How is the strenght of the spirit measured? Maybe with the voice range that seizes conscience. Listening to Steffie Beltt for the first time was like undoing the buttons of a new color, like baptizing the rebellion of a miracle; like moving through the revolution of the iconic sound of blues, trough the phonic teeth that hide nothing, that keep nothing. The breath of freedom is a love tryst in her. Steffie Beltt honors the faces of modern feelings to take them to the pedestal of the chanted glory. Possessed attitude, living flesh that cries out for creation and confession, and passion with the eyes of a song.

Thus she appears, with her voice that recalls an escape, with her vocal nest of a fisherwoman: she throws, she catches, and she transforms the note into an unexplainable identity. Her music becomes an army of perceptions, from the tenderness of the memory to the wired thematic image, the one who asks for justice! The one who tells a story about a thousand women and their dreams and their melted and forgotten filaments as in her song “Y disparó”. Steffie Beltt walks through the chronological vein, filling her lyrics with resurrections that envelop themselves with the character of the artist, with the poetic painting of the woman when she sings.

Writing about her musical proposal is an exercise of sensorial contemplation, one confiscates all history just to live freely the minutes of each song. She’s an extraordinary machine in the prime of the present. Steffie Beltt, the helm is a breath which gets a hold to sigh, to dream, to ignite the flame of life and sweat with the brightness of a new dawn.

Translation by: Iván ˈCapoˈ Artalejo