Carla Morrison’s latest release will bring happy tears to your eyes

Lucile Bluth famously once said “I’d rather be dead in California than alive in Arizona.” Well, had we known they were hiding talent as sweet as Carla Morrison, out of Phoenix, many of us might not have agreed.

The Tecate-born singer may be the best redemption the troubled state can claim now on the heels of her new album, Déjenme Llorar, out now on iTunes and available later this month at Cactus Records.

Déjenme Llorar translates to Let me Cry/Mourn, so get your hankies ready. But really, that needs no translation as even the album art personifies this demand. It features a poignant black-and-white portrait of the chanteuse with the title of the record written underneath her left eye, making it appear as if she’s literally crying it out. With 14 tracks, it is her most complete album, and evidently a very personal one.

“Apagué mi Mente” is a tone-setter of an album opener, starting off with a single solitary bass line that haunts the track. Then Morrison comes in with almost ghostly hu-hu-hus. She sings of trying to make sense of the world, lighting her soul on fire and turning off her mind. Her solemn lyrics are chillingly beautiful, and her voice is like honey. It’s smooth and it’s sweet.

The album is co-produced by Andres Landon and Juan Manuel Torreblanca (of the group Torreblanca), and was recorded in Morrison’s apartment. There the trio was free to experiment with new sounds, taking trips to the store to find make-shift percussion out of trash cans or water jugs. But at the same time, they stayed true to their Latin roots. “Hasta la Piel”, the record’s second single, is the track with the most traditionally Mexican sound resonating with a heavy guittarón — the deep guitar that’s played mostly in Mariachi bands.

With so many instruments it would be easy to overwhelm, but instead of cluttering the song they work intrinsically together complimenting her voice. It’s most noticeable in, “Maleza.” This is a classic take-me-back song with an explosion of keys and strings that highlights her pleading chorus. “Regresate a mí,” she sings begging her lover, who she calls her muse, to come back to her with her verses. The crescendo of sound coupled with her pleas — it’s enough to give you goose bumps.

But what I love most about Morrison is that she will never hold back emotionally. She is unafraid and completely willing to go to that vulnerable place inside to give us everything. I may be biased through a celestial connection because, like me, she is an emotional Cancer, but I just feel like I completely get her.

She is the type of person who feels everything with all of her heart, and with all of her being. It’s not unlikely for her to bring herself to tears after a live performance, or even right in the middle of a song. And that doesn’t need to be translated, because you feel that in your bones. It can be heard clearly in her voice no matter the language.

She is sentimental, but not whiny in the title track, a song of mourning. “Let me cry,” she sings in Spanish, “I have to get it out from inside my chest and put out the burning flames inside of me with these tears.” Intense, yes, and the lyrics are even more striking in Spanish. This is the marching song of a woman on a mission to get through heartbreak. It’s as if to say, “look, I just need to let this all out and then I’ll be good.”

A good cry is like an emotional Heimlich, all those emotions bubble to the top until you spit them out in the physical form of tears. It unburdens you and clears your airways so you can breath freely again. That’s what she’s offering with this album. It may bring you to tears, but it’s not depressing. It’s familiar. Everyone’s felt this gamut of emotions she’s singing about. And we survived. It’s empowering. In fact, she literally ends the record with a laugh (make sure you listen until the very end). With that Morrison is telling us that you can’t appreciate the rainbow without a little rain.

Watch the video for Déjenme Llorar here.