So I’m folding laundry on a Tuesday, finding his old t-shirt at the bottom of the pile – you know, the one you kept for “comfort” but really just to torture yourself – when Katrina Sotera’s ‘Don’t Cry’ comes on. Suddenly this retro soul groove has me in blue eyeshadow and Farrah Fawcett waves, imagining chocolate-brown Cutlass Supremes cruising down Sunset and white Camaros with blue pinstripes parked outside discos where everyone’s wearing platforms and lines of cocaine are on the tables. The bass line makes me want to dig out my mom’s old halter tops and strut around my apartment like I own the whole damn building. This track carries all that 70s energy – when heartbreak meant you put on your hottest outfit and danced until you forgot his name. And honestly? Maybe they knew something we don’t.
Katrina Sotera, a Filipinx & Costa Rican-American alternative R&B singer-songwriter from Queens, NY, built something special with this retro soul track. The production stays warm and analog – those bass lines hit deep in your hips, making you move without thinking about it. “So baby don’t cry for me, no / Cuz baby I’m not crying for you” – she sings it like she means it. Like she’s actually been through the shit and decided she looks better without the baggage. The confidence feels earned, you know? Queens girls don’t fake that energy. The whole thing grooves at that perfect tempo where you could either slow dance or strut down the street feeling untouchable. Actually, scratch that – you’re definitely strutting.
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What gets me is how she flips the whole sad-girl narrative on its head. “I wanna fly / I wanna swim / I wanna walk on water” – these aren’t desperate pleas, they’re declarations. She wants the impossible – transcendence, basically. Says it straight, no apologies. The track keeps building. When she admits “I’m on a limb / I’m running thin / I’m running out of time,” you see her reality and it isn’t defining it. She’s actually fine. Not that performative “I’m fine” we text at 2am after three glasses of rosé.
The production deserves its own paragraph because holy shit, this is how you do retro without falling into karaoke territory. Those guitar licks slide in smooth as hell, coating everything in this warm, honeyed tone that feels expensive. The drums sit back in the pocket, never rushing, letting each element breathe. It’s giving Studio 54 meets modern therapy breakthrough – sophisticated but raw, polished but real. Someone understood the assignment when they mixed this.
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Then we get to the bridge and Katrina just goes for it: “I want the questions / With answers / The motherfucking passwords.” She wants the cheat codes to life, and honestly, who doesn’t? But here’s where it gets good – “I wanna love me / So wholly / Like 100% of the time.” That’s the real fucking flex.
She strips everything back near the end until it’s just her voice and that insistence: “Don’t fuckin cry / I’m fuckin fine.” The repetition feels hypnotic like she’s casting a spell or maybe breaking one. Either way, by the time the track fades, you believe her. More importantly, you believe yourself.
Katrina Sotera built something that feels necessary right now. Every element works – the production stays warm and analog, the vocals never beg, that final “Don’t fuckin cry / I’m fuckin fine” lands with perfect timing. I keep coming back to how she handles the whole thing with such grace. No dramatics. No revenge fantasy. Just a woman who decided she’s good and means it. That’s the revolutionary part. Stream this immediately. Play it loud. Let it remind you what actual confidence sounds like.
