SPELLLING, the professional identity of musician Tia Cabral, was born of Cabral’s desire to create safe and transportive spaces for Black and queer people. As SPELLLING, Cabral works with her band to blend string and brass instruments with sci-fi concepts and spiritual considerations. She also provides the vocals; her voice is capable of real range and transformational power, not unlike Whitney Houston’s or Mya’s. With these elements, the Oakland, California–based artist conjures something that transcends the venue she’s performing in. Seeing SPELLLING live is a transporting experience. In a way not dissimilar to Sly and the Family Stone or Sun Ra, Cabral bends time and space around herself to bring those assembled into her own pocket universe of Afrofuturistic magic.
As is often the case with brilliant musicians, Cabral sees the stage as a place where she can come alive and confront complex issues. “It makes me challenge this deeper core within myself that has a lot of anxiety about existing,” she told me. “It’s a time when it feels like there’s no other option, because I’m here, and everyone’s here putting their time and energy into this. I don’t want to let anyone down and I don’t want to let myself down.” In the studio, Cabral explained, she is also looking to explore different dimensions of selfhood, to follow her intuition, and, in doing so, find a way to connect with her listeners.
In this conversation, Cabral and I discussed the making of “Under the Sun,” a track that transformed from a simple synth-friendly piece to an outright swinging showcase, featuring strings that highlight the romance and depth of the lyrics. We talked about the way the song has evolved from its initial release, on the album Mazy Fly (2019), to its revision on SPELLLING and the Mystery School (2023), and all the ego death that occurred along the way.
—Eric Farwell
THE BELIEVER: I know you studied creative writing in college. Were you reading anything in particular that helped shape the initial version of “Under the Sun”?
TIA CABRAL: Tim Lawrence’s Love Saves the Day. I love how the chapters are almost poetically titled: there’s “visibility,” “expansion.” It explores different themes around the romance of disco culture in ’70s New York. It was a really important time for the coming together of Black culture, queer culture, dance culture. It’s something I was thinking about when I was working on [the 2019 album] Mazy Fly. I was also reading Hold On to Your Dreams. I like to look at history books related to music culture, just to kind of give myself a sense of optimism that what I’m working on isn’t this selfish thing, but that it is part of this larger selfless culture. I like to think about the roots. While I’m not doing anything right now that’s related to disco, when I made “Under the Sun,” I was interested in this disco sort of vibe.
BLVR: The first version of the song has all those keyboards that are pulsing and shifting, but it also feels like an open space. It’s very psychedelic: it’s like the brain is unbridled and we’re just falling with you, or following you wherever you’re going. It’s very much reminiscent of Goblin, or very specifically 1980s Italian horror film soundtracks. Is that what you’re pulling from?
TC: Getting to see Goblin live at the Castro Theatre [in San Francisco] was so cool! You know, it’s definitely something I gravitate toward, the type of ’70s disco my mom listened to. Like Donna Summer and Chic, that kind of stuff, which I think naturally has that really sci-fi, cinematic energy to it.
BLVR: That’s what I’m picking up on in the first version, but in the new version, the groove becomes more clear, and the song swings in certain parts. When you were working with the band, what went into the decision to revise it?
TC: I think there is a certain level of innocence kind of embedded within the first version, probably because I had no expectation or destination for the song, or for the output of anything I was doing. The song was, for me, just about celebrating the ethos of disco in the sense of cosmic Afrofuturism tropes. It’s about space as a vehicle or outlet for existing, and resisting, and being without the oppressive forces that you experience in your body as a Black individual, or just for anybody—the threat of being imprisoned within our bodies. So it’s about that, and also about just celebrating those invisible energies that come together to create something radically new.
When I performed it later, it was always the song that kind of stood out in my set, because before any of The Turning Wheel [2021] stuff, I was doing the Pantheon stuff, which is a little more somber and a little more dark. And then “Under the Sun” was a way to kind of break out and be the fun song. As I started to perform it with the band, it’s always been really special to my heart, but I think it’s been able to mature a little bit. Underneath the music, I’m grappling with this sense of it being a struggle to survive every day, facing violence and fear. I think adding richness to the composition musically, with the strings and all the players that are now part of that, makes it feel a little more complex. When we perform it live, people are still really stoked, and I’m proud of it.
BLVR: I know you took Christina Aguilera’s MasterClass at some point to work on expanding your range. Whether you felt it helped or not, your voice really is different on the revision. The first version is more quiet, and while the second version is breathy and deliberate, you also have some great moments when you break out and really belt it. How did that change feel? Is that something you’re thinking about in revising the song, or is that just something that came out of working with the band?
TC: That’s something that, honestly, I’ve been thinking about a lot: wanting to have a certain resolution with my voice. You can kind of trace an arc with the way I’ve experimented with my voice, and how I’ve come to find and accept that I am the lead singer of this project I created. At first, I was really sort of in denial. I was very much like: These are just experiments. And maybe if this were to ever see the light of day, it would be for someone else. I didn’t think I had the strongest or even the most fitting voice for the material I was writing. Now I see all those things as leading up to where I’ve arrived now, and while I wouldn’t say I love my voice, I find a certain strength in it. When I did the Mystery School album, it was coming from a genuine love and desire to make versions of the music with the band, but also I had a lot of stuff to release, and I wanted to find out how I was going to move forward with my voice sounds and recordings. I was trying to find a middle ground between when I perform live—when I’m tuning out a lot and just want to be there and am less worried about how, you know, the little imperfections of my voice will come through—and the recordings, when I often hold back, because I don’t want to sound silly straining myself. I’m always surprised that my voice really has changed from these years of singing.
I also have my backup singers, Toya [Willock] and Dharma [Moon-Hunter]. Both have amazing vocal abilities. Dharma’s got more of this Billie Holiday thing going on, with a quick, tight vibrato. Toya grew up doing musical theater and has a strong background in vocal training, and can super-project, so she’s in the harmonies, always doing the really high stuff. It was awesome to feel like if I choke or have a little moment, they’ve got me.
BLVR: I know Sun Ra means quite a lot to you. Does he have any influence or presence lyrically in “Under the Sun”?
TC: I drew a lot of inspiration from him. While I was at [the University of California at] Berkeley, I was researching and writing about Sun Ra and Space Is the Place, and this idea of music kind of being—historically, for Black culture and people—the sole vehicle for true liberation, the one thing where you can totally, authentically express yourself without restraint. I’m fascinated by the idea of mythmaking on your own, and how Sun Ra created this origin myth for himself. I was relating it to Oakland and the Black Panther Party, and this idea of escaping Earth, and this alter-destiny for Black people and Black culture.
BLVR: What does it take to trust your band, as someone who is used to making music intuitively?
TC: OK, so I still don’t have a clear sense of what I prefer. It’s still very new for me to go to the band, even with the material I’m working on. I’ve been defaulting to mapping out a bunch of different options. So there’s a level of… I don’t know if I would say “insecurity” anymore, but some anxiety about the translation process, where I’m like, I can’t explain it. I can’t articulate it. I used to think it was just particular to me, but I think it’s just a part of the process in general. So I’m getting over that and realizing that if it’s not coming out this time, there’s always the next time. We’ll do things together. I’ll work with just my drummer, one-on-one, on a bunch of different versions of things until something feels right. When we record, I’m hyperaware of every little thing, but when we do it live, I like to relinquish a lot of that control and just let people do their own thing, since it will be different every time. I think that’s what makes the show special.
BLVR: The violin really comes in and transforms the second recording of the song. Is that something you planned, or was that an idea that emerged in the studio?
TC: You know, when I made “Under the Sun” the first time, I imagined this whole strings arrangement that had, like, a symphonic vibe to it, and I just tried to re-create it with my synth. If I had had the option to, I probably would have used real violins and strings. I think they just speak to my soul the most. I could hear the way they would sound. I think strings evoke an angelic quality and the deep wooden warmth that is a good juxtaposition for the cosmic or sci-fi concepts in my work. That’s my favorite combo. The sense of the human hand and, like, the inconsistencies that you can hear with the bow and the strings—those sorts of tones—are really important to music making for me. I want there to be a real sense of humanness to the songs. In the second version, I’m glad to hear that more with the way my voice is delivering, and with the drums. While it’s good to have the original drum machine version for its tightness and its hypnotic, transportive qualities, the acoustic drums open the song up more.
BLVR: With “Under the Sun” or songs that might be thematically similar, is there anything you would like to remove from the discourse around your music?
TC: I think I’m just grateful that people are interested and curious, and I think the projections or preferences people have are valid. I am always down to entertain those. You don’t see a ton of songwriters producing for themselves, and that’s always something that I would love more opportunities to speak about. There is a sort of gate-kept portrayal of what actually goes into producing and making music, but it’s really about confidence and access. And so I think to just really vocalize that music production aspect and be in charge of the creative direction of your own work—as a stern person, as a person of color, really—it’s just about trusting yourself. It’s literally just that. It’s not about who you know or what crazy training or skills you have. It’s really trusting what you’re doing, and then the title that comes along with that.
