Homegirl shout-out

Catharsis: After stints in Oakland and Los Angeles, Rituals of Mine’s Terra Lopez and Dani Fernandez have returned home—just in time to celebrate their major label debut, Devoted.

It was an emotion-filled evening for the duo formerly known as Sister Crayon. Singer Lopez didn’t talk much, but when she did it was little snippets, like, “It’s good to be back home.”

“This year has been crazy,” she said. “There’s been lots of ups and downs. Being onstage centers us.”

At a half-filled Harlow’s, Rituals of Mine opened with a low-key screening of its new video for “Ride or Die.” The screens stayed onstage as Lopez, Fernandez and live drummer Adam Pierce started performing, and the visuals converted to colorful, spiraling psychedelic imagery.

Lopez’s connection to the audience was palpable. She slinked around the stage like an emcee-meets-’90s-alt-rocker, making intense eye contact with any member of the audience in her line of sight, giving her heart to anyone willing to take it. She was a living example of the strength in owning your vulnerability.

The cathartic performance made it clear: Lopez and Fernandez had a rough last year. Lopez told the longtime fans in the crowd that no one made them change their name. After losing her father and her best friend, it “didn’t seem right to go on as Sister Crayon.” She added that they could still play pre-Devoted Sister Crayon songs, though, and did so for their encore.

It was a great hometown show, despite a late start and opener the Lique playing too long of a set given the night’s schedule. Local James Cavern delivered a great soulful performance. Rasar, the former-Sacramentan who fronts the Lique, gave Rituals of Mine a tongue-in-cheek tribute with a rendition of “Walk into My Office,” which pokes fun at the vampiric nature of the record industry.

—Aaron Carnes

Take two: The mishandling of Sister Crayon’s Devoted in 2015 has a redemption narrative with its re-release under the band’s new moniker Rituals of Mine. In 2015, Devoted felt progressive, tapping deeper into a symbiosis of R&B and electronica that’s been at play since the formation of the group. It was quite possibly its most-realized body of work, the truest expression of Terra Lopez and Dani Fernandez. Alas, it went critically disregarded among other botches in promotion. What we get with the re-release via Warner Bros. Records is something muscular that cannot break no matter where it is heard—including a formidable future in arenas.

Tom Coyne handles the remastering. His resume includes Adele, Beyoncé, the Weeknd and Taylor Swift. He’s the reason the hits hit. He brings maximalism to Devoted, namely in the singles “Devoted” and “Ride or Die.” The embellishments might feel subtle, but the robust reworks intensify Lopez’s rapturous wails. There’s simply more oomph, more gravitas to her declaration of devotion. As for “Ride or Die” the low end is dynamic and ominous. Originally mastered by Daddy Kev, a key figure in LA’s Low End Theory events, that low-end preeminence is never taken for granted. Coyne’s simply tapped into a deeper potency of Devoted that justifies the shedding of an old, kiddish name for one that reads with intensity.

How much money is Warner Bros. willing to throw into the promotion of Rituals of Mine? Are they smart enough to sell “Ride or Die”—unquestionably anthemic for all ages—or will Lopez’s hushed raps over brooding, ambient synths be mishandled, again? Nothing on this record is inexhaustibly as nihilist and depraved as the Weeknd’s “I Can’t Feel My Face” (also mastered by Coyne), but that’s never going to be part of Rituals of Mines’ identity. “I Wanna Show You Violence” doesn’t quite have the naked balladry of, say, Adele’s “Someone Like You.” It’s more funereal, but that should not make it any more difficult to sell. Devoted remains a sea change, now more than ever, for Lopez and Fernandez. But the work can’t stop at feeding the record Muscle Milk, now is when a major label must prove its salt.

—Blake Gillespie