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With the release of her fourth album Spirituals, Santi White, also known as Santigold is Philadelphia-born. Santigold stays true to the motifs she’s used since her debut as a solo artist, crafting an impressive project
that is both personal and topical. Elements of rock,
reggae, pop, hip hop and dance music populate the soundscapes she creates, combining to form a product that would be impossible for anyone to copy successfully. 

Santi White, has been active in the music scene since the early two-thousands, as a producer, writer and artist. Through her own work and her collaborations, she has built an image of herself as a professionally versatile, outspoken, and artistically driven woman. Though significant mainstream success has eluded her, she has received near-uniform critical acclaim. Recently, she was even mentioned in Beyoncé’s “Break My Soul (The Queens Remix),” alongside black cultural icons such as Rosetta Tharpe
and Grace Jones. 

So, how did she reach this level of recognition and creative definition? It wasn’t a quick rise. Throughout her journey to where she is today, Santigold has taken up multiple positions in different parts of the music industry. In the ‘90s, she worked as a talent scout and artist representative for Epic Records. She also co-wrote the title track of GZA’s third album “Beneath the Surface”, among other forays into writing and production. 

Her first real outing as an artist came in 2001, as the frontwoman of Philly-based punk rock band Stiffed. In their songs, White’s distinctive voice slides over fast riffs and addictive drumbeats, switching from hushed casual tones to energetic vocals with ease. Stiffed failed to make much of an impact beyond the underground scene, but it did catch the attention of Lizard King Records, who offered Santigold a
solo contract. 

Santigold, the eponymous debut album released in 2007, was White’s first big breakthrough. A variety of music publications praised her for her ability to genre-bend, and other larger artists took notice as well. 

 She has performed shows with the likes of Jay-Z and Kanye West and released collaborations
with Drake and Pharrell Williams, among others. 

It seems fitting that Santigold’s debut was self-titled, because of how closely linked she is to her own musical evolution. White’s consistent awareness of the nuances of her musical persona and the reactions it elicits has made her career feel unified, despite its ups and downs. She has never shied away from putting her identity into her music, though that identity is constantly and subtly shifting. 

The idea that an artist is always present and visible in their work seems like a given but isn’t necessarily true. Janelle Monae for example, who released an EP and two innovative albums as android alter-ego Cindy Mayweather before ever moving into more firmly personal territory. There’s also the less exciting territory of radio-friendly pop music, whichoften does all it can to erase the presence of a singer in favor of mindless, bland tunes and messages. Santigold distances herself from this kind of pop in her very first single, “Creator,” singing ‘Me, I’m a creator, thrill is to make it up. The rules I break got me a place up on the radar.’ 

By the time her secondalbum, 2012’s Master of My Make-Believe released White had become a star in her own right and was far from her independent roots. Master of My Make-Believe was criticized as a departure from the sonic freshness that was Santigold, with some arguing that her music’s steady loss of fervor mirrored her rise into the corporate environment of the industry. Granted, there was praise as well, but most regarded Make-Believe as a downgrade from its predecessor. 

Going quiet for a few years, White returned in 2016 with 99¢, both a response to criticism and a stunning statement on her beliefs of the way consumerism and advertisement change music, usually for the worse. The cover sees her trapped under a film of plastic in an uncomfortable, doll-like position, surrounded by colorful junk and objects to be bought or sold. Stand-out tracks “Can’t Get Enough of Myself” and “Big Boss Big Time Business” rejoice in the vanity and absurdity of celebrity, while other outings like “Who I Thought You Were” examine what it means to change as an artist and as a person. 

Spirituals is Santigold’s latest since 99¢ six years ago, though she did release I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Sessions in 2018, a mixtape that was notable for its free-flowing dancehall sound. Spirituals is more self-contained than any of her past work, which is likely due in part to it being recorded during the pandemic. Santigold notes that the fraught combination of the virus, the California wildfires and the Black Lives Matter movement urged her to create something, more as an outlet than anything else. 

In an interview with The Philadelphia Inquirer, she states “…I just started recording. It was the only place that I got to inhabit my full self. I realized these songs were my way inward, and then up and out.”

White went on to say that she called the album Spirituals because the songs she was creating allowed her to find joy in a painful time, as did the traditional spiritual music of slaves sung in the past. For listeners, the joy of the album comes through in how it manages to act as a culmination of the past decade and a half of Santigold’s musical identity. 

Lead single “High Priestess” is a song that would fit in perfectly on Master of My Make-Believe, with its lively beat and confidently assertive lyrics. Positing herself as an immovable musical guardian of sorts, she notes how far she’s ascended and leaves the impression that she has her sights set even higher. With the advances she has made, this image
she brings forth is more earned than it would have been a decade ago. 

Another high-point has to be the final song, “Fall First.” The distorted, harsh instrumentation in the background harkens all the way back to
her days as the lead singer of Stiffed. Her choice to lean into a harde rock-oriented sound on an album full of light, airier songs may seem out of place, but it works. It is a reminder of Santigold’s versatility and her willingness to explore different genres. 

“No Paradise” expands the scope of focus a bit further, tackling broad ideas of social injustice over a deceivingly upbeat backing track. This one is straight from the reggae-infused I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Sessions, and offers a window into the stress that fueled White’s creation of Spirituals. In the pre-chorus, she poses the problem, terrifying and nebulous, singing “People suffering, they suffering. Crush us and they crush again”. The emotions of helplessness against a larger struggle are surprising coming from such a calm-sounding song, but that’s Santigold’s intention. Later in the bridge, she offers a call to action, chanting “Thieve, break, take, more power. Seize, lie, steal, more power”. This chant takes the song from pessimism to hope, and makes all the difference in the message she’s trying to send.

If the album does have anything working against it, it’s that it feels like more of the same. With most of the tracks sharing very similar sounds to previous projects, it’s as if there is no new ground being tread. For all of their faults, past albums like Master of My Make-Believe and I Don’t Want: The Gold Fire Sessions provided steps forward for her as an artist. Spirituals doesn’t make any similar dramatic leaps, instead playing it safe and remaining in areas she knows she is good at. 

Despite this, Spirituals is a welcome addition to Santigold’s catalogue for the reflection it provides. It exists as a celebration of her development and her self, without stating that explicitly. 

Most importantly, hearing it makes on wonder what style or genre she’s going to add to her arsenal next, now that she’s effectively mastered so many others. Rather than acting as any kind of victory lap, it is a deeply personal stepping stone towards her future as an artist. Spirituals is out now on all major streaming platforms.