The simplicity of Laura Isabel Ramírez Ocampo (Manizales, 30 years old) contrasts with her challenging gaze. His sweetness, with his raw lyrics. The artist, who became one of the artistic faces of the 2021 national strike with her single “No Azara”, managed within a few years to secure a place for herself in the music scene and in the promising group of young singer-songwriters. “Dialogue with La Muchacha” – the stage name is inspired by a song by the Argentinian Sabú – invites you to constantly reflect on injustices and dreams.
Ramírez comes from a music-loving family. He grew up with Cumanday – as the Quimbaya natives called Nevado del Ruiz – behind him. There, in the steep streets of the capital Caldas, she trained as a visual artist before emigrating to Bogotá. When she isn't singing, her doppelganger appears: La Dibujadora. Escape the hustle and bustle of being an independent artist with painting and illustration.
He gained recognition in 2018 with Pal Monte. In 2021, No Azara became an anthem. And at just 30 years old, he has already completed four albums: Poland (2018), Raw Songs (2020), Más Raw Songs (2021) and Los ombligos (2023). She didn't walk the path alone, and she emphasizes that again and again. He trusts in the power of the pack and has therefore decided to make music with other artists. He has collaborated with Aterciopelados, the rapper Realidad Mental, Briela Ojeda, Gato E' Monte, the Spaniard Pedro Pastor and Neck Talese from Argentina.
At the start of their next European tour, La Muchacha will offer a concert at the 15th edition of Festival Centro, one of the most important independent music events in Bogotá. The day before she spoke to EL PAÍS, accompanied by her little dog Chicha, who is waiting impatiently for her. His Caldense voice adds warmth to his frank and candid answers.
Colombian singer-songwriter and illustrator Laura Isabel Ramírez, known as La Muchacha, February 2024 in Bogotá. Andres Galeano
Questions: “Let them shoot me from the front/Let it be at the door of my house/For I'm dying in my country/And they won't take me out of this country.” This fragment from No Azara was repeated during the protests two years ago listen. What inspired these harsh lyrics?
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Answer: The song is dedicated to the Peace Community of San José de Apartadó. It came about after I saw “Peace Chocolate”, a documentary by Pablo Mejía, the person who accompanies me through life and is my true love. The documentary talks about the community's process of not allowing an armed group on their territory, their struggle for independence and how they were expelled, monitored and persecuted for this reason. This song is for her.
Q What does “No Azara” mean to you personally?
R. This song makes me sick. It's the only one I have tattooed. It gives me a great sense of responsibility because it goes through me, it bothers me a lot that he accompanied people who are now imprisoned or dead, that he reveals a situation in which someone has to be brave enough to think about it: “Let they kill.” I’m in my house because I can’t. “Get me out of here.” I feel the responsibility to make myself aware that I'm not singing nonsense, that I'm saying something that not only touches people, but also hurts them. This pain must be accepted.
Q They were very active in the national strike. Do you think that this explosion has brought about the changes required in the long term?
R. The attention has decreased because we have a different kind of government. But the pain continues, INDEPAZ continues to count the murdered, the massacres continue in Cauca. I feel that there is a state of hope about this new administration, but at the same time there is also a sense of concern. Like a strange passivity on our part, because we are no longer the opposition, but already within what is supposed to correspond to our ideals. Sometimes it's important not to pat ourselves on the back and say everything is okay even though we know it isn't. We can't stop talking about Palestine, but we also can't stop talking about Colombia, about what continues to happen here.
Q Speaking of government: you composed a song for the documentary La Igualada, which tells the life of Francia Márquez.
R. Yes, it was great. The documentary is nominated at the Sundance Film Festival. It was quite an experience, especially because it allows us to understand Francia Márquez beyond the political character. His struggle since his childhood in La Toma, his courage and determination. There is a line from the song: “Cut every rope with a machete to embark the diggers and deter weapons,” which refers to an anecdote Francia told about the women before her who faced and with the multinational corporations a machete went to the river. And they cut off the dredges that were sucking up the water. For me it was valuable to know the strength of many women who have resisted mining and represent production. The whole process was super nice. They also used No Azara and Los Ríos. Luckily my music accompanies the entire production.
Q A large part of her work speaks of exactly this, of the strength of women. What does feminism mean to The Girl?
R. For me it was a process of figuring out which areas of this comprehensive concept I fit into and understanding which edges I stand on. I'm talking from there. For example, for me it is very important that my feminism is not TERF, for me it is inconceivable that it does not coexist with transgenderism. My feminism also speaks of this. I stand up for whores because I stand up for the rights of whores. From then on I will continue to make my songs, hopefully making more of these songs every day. I have many queer, trans and non-binary relationships and would like to sing for them more. Learn more about this beautiful universe that has so many lessons to teach.
Q What were your first approaches to music?
R. My mother put it in my blood. She, my grandfather and her father sing. My first memories associated with music are when I heard her singing songs by Mercedes Sosa, composed by Violeta Parra, or by Víctor Jara. It was she who made me grow on this return because she kept giving me the idea that I could sing. He got me into choirs, sound, piano and clarinet courses. I feel like that was my biggest connection to music: my mother's neck.
Q A constant in his music are collaborations with artists from a wide range of genres. Is it important for La Muchacha to promote these meetings?
Q Yes, I feel like it undermines our ideas about how individualistic the industry is. It is always assumed that creation is a monologue, and well, no. I feel like these meetings disrupt that and just make us negotiate with other people's ideas and sounds. So you put your ego aside. For me, this job has no place if it is not collective, if it is not shared, if it is not communicated to the outside world.
Q Which artists would you like to get together with next? Which “togethers” are on the way?
R. We recently did one with La Fármaco, a rapper from the south of Bogotá. And right now I would really like to do that, like look for other female rappers to do more things. I would like to do something like with Sofía Viola, a singer from Argentina. With Liana we also have a topic that we are not finished with yet. She is my friend, my sister in life. Nor do I do it with an arrogant spirit. If something comes out with (Natalia) Lafourcade one day, that would be great, but I'm going with no pressure.
Q She has managed to sustain herself beyond viral songs, with an audience that has followed her and supported her work for years. To what do you attribute this success?
R. I think it has to do with my temperament. I learned to build it up because I was very scared when I was naked. I gained character through singing so I could stand on stage and look people in the eye. Not only does it penetrate the person, but you also transform the fear, the fear of not being sure what you are doing. Bravery doesn't just mean holding a weapon, bravery means singing. This is my weapon. This is thanks to Cucha, who once gave me the advice: “To sing, you have to be brave.”
Colombian singer-songwriter and illustrator Laura Isabel Ramírez, known as La Muchacha, February 2024 in Bogotá. Andres Galeano
Q He grew up in Manizales and moved to Bogotá a few years ago. How was this transit?
R. This is the fourth year I've lived in Bogotá, a very chaotic city but one that feels like home. It's like a toxic friend who welcomes me, although I can't deny that it makes me nostalgic for not being in Manizales. It makes me want to come back, be near the Cuchos and live a little more peacefully in a cheaper place. Go back to the roots and know that that is where you come from and that everything you have comes from what you built there. This is exactly what my album suggests: “Remember that your navel is there.” I am connected to a cord that cannot be broken, that needs to be fed and loved.
Q You talk about the navel as an analogy to the roots, is that the reason for the title of your latest work?
R. Yes, this is a very special album, also because I'm no longer alone, but am accompanied by Camilo Bartelsman on drums and Miguel Velasquez Matijasevick on bass. It's an album that strongly addresses questions about origins, an origins that are also dark, sad, thick. It was a very nice experience to collectivize the lyrics, the music, the compositions to obtain the sounds that they have to contribute to me or that they suggest and that give a different color to the songs. It was very cool.
Q What awaits La Muchacha in 2024?
R. The idea is to continue with Propio Junte, the name we gave to this trio and which is part of this new sound of La Muchacha, but which does not depend exclusively on her. That means the Junte itself can be the three of us making experimental music or reggaeton if we feel like it, but under that name. The idea is that this project navigates and circulates.
We also want to find out what reactions our music evokes in the ears of people who do not belong to this area. See what's happening in Europe. We thought about going to France and Portugal, where I've never been. “Suddenly, of course, we’ll go to the USA if the visa works out,” he laughs. In Colombia we are going to Medellín and here in Bogotá we have a presentation in the south, in Kennedy. It seems like a joke to leave Chapinero and Teusaquillo.
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