{"id":3591599,"uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/plays/3591599/?format=json","airdate":"2025-12-15T21:31:49-08:00","show":65389,"show_uri":"https://api.kexp.org/v2/shows/65389/?format=json","image_uri":"","thumbnail_uri":"","song":"Solovino","track_id":null,"recording_id":"5e9488f7-e39b-45d6-9092-b36fda8d0f22","artist":"Luisa Almaguer","artist_ids":["4619405a-b168-4548-a56b-e4587466c382"],"album":"","release_id":null,"release_group_id":null,"labels":[],"label_ids":[],"release_date":"2020-04-28","rotation_status":null,"is_local":false,"is_request":false,"is_live":false,"comment":"Luisa Almaguer is widely covered as a Mexican singer-songwriter and trans artist whose work blends rock-pop intimacy with strong lyrical presence and emotional directness. \u2028Solovino is a title that suggests independence with a bruise. Being “solo” can be freedom, but it can also be the consequence of choosing truth over comfort. The song works best when you hear it as self-definition: a voice narrating the cost of being oneself while refusing to soften the edges for anyone else’s convenience. Luisa’s strengths often show up in that balance—tenderness that’s not timid, vulnerability that doesn’t perform helplessness. The track feels like a late-night confession that still holds posture. In a playlist, Solovino is an emotional anchor: it slows things down, brings focus back to the human voice, and raises the stakes without needing volume. It’s also a song that can change meaning depending on the listener’s moment. If you’re in transition, it hits as solidarity. If you’re in grief, it hits as clarity. If you’re in love, it hits as warning. That’s what good songwriting does: it stays open while still being specific.\u2028Listen: https://open.spotify.com/search/Luisa%20Almaguer%20Solovino","location":1,"location_name":"Default","play_type":"trackplay"}