Kali Uchis Finds Strength in Softness on ‘Sincerely,’

The singer’s first English-language album offers a reflective, emotionally rich journey through love and resilience.

Kali Uchis has always shown a knack for creating music that feels personal. Her latest release, Sincerely, strips things back in language but not in emotion. The album, her first sung entirely in English, steers away from the bold Latin rhythms of last year’s Orquídeas in favor of a gentler, more introspective sound. With elements of neo-soul, soft R&B, and subtle jazz influences, the record becomes a kind of personal shelter—open-hearted, richly textured, and rooted in emotional clarity.

The album draws from a quieter palette. Co-produced by Dylan Wiggins and Josh Crocker, its sonic choices—lush strings, softened percussion, and vintage-tinged synths—create an intimate atmosphere that supports Uchis’ lyrical focus on love, vulnerability, and stability. There’s a sense that this quieter mode is not just artistic but personal. Kali Uchis has alluded to a recent transformative experience that led her to seek peace and meaning amid uncertainty. The result is a record that values emotional openness as a form of strength.

Tracks like Silk Lingerie and Fall Apart show her at her most questioning and exposed. She sings about self-doubt and the hope of being loved through it. Still, Sincerely, isn’t all softness. Songs like All I Can Say and Territorial show a different side: confident, playful, and not afraid to draw boundaries. Uchis channels the spirit of 1960s pop divas while injecting her own modern flair, reminding listeners that vulnerability and power can live side by side.

The record closes with ILYSMIH, a tribute to new motherhood and the clarity it brings. As a child’s laughter closes the album, it offers a note of peace that feels earned, not sentimental. Even as the world feels overwhelming, Uchis doesn’t retreat—she reflects, reorients, and sings through it.

While Sincerely, sometimes lingers too long—Lose My Cool runs more than six minutes and tests patience—it rarely loses its sense of purpose. Uchis proves she doesn’t need to shout to be heard. This album doesn’t chase trends. Instead, it holds still long enough to make space for joy, for doubt, and for a love that feels both fragile and deeply grounded.