Back To Kali

What happens when an artist tosses the pop-star rule book in favor of fierce authenticity? Kali Uchis is ready to find out

- Eve Barlow

Kali Uchis does not like to be the center of attention. Our original lunchtime table wasn’t in an open part of the restaurant, but she still preferred to move to a spot in the corner. Now nestled between two walls, she’s protected and able to keep out of the way. She excuses herself for being shy with a nymph-like laugh.

At the age of 25, Uchis is often unsure of herself, but her brutal determination keeps her moving forward. She’s hard to miss, dressed for the roller rink in blue denim and a vintage longsleeve T-shirt. Her lashes are extended, her lips are plumped and her nails form miniature Perspex daggers. Her hair is a wig.

“I just throw it on and then I’m done with hair!” she says.

The restaurant is in Studio City, which — like Uchis — is a bit of an outlier in Los Angeles. It’s not Valley Valley; it’s not Hollywood either. But if you know your chÅ«toro from your Åtoro, you know that Sushi Katsu-Ya is worth the trek. Uchis knows. She’s a pescatarian, and she orders a baked crab hand roll that she manages to wrap her mouth around without ruining a smidgen of lip gloss. She talks fast and loose. She drinks hot tea. She spills a lot of it too.