Sabine McCalla announces her highly anticipated debut album, Don’t Call Me Baby, set for release on November 7th via Gar Hole Records. The Brooklyn- and New Orleans-based musician has shared the first single, “Sunshine Kisses,” accompanied by a mesmerizing video that captures the song’s warmth and introspective energy. Fans can pre-order the album now and immerse themselves in the full audiovisual experience.
Sabine McCalla crafts a distinctive sound that blends multi-cultural American roots music with her Haitian heritage. Drawing from Brazilian samba, southern soul, British rock & roll, and New Orleans’ vibrant music scene, she filters these influences into a cohesive yet eclectic sonic tapestry. Don’t Call Me Baby demonstrates her ability to weave disparate musical threads into something entirely her own.
The single “Sunshine Kisses” was inspired by a moment of personal reflection. Sabine explains, “I wrote ‘Sunshine Kisses’ while learning a Brazilian tune and reading Pleasure Activism by Adrienne Marie Brown. I had just finished the chapter on self-esteem and was envisioning myself cloaked in a ray of sunlight kissing my face; sunshine kisses. A man I was seeing had just told me he had another lover, and his answer to my anger was to say ‘baby, don’t be so upset.’ And I said, ‘don’t call me baby.’” The song came alive with the contributions of Ajai Combelic on samba-inspired rhythms, Sam Doores on guitar, and Howe Pearson’s suggestion to reverse the lyrics in the second verse, creating a psychedelic, liminal atmosphere. Sabine layered multiple harmonies and octaves, resulting in a rich, textured recording that perfectly matches the song’s emotional depth.
Raised in New York City as the daughter of Haitian immigrants, Sabine grew up immersed in a wide spectrum of music, from Motown classics to Haitian folk, Beatles standards, and Bob Marley albums. Alongside her sister Leyla McCalla (Sons of Our Native Daughters, Carolina Chocolate Drops), she studied classical violin from a young age, forming the foundation for her nuanced musical approach. “I could see similarities between some Haitian songs and some Beatles songs,” she says. “Haitian music has a lot of gang vocal harmonies, and I heard similar things in the girl group songs I loved, too. I started to see how all those sounds connected.”
Don’t Call Me Baby carries forward that ethos of connection and diversity. The album’s nine tracks traverse genres and generations, seamlessly blending country, R&B, folk, soul, and Caribbean grooves. Songs like “Tall Lonesome Cowboy” nod to the 1950s with stacked harmonies, while “Anything Without You” explores doo-wop melodies and tropical rhythms. “Deep River,” performed with her sister Leyla, honors the spiritual tradition of the 150-year-old classic, while “Louisiana Hound Dog” channels the raw energy of rock & roll. Contemporary blues spiritual “I Went to the Levee” draws inspiration from Irma Thomas and addresses social issues in Sabine’s adopted hometown of New Orleans.
New Orleans is integral to the album’s sound, imbuing tracks with swampy southern air, Mississippi mud, and the city’s cultural richness. Sabine collaborated with more than a dozen local musicians, including Sam Doores as producer and guitarist, Ajai Combelic on guitar, Roy Brent and Gina Leslie on bass, and vocalists The Lostines, Leonie Evans, Tif Lansome, Maddy Kirgo, and Sam Gelband, whose layered harmonies give the album a communal, celebratory feel.
With Don’t Call Me Baby, Sabine McCalla continues the tradition of American folk music as a living, evolving blend of global influences. Her debut album is a bold, vivid statement, bridging the diverse sounds that have shaped her while asserting a voice that is distinctly her own.
We caught up with Sabine below.
Don’t Call Me Baby blends such a wide range of influences — from samba to soul to rock & roll. What was your process for weaving these sounds into a cohesive album?
I suppose I’ve been processing these influences all of my life. Each song had a different intention. Sunshine Kisses was written when I was listening to a lot of samba, Louisiana Hound Dog was written when I was just thinking of a melody with the words; most of these songs were written with the words first and then the melody.
Growing up in a Haitian household while listening to Motown, the Beatles, and girl groups clearly shaped your musical lens. How do you think your Haitian heritage comes through most strongly on this record?
I think my choices of selecting certain rhythmic qualities and horns on Sunshine Kisses is the strongest connection to my Haitian heritage. Howe Pearson, a drummer trained in Haitian and African drumming, who also sings and helped produce the record, helped build that soundscape. As well as the horn players that you hear at the end of the song, which are used in Haitian Vodou ceremonies remind me of the music I grew up with and was listening to at the time.
You’ve said you noticed similarities between Haitian folk songs and Beatles tunes. Can you share an example of one of those “aha” connections that stuck with you while writing?
I was singing back up for RAM, a band from Haiti that has been playing together for over 30 years, while working on this record. And I was hearing the harmonies and back up vocals singing in unison and it dawned on me that that was how I wanted everyone to sing. RAM sings Haitian folk songs which often begin very stripped down before the whole band comes in or another vocalist. Learning their songs brought my own understanding of creating that build within the songs. And the diversity of full sound to minimal, I think, is something that always catches my ear.
New Orleans plays such a central role in this record. How has living and creating in that city changed you as an artist?
New Orleans is one of the most inspiring cities in the world. I’ve been inspired by so many New Orleans musicians, but the queen, Irma Thomas, was always a voice to embody. And then when I moved to New Orleans, I fell in love with swamp pop, a Louisiana two-step and the roots music of Louisiana. I fell into the country scene, a genre I really wasn’t all too privy to. Deepening my understanding of various musics, in the melting pot of New Orleans, has gifted me place, song and rhythms.
The record features collaborations with more than a dozen local musicians. How did that sense of community influence the final sound of the album?
Well, my backing band was already a dream to work with. They were all very in tune with each other. They were trading instruments, talking about the song influences and how to strive for them. The conversations of inclusion just kept coming. Sam Doores, another producer on the record, was very thoughtful about who to involve. Leyla McCalla, my sister, was an obvious choice to sing a spiritual with. Craig Flory, of Tuba Skinny and Jackson & The Janks, was incredibly versitile adding bass sax on the rhythm and blues songs and adding a flute melody on the livelier songs. And then adding the Haitian horns felt like I was really surrounding myself with all my influences on my recording. We experienced some real joy laying down the tracks and including everyone in.
Songs like I Went to the Levee tackle gender inequality and violence. How do you balance the joy and celebration of roots music with the weight of social commentary?
Roots music often has a focus on pain and suffering. I don’t try to shy away from these conversations. I wrote, I Went to the Levee, as an allegory to what is behind the pain of the boy or the man who shoots and kills without consequence. I think writing from the perspective of empathy and compassion alleviates the trial of incorporating social commentary, but I can’t say there’s much joy in that song.
Your sister Leyla joins you on Deep River. What was it like to bring your shared family history and musical upbringing into that recording?
Leyla and I experienced a deep sadness after the passing of our older brother, Daniel, and our grandfather Papi Ben. We recorded the song face to face, knee to knee. It was a cathartic experience to sing with her, something we rarely do.
We didn’t grow up in church. We grew up playing classical instruments and instrumentation. So it was quite a solace to share with her.
“Louisiana Hound Dog” has such raw rock & roll energy, while “Anything Without You” leans into Caribbean grooves. Do you approach writing differently depending on the style you’re channeling, or does it all come from the same place?
Yes. I write differently depending on the style I’m channeling. But then again, it all comes from me.
Your debut EP earned you a slot at the Newport Folk Festival. How did the experience of releasing that project compare to the process of making a full-length debut like Don’t Call Me Baby?
Well, we recorded “folk” in a day. Steph Green and Leonie Evans had been singing those songs with me in my kitchen and, for the most part, we just went with what we had and did like Alan Lomax, recording live on the spot. Don’t Call Me Baby was an entirely different elongated process. We laid down the base tracks and built it up over the next two years, redoing vocals, adding harmonies, redoing harmonies, adding flute, and this and that. It was amazing to hear these songs come to light.
Roots music is about connection — across time, geography, and culture. What do you hope listeners will feel most connected to when they hear this record?
I hope they connect with themselves.
CONNECT WITH SABINE MCCALLA:
Facebook | Instagram | Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp | TikTok | Youtube
