrics that hit hard and true, straight from Xía: “Pasando fatiguitas dobles / y hasta el día de cobrar, / escucho tantas mentiras, / estoy asalvajá. / Dime quién contó la historia / que está tan mal contá, / las andaluzas queremos más trabajo y libertad.”

Hints of Arabic and Eastern sounds mix with sweat and struggle, with raw cries, clapping, electronic pulses, and lyrics that smell like mint and grandma’s stew. Tracks like “Marujeo” bring back the spirit of neighbors gossiping in patios, chilling in the streets, or warming up by that “Candela” that leaves a mark and won’t be forgotten.

Suzio Tarik takes over the production, bringing in collabs from rappers Tribade and Bewis de la Rosa on the hard-hitting ‘90s rap track “Todo por la pasta.” Then there’s the trippy and hypnotic “Mardita la incertidumbre,” featuring Califato ¾ and Andrea Santalusía weaving a tale of heartbreak, jealousy, and drama you need to escape ASAP. And let’s not forget the show-stopping eight-minute closer “Andaluces de Jaén” with Canastéreos, where Xía burns it all down in a cathartic live ritual. It’s a burst of psychedelia, electronica, deep Andalusian vibes, and poetic truths that expose lies and unite people—ending in a rave explosion among olive groves. “Unidos al agua pura / y a los planetas unidos, / los tres dieron la hermosura / de sus troncos retorcidos.”

Gata Cattana already said it: “Better treat those bitches right, or they’ll team up and fight.” Strong and united, Carmen Xía celebrates the raw beauty of art and the pain that fuels it, turning deep sorrow into ultimate joy. There’s even an open love letter to menstruation in the sharp and funny “Premenstrual,” paired perfectly with Ángeles Toledano’s “Sangre sucia.” It’s a shared rhythm and unstoppable pulse that Gata would surely cheer on from wherever she is: “Tú nunca estarás sola, amiga, porque te quiero.” It’s an unbreakable bond that grows louder, brighter, and fiercer across these 13 new tracks. And when you hit “Blanco y Dorao” (split into two parts that’ll give you chills), you’ll hear it loud and clear: “Tus heridas son las mías. Acuérdate de la promesa: Juntas pa siempre, hermana, en esta y en las que vengan.”

With this album, Carmen Xía isn’t just cementing her spot at the forefront of Andalusian music—she’s blazing trails for future artists who want to break molds without losing touch with their roots. Her blend of tradition and modern beats is a collective shout of identity and resistance, keeping the pulse of the land and the voices of the past alive and kicking in the present.

By Elisa