The Rebirth of Carla Morrison

Grammy-Winning Artist Breaks Open

WORDS Ninette Paloma

Home to one of Mexico’s most popular beer brands, the city of Tecate has been building an international reputation as of late through some of its other attractions, including a prolific arts scene (Parisian installationist JR and his outsized “Kikito” come to mind) and a serious dining culture that includes a fresh roster of prix fixe darlings.

But ask any one of the over 800 folks who packed UC Santa Barbara’s Campbell Hall on October 27, and chances are they will tell you that Tecate-born Carla Morrison is the real reason the town continues to enjoy its government designation as a “Pueblo Mágico.”

UCSB Arts & Lectures kicked off an evening of Latin indie pop with a DJ set by Val-Mar Records and Elubia’s Kitchen on the outdoor terrace slinging tacos and pupusas for a hungry crowd. Once inside, Morrison wasted no time in directing her audience’s attention to the evening’s purpose: “Tonight,” she explained in both Spanish and English, “let’s give ourselves permission to think about our exes.”

Dressed in a glittering structured jacket that doubled as fashion armor, Morrison crooned across a discography of emotionally charged ballads and hand-clapping melodies that included the title track to her 2012 debut album Déjenme Llorar, all the way to “Diamantes” from 2022’s El Renacimiento. The latter served as a thematic beacon that guided Morrison through a raw set peppered with thoughtful musings. “Sometimes you have to die a little bit,” she confessed, “before you can fully experience rebirth.”

It is easy to draw parallels between Morrison and Alanis Morissette, the two can execute a break-up song with such detailed and lyrical conviction, you get the unnerving sensation you might actually know the offender at hand. But a look around the audience and it became abundantly clear Morrison’s multigenerational appeal is uniquely her own: folded among a crowd of twenty- and thirty- somethings was an impressive delegation of silver-haired seniors. I watched in delight as two women – who both looked about 70 – stand up in unison to blow kisses at Morrison as she belted out “Eres Tu.”

I can’t say I would ever feel inclined to invite my grandmother to a Morissette concert, but I did bring my mom along to watch Morrison bring the house down at Campbell Hall, and the singer’s arresting presence and vulnerable songwriting had us both smiling through tears at concert's end.