Chilean artist Ana Tijoux cites this motto as inspiration for Vida: “Our best revenge against death is life.” Her first album in a decade is a joyous look at grief in all its forms, and Tijoux’s unflinching optimism remains one of the most refreshing parts of her work. Working with longtime producer Andres Celis, Tijoux returns with an effervescent blend of thumping hip-hop and Latin American rhythms, leaning into pop balladry alongside her deft rapping.
After starting her career with Chilean rap group Makiza, Tijoux found international success as a solo artist. The title of her album 1977, released in 2010, marked the year that she was born in France to Chilean parents who’d fled the Pinochet dictatorship. Its introspective songs explored her family’s eventual return to Chile with a calm, decisive flow and jazzy production rooted in ’90s New York hip-hop. On 2011’s La Bala, Tijoux turned her focus outward, decrying economic inequality and referencing contemporary political movements including Chilean student protests, the Arab Spring, and Occupy Wall Street. On 2014’s Vengo, Tijoux brought Indigenous pride to the forefront. prominently featuring Andean flutes and making space for collaboration with other artists from the Global South, notably Palestinian rapper Shadia Mansour on the solidaric “Somos Sur.” With Vida, Tijoux continues to extend the invitation to fight injustice alongside her.
While recording Vida in her new home city of Barcelona, Tijoux said, she spent time with a friend who’d worked as a clown to comfort people living in refugee camps across the Middle East. His ability to sustain hope inspired the slogan at the heart of the album. Though Vida is hardly rose-tinted, Tijoux is attuned to the promise of resilience and camaraderie. She champions this mentality on “Tania,” an ode to her late sister. What starts as a sentimental exploration of words left unsaid opens up into an electric cumbia celebration. Tijoux sings of channeling her sister’s warmth into her own daily life, whether planting a sunflower or dancing until dawn. She understands how a party can be a sanctuary—a place to exhale.
Tijoux’s unwavering earnestness can sometimes take her into well-trodden territory. Empowerment pop like “Bailando Sola Aquí” (“Dancing Alone Here”) is a stale look at self-acceptance, depicting familiar images of searching for a partner to fill the void without the cheeky fun of a song like “Yo Perreo Sola,” Bad Bunny’s ode to twerking solo. “Millonaria” (“Millionaire”) reminds us that money doesn’t buy happiness—not a message that inspires the same fervor as the cries for class solidarity in 2020’s “Antifa Dance.” Despite a few duller moments, Tijoux keeps it interesting with a new embrace of reggaeton and Afrobeats on songs like “Cora” and “Dime Qué.” She can save the occasional clunky lyric with her effortless delivery.
Tijoux’s collaboration with iLe of Puerto Rican hip-hop group Calle 13 on “Busco Mi Nombre” (“I Search for My Name”) is an affecting highlight. The duo commemorates the people “disappeared” by the dictatorship in Argentina in the late ’70s and early ’80s with a powerful preface from a member of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a group of women who founded a longstanding resistance movement. The song’s power lies in its specificity, conjuring images of undercover government agents breaking door locks to pull citizens away. Atop a soaring orchestral arrangement, Tijoux sings of carrying their collective memories with her. While the pain lingers, she insists it isn’t a burden: She’s ready to outrun the darkness.
