Kali Uchis at the Kia Forum — Two Nights of Lover Girl Heaven
By: Jesse Zapatero
COUGHS
I’ve been lucky enough to see Kali Uchis a handful of times over the years — Austin in 2017, again in 2018, and once more in 2019. Back then, the venues were smaller, the crowds were more intimate, and the production leaned simple. What hasn’t changed, though, is how Kali makes every performance feel like a personal invitation into her world. That’s why, when she announced two nights at the Kia Forum, I couldn’t choose just one. I went to both, and I’m glad I did — because each night revealed a different facet of her.
The kind of night that makes you forget about LA traffic and parking stress starts before you even step inside. Outside the Forum, the energy was buzzing — a pre-show runway where everyone strutted like they’d been personally styled by Kali herself. Bootleg tees, the unmistakable scent of bacon-wrapped hot dogs, rhinestones catching the last bits of daylight. I caught myself people-watching just as much as I was itching to get inside. This wasn’t just a concert — it was a congregation.
The Forum has hosted plenty of pop icons, but this felt different from the second I stepped in. Walking into the venue, it was like being baptized into a “lover girl” church. Everyone was glowing in satin, chiffon, lace, sheer pinks, and angelic whites. No dress code was ever given, but somehow, everyone knew the assignment. It felt unspoken — we weren’t just here to see Kali, we were here to be part of her world.
The openers, Thee Sacred Souls, were the perfect prelude. Their retro-soul sound washed over the crowd like velvet. Smooth, nostalgic, and deeply felt. It wasn’t filler, it was a proper warm-up — the kind that gets you swaying before you even realize it. And by the time the lights dimmed for Kali, the room was vibrating with anticipation.
She didn’t storm the stage with pyro or fireworks. Instead, the night opened with a voiceover from Dr. Myles Munroe, speaking on divine timing and preparation. It set the tone: this wasn’t just hype, it was something more intentional. Then, slowly, Kali appeared behind a glass-like screen, crawling, peeking, knocking gently as if to say: “You’re in my house now.” It was theatrical, intimate, and deeply Kali.
The first act leaned into her Sincerely album. I’ll admit — as someone who first fell in love with her through Por Vida and Isolation, I haven’t lived with her newer material as much. But that didn’t matter. The way she performed those tracks, wrapped in fog, framed by visuals that looked like dreams you didn’t want to wake up from — it was hypnotic. At one point, a lone headlight cut through the haze and the stage morphed into a motorcycle fantasia, with Kali commanding the space like a director rather than just a singer. That’s her gift: she doesn’t rely on high-energy choreography or spectacle, she relies on stillness, intention, and a magnetic presence that makes the smallest glance or slow crouch feel like fireworks.
Her wardrobe shifts kept that duality alive — from flowy white gowns to sharp latex, always adorned with flowers, rhinestones, or both. Softness and sting. Angel and vamp. She’s always been good at balancing contrasts, but on an arena stage, it hit harder than ever.
Between outfit changes, home video collages played with her narration — memories of family, immigration, and community. In LA, with a largely Latine crowd, it landed like a heartbeat. You could feel the arena collectively nodding, many of us recognizing ourselves in her story. It stopped being just about the spectacle and became about belonging.
The second half of the night dug deeper into her catalog. She dusted off fan favorites like “Loner” and “Melting,” threw in collabs like “Sad Girlz Luv Money,” and had the whole Forum screaming along to “See You Again.” And when she hushed the crowd for an a cappella “Sycamore Tree” off Por Vida, it was unreal — thousands of people actually went silent, her voice filling the arena unaccompanied. That’s the kind of control very few artists can command.
Night one had the big surprise: Peso Pluma striding out in sleek black to join her, angel wings on her back, for their first-ever live duet of “Igual Que Un Ángel.” The chemistry was magnetic, the kind of performance that makes you grateful you were there in the moment, because you know it’ll be replayed a million times online — but it won’t feel like what it felt like live.
And while she had every reason to close the show with spectacle, she chose softness instead. The biggest hits came — “telepatía,” “I Wish You Roses,” “Moonlight” — but then she lingered. Talking to fans, reading signs, granting a cappella requests like a goddess granting wishes. Night one got “Fall Apart.” Night two, she gave us an unreleased track — a gift for showing up twice, I told myself.
Even outside the arena, the experience didn’t end. Kali’s Homebody brand had its own photo op activations — mirrors, roses, lyrics written across the walls. Fans waited in lines to snap pictures like it was part of the pilgrimage. And the merch? Soft pinks, lipstick tanks, rhinestone caps — less like merch and more like curated wardrobe drops. Buying into the Kaliverse wasn’t optional, it was irresistible.
Walking out of the Forum both nights, I felt different than when I walked in. Softer, more adorned, and oddly lighter, like the heartbreaks I’ve carried had been sung out of me. That’s what makes a Kali Uchis show worth it. It’s not about wild partying or losing your mind — it’s for the soft and the chaotic, the ones with rhinestone tears in their playlists. It’s for anyone who’s ever wanted to either be her, or be with her.
And for two nights in LA, I got to be both.
