The Chilean singer-songwriter, one of the great chameleons of Latin pop, presents Femme fatale, an album of 14 songs that dismantles the male myth of the “femme fatale”—a label with which she herself has been marked—in order to reclaim it as a feminist banner. These genres run throughout the work, both in sound and in the aesthetic of her current concerts.
Co-produced with her usual collaborator Manú Jalil, the album features an expanded cast of musicians adding winds, strings, and brass, as well as special guests like Nathy Peluso, Natalia Lafourcade, Silvana Estrada, and Mateo Sujatovich (Conociendo Rusia). The title track opens with clarinet, brass, and a subtle drum beat, while Laferte sings in the first person about a figure blending mystery, sophistication, and danger. Later, “My One and Only Love,” with Natalia Lafourcade and Silvana Estrada, turns a delicate waltz into a sorority anthem before closing with the big band blues of “Vida Normal.”
With Femme fatale, Mon Laferte signs a provocative and deeply brave work: a poetic and musically ambitious portrait that reaffirms her place as one of the freest and most powerful voices in contemporary Latin music. In “Mi hombre,” a lounge-style blues, she evokes Billie Holiday to explore the duality between devotion and guilt: “I warned you, I do everything wrong… I'm a magnet for pain.” Another track, “Otra noche de llorar,” combines swing, pop, and jazz to confront a partner's infidelity with pride, while “Esto es amor,” with Sujatovich, fuses soul, pop, and a jazz waltz that exudes romantic intensity.
In these new pieces, Laferte reflects on autonomy, desire, identity, and power through a narrative loaded with symbolism, irony, and sensuality. The album, a successor to the experimental Autopoiética (2023), is inspired by her recent experience playing Sally Bowles in Cabaret—staged at the Teatro Insurgentes in Mexico City from late 2024 to July 2025—a role that reinforced her approach to the universe of jazz and cabaret. In “Veracruz,” bolero and ranchera intertwine over a imposing bassline; “El gran señor” delves into the sensuality of orchestral bolero. “La tirana,” with Nathy Peluso, unfolds with strings, piano, and mariachi trumpets as both artists discuss men incapable of showing vulnerability. Mon Laferte reinvents herself once again.
