‘Vagío del 62’ begins with a birth and ends with a burial, but the person at the centre of Santa Ana’s debut album does not die. What gets buried is the weight she’s been carrying.
Across ten interconnected songs, the Andalusian artist Santa Ana, the musical identity of composer, guitarist and singer Marta Franco, traces the life of a fictional woman from her arrival into the world through judgement, control, guilt and finally self-determination. It gives ‘Vagío del 62’ the sweep of a life story while remaining deeply connected to generations of women learning, often later than they should’ve had to, that their lives can belong to them.
‘La BIENVENIDA’ opens the story before ‘fruto de mis ENTRAÑAS (una nana)’ introduces a mother singing to her daughter while already understanding the limitations the world may attempt to place upon her. From there, ‘NIÑA GRITANDO AL CIELO’, ‘Rosa y Clavos’ and ‘sobre su VIENTRE’ push the protagonist further into a society ready to scrutinise her choices, particularly when she attempts to exercise control over her own body and identity.
But by ‘LA SENTENCIA’, something begins to change. The album gradually shifts from endurance towards resistance, with ‘Atentamente, ELLA’ and ‘Atentamente, ÉL’ exploring boundaries and competing voices before ‘Expiación’ begins the final release. ‘La PARTIDA (réquiem)’ then provides a striking conclusion: a requiem not for the woman herself, but for everything she’s decided she will no longer carry.
Musically, Santa Ana gives that transformation an equally adventurous language. The foundations lie in Andalusian rock and flamenco, particularly the exploratory spirit of the 70s, but ‘Vagío del 62’ refuses to treat tradition as something preserved behind glass. Cante, flamenco guitar and copla collide with distortion, rock riffs, electronics and synthesisers, creating a sound that can feel rooted and confrontational all at the same time.
The title itself captures that duality beautifully. “Vagío” can refer to the sensation of faintness or vertigo, but also to a newborn’s first cry. Here it becomes both: the dizziness of everything inherited and the sound of beginning again.
Santa Ana describes the album as a fist slammed on the table, and by the time ‘Vagío del 62’ reaches its final moments, it’s the sound of that fist opening and finally letting go.