Deputy arts editor Angela Ramírez reflects on the time after winter break she spent without her AirPods and how mental recollections of Omar Apollo got her through it.
It may be because of my Jan. 2 birthday. It could also be that I’ve gaslit myself into believing I’m built for the bone-chilling weather. Or maybe I just love wearing my trusty Super Puff.
But winter has always been my favorite season.
Somehow, I’ve even made it through the city’s longest stretch of cold weather in 30 years frostbite-free. Though, I can’t give all of my thanks to a puffer coat — other sources of warmth found their way to me.
Devastatingly, I forgot my AirPods at home before coming back to Rogers Park from winter break. Because of this, I’ve had to — albeit embarrassingly — resort to reciting songs in my head.
On the intercampus shuttle, my morning walks to environmental journalism with Arts Editor Hanna Houser, in the sweat-ridden Halas cardio room — all of these locations have seen an embarrassed 22-year-old silently humming everything from “Mirrors” by Justin Timberlake to “Hermoso Carino” by Vicente Fernández.
Somehow, I think I’ve convinced myself if I hum a song fast enough I’ll get to my destination in record time. One of my go-to anthems for a brisk walk in the cold is by one of my favorite artists, Omar Apollo.
Hailing from just around the southern Lake Michigan bend, Omar Apolonio Velasco is a first-generation American, like me. His parents came to the U.S. from Mexico, raising Apollo and his three older siblings in Hobart, Indiana.
Apollo’s rise to stardom occurred seemingly overnight, as his first single “Ugotme” — uploaded to Spotify using money lent from a friend — saw 20,000 streams on the platform 24 hours after its release.
Now a GRAMMY-nominated artist, Apollo has amassed over 7.3 million monthly listeners on Spotify and has collaborated with chart-topping artists Kali Uchis and Dominic Fike — all while preserving his Mexican roots.
While the 26-year-old’s discography is almost entirely in English, I always find myself drawn to his Spanish tunes.
The general aesthetic of tunes like “En El Olvido” and “Frío” is rather heartbreaking, but my intake of somber songs grows exponentially with colder weather.
Lyrically, “Frío” is easily understood, but still spellbinding. Apollo sings of unrequited love and the process of coping with heartbreak.
Instrumentally, the 2019 single marries a softened dembow sound with the lyrical heft of an R&B song. It’s a juxtaposition well-executed in just two minutes.
“Y cada vez que te veo en la calle / Que me va todo bien y tú sabes / Te la pasas llamando a mis padres / ¿Que no ves que no somos iguales?” Apollo sings.
Despite the chilling turmoil of a lost love, in “Frío” I find a warmth Apollo’s Spanish singing. The words carry a different, more sentimental weight to me — being frío is so much more than being cold, just loving someone doesn’t equate as estar enamorado and so on.
After getting the opportunity to photograph and review his Chicago shows twice now for The Phoenix, I find myself reminiscing on his concerts and the special moments he shared with fellow Latinos in the crowd.
The beauty of the Spanish language carries with it warm homeliness, blanketing me even on the chilliest winter afternoons.
Featured image by Angela Ramírez / The Phoenix
