Seventeen Years of Santigold: A Brief Retrospective
Usually, when someone says they can’t remember who they were before hearing an album, it’s not literal. In my case, it is — I was two when Santigold’s Santigold (2008) came out. I remember first seeing its iconic album cover on my mom’s iPod Touch (and at that point it may have even still had its original title of Santogold). A greyscale printed photo of Santi White with her head tilted down, staring at the camera. Mouth agape, gold glitter pouring out; haunting, artsy, singular.
“L.E.S. Artistes,” show-stopping album opener that might as well have gone triple-platinum in alternative circles back in the day, sets the scene in New York City. The title literally means “Lower East Side artists” — the demographic to whom she says “If you see me, keep going, be a pass-by waver / Build me up / Bring me down / Just leave me out, you name-dropper / (...) You’re my enemy, you fast talker.” A theme that permeates the record is the frustration at being an artist with big dreams in a despondent world. “I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up / If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe.” Imagine it’s 2008, and you’re hearing this album for the very first time — on your mom’s iPod Touch or otherwise. You’re rooting for her.
With such an ethos, it stands to reason that her music appealed more to fellow artists than to critics or the general public (at least those who hadn’t already been hooked after hearing "Shove It" (ft. Spank Rock) in Gossip Girl, for a scene which I’ve been told was important). White has a myriad of collaborations under her belt, including Major Lazer, Diplo, Beastie Boys, Karen O, and more recently, Tyler, The Creator and Master Peace — not to mention a shoutout from Beyoncé and Madonna in a remix of “Break My Soul” (2022).
Craig Wetherby
Speaking of critics: the reception to Santigold at the time of its release was extremely mixed. Pitchfork gave it a dispassionate 7.1 in their review, calling the record at once “some of the year's freshest pop” and at times “annoyingly overthought.” The record’s polarizing nature led it to become a minor cult classic over time—essential listening for indie-heads—and named one of the top albums of the year by Spin Magazine.
In March of 2025, Santigold’s trip-hop hit “Disparate Youth" off of her sophomore record Master of My Make-Believe (2012) started going viral on TikTok. Some people are mad about this—the usual suspects: indie Millennials (and some of Gen Z, which I find gauche… we simply were not there). The idea that something is only cool as long as it’s fringe and unknown is useless pageantry. At worst, it’s a little selfish. When an artist you love gets rightfully reappraised over a decade down the line, does that not fill you with excitement that the world is finally going to experience what you did all those years ago? And, to appeal to annoying hipster within, you get to revel in the vindication that you were there first. The amount of tweens listening to “Disparate Youth” has no bearing on how cool Santigold is. Let the record show that Santigold will always be cool.
So, if you’ve never heard Santigold, spin it today. Just maybe keep it to yourself, lest you be slain by those who claim to have themselves penned the Declaration of Indie Sleaze in historic 2007.