A little over a week ago, when Rosalía’s Motomami tour touched down in Madrid, an extraordinary thing happened: A stadium full of 15,000 people sang along to a song that hadn’t even been officially released yet. Ever since the Catalan pop singer debuted the song in Almería, on the kickoff date of her tour, “Despechá” has been spreading across TikTok—first via snippets of concert footage, and then an increasingly diverse set of contexts. For a time, the song didn’t even have a name; on social networks, some fans called it “Lao a Lao” (“Side to Side”), after a phrase from the song’s wriggly chorus. Then, in Madrid, the singer asked, “What do you think I should call it: ‘De Lao a Lao’ or ‘Despechá’?” The answer was, apparently, unanimous, and thus a new contender for the song of the summer was formally baptized. This week, Rosalía finally released the song in full.
Drawn from Dominican merengue and mambo, “Despechá” once again finds her tackling a whole new style, and adapting it to suit her own shape-shifting ways. The verb “despechar” means something like “to spite,” but the way Rosalía uses it conjures a mixture of spite, revenge, and blithely brushing the dirt off your shoulder. “Baby, don’t call me,” she begins, in Spanish; “I’m busy forgetting your failings.” Tonight, she tells her unfaithful paramour, she’s going to the club, “with all my motomamis, with all my gyales.” The rest of the song offers just enough detail for us to fill in the picture of an epic night out: skirt, jewelry, piña colada, and a veiled reference to Fefita la Grande, the septuagenarian queen of Dominican merengue—whose rhythms, presumably, are going to set Rosalía free.
The song’s simplicity makes it hard to resist. Co-written by reggaetón veterans Chris Jedi, Gaby Music, and Dímelo Ninow, along with Motomami writer/producers David Rodríguez, Noah Goldstein, and Sir Dylan, “Despechá” is a wonder of efficiency, flitting back and forth between two springy piano chords as it rides an equally fleet percussive rhythm. The original clip that Rosalía posted to her own TikTok on July 12 was just 35 seconds long, and though the full song runs two minutes longer, it doesn’t actually bring anything new to the table, it just lets us linger in the song’s minimalistic bliss a little longer. Two chords, a perfect groove, even a giggle or two: Kiss-offs don’t come much breezier.
