Kat Dahlia uses her voice as a weapon. It’s a voice that cuts sharp and deep, straight to the chambers of the heart. Like the beautiful variations of the flower genus her name represents, the Miami-born rapper-singer-songwriter is complex, intoxicating and unforgettable. There’s no one quite like Kat Dahlia, who has the sultry inflection of Nelly Furtado, the disposition of Rihanna, the flow of Santigold, the presence of Gwen Stefani and the majestically raw vocal prowess of Amy Winehouse and Adele. She is an artist of her own making. “There’s no other way to stand out than just being yourself,” she says. “I write my own music. People say my voice is very unique and I do this rappy thing that’s kind of different, but if you really want to break it down, I’m just being myself.” Born Katriana Huguet (and formerly known as Kat Hue), she’s the rare artist who will go into the studio and record nine songs in one day. Tell her she can’t do it; and she’ll prove the naysayers wrong. For years, she waited tables six days a week to save up enough money to independently fund studio sessions, a music video and an EP all on her own. That combination of hustle and infectious vocals is why music industry veteran Sylvia Rhone swiftly signed Kat to her Vested in Culture label with Epic Records the very first time she heard her demos. It’s easy to understand why Rhone didn’t want to let Kat Dahlia slip away. She’s a natural born storyteller whose material comes directly from the hard knocks that life has served her. “My songwriting is all stories. It’s influenced by a lot of blues, Elvis, and the Buena Vista Social Club, which are all made up of stories.” In her song “Tumbao,” for instance, Kat playfully questions the stereotype associated with being a Latina recording artist: “Sí, yo hablo Español / But, baby, I ain’t trying to fit that mold / I’ma keep my creative control / I’m just a South Beach girl with a lot of soul.”
Kat Dahlia – Clocks
The spirited 22-year-old was raised by Cuban-born parents in Miami Beach. Though fluent in English and Spanish, her French surname, Huguet, is owed to her paternal great-grandparents who came to Cuba from Lebanon. Kat’s parents emigrated to the U.S. as children and their island culture carried over into the language and salsa music that was fundamental to her upbringing, as Celia Cruz, Tito Puente and Willies wafted through the air in her abuela’s kitchen. Kat performed her first solo, “Tomorrow” from the musical Annie, at a benefit when she was 8-years-old. “I always knew I wanted to do music. I just didn’t know how I was going to get there.” At 15, she started writing her own songs. “I would rip instrumentals from YouTube to make songs because I didn’t have a producer or a band.” Self-reliance is a trait Kat learned early to survive her riches-to-rags childhood. Her parents were once successful entrepreneurs who owned a moving company, but their business unraveled after they divorced, and Kat and three of her six siblings went to live with their mother. “My parents came from no money, made money, but little by little went back to the struggle. We lived in a hotel room for a while and there was a time when I slept on a sofa-bed with two of my sisters while my other sister slept in an armchair. That’s when I realized I had to do shit on my own.” Kat recalls those harsh experiences in her most revealing song, “Gangsta,” as she vividly sketches the painful details of her life: “No, I ain’t stuntin’ like my daddy / He’s living with my grammy / Used to be a big baller / He’s surviving off of gambling / But I love him, he’s my daddy / Yeah, I love him, he’s my daddy / Put him in a big house before I ever see a Grammy.” By age 18, Kat had saved up enough money from waitressing at Miami hotspots like STK to strike out on her own, however, the nagging feeling that she wanted more from life prompted her to move to New York. She soon settled in North Bergen, New Jersey, but on arrival in 2010, became derailed by a toxic relationship. A year later, she emerged confident, strong, running her own game and endowed with the insight to channel her emotions into songs. Kat’s electrifying sound is a sultry mix of Nelly Furtado meets Rihanna with touches of Latin, hip-hop and reggae influences sprinkled throughout her infectious pop songs, and she deftly alternates between spitting pure, infectious lyrical fire in club-bangers like “Fuego” and “Fire Man” and poetically pondering heartbreak and relationships in standouts such as “My Garden” and “Walk On Water.” “I feel like a messenger,” she explains. “I want send a positive message of love and put out good music that constantly challenges me as an artist.” Beware: Kat Dahlia has arrived, she’s armed and she’s dangerous.
Kat Dahlia – Clocks Lyrics:
Black night, cocaine
Free up, make rain, oh
We so about it
Sun down, gold chain
My cup, my Jane, oh
We so about it
We live up in the jungle,
We’re cocky, but humble
You don’t wanna rumble,
Speak up, bitch! Don’t mumble!
You want it you got it,
Too fly for the party
Bitch, I’ll be your preacher,
I get this shit starteD
Chorus:
When the clock strikes twelve
I’mma set it off just like I wanna
Oh baby, when the clock strikes twelve
We gonna turn it up
Don’t tell your mama!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
White noise, propane
Black doors, no name ohhh
We so about it!
Red lips no taste,
Red eyes no hey, oh
We so about it!
I don’t got pajamas,
I do want I wanna!
I don’t give a fuck bitch,
I’ll sleep in the corner
I live in these streets,
I don’t care if they’re haunted
It’s hot on my block
If you slip you’re a goner
Chorus:
When the clock strikes twelve
I’mma set it off just like I wanna
Oh baby, when the clock strikes twelve
We gonna turn it up
Don’t tell your mama!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Cause when the clock strikes twelve
All the freaks come out and play, heyyy!
And when the clock strikes twelve
We gonna ride it like a train hey, hey, hey
Oh, you wanna ride with me hey, hey
Come baby ride my train
You wanna ride with me hey, hey, hey
Chorus:
Cause when the clock strikes twelve
I’mma set it off just like I wanna
Oh baby, when the clock strikes twelve
Yeah, we gonna turn it up
Don’t tell your mama!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
We so about it!
