Dani Umpi: 20 years of queer and pop art from the Río de la Plata region
Dani Umpi—writer, visual artist, and singer—revisits Perfecto, his first album. Twenty years after his musical breakthrough, he celebrates between the two shores and looks, as always, to the future.

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“There’s no nostalgia in your words. You only speak of the future to come,” sings Dani Umpi in his song “No hay cómplices” (There Are No Accomplices). It’s one of the ten tracks on Perfecto, his debut album, which celebrates its 20th anniversary this year . A writer, visual artist, and singer , Dani doesn’t talk about the future; he always was, is, and always will be that horizon.
“At first, I felt I had to define myself by one discipline. Not anymore. I have a certain routine where I move forward and backward with projects. I’ve learned to delegate, to work as a team, to restart. Typical things for a grown man,” says this Scorpio who just turned 51. “I have something very typical of my age and of a mid-career artist: evaluation,” he says. He’s preparing an exhibition he’ll call Collected Works. “I don’t want to call it a retrospective because it sounds too much like I’m finished.” He’s editing a “very long” novel and has started working on a new album.
The perfect jump
It's 2005, and Umpi is pivoting between Argentina and Uruguay, promoting his newly released album, Perfecto. He's performing in barbershops and nightclubs where young people dance to his music, celebrate with him, and admire him. It's part of the foundational years of the return of glamorous pop from the Río de la Plata region. The scene was experiencing the pop shock of Miranda!'s Es Mentira (2002) and flirting with the darker sounds of Adicta (2003). The arrival of this Uruguayan miracle was the culmination of the rebellion, audacity, and falsetto that had been missing.
Two decades later, the artist reflects on his iconic status. “I can’t believe it because I don’t see myself that way. And on the other hand, I think, yeah, it’s true. There are very few gay men in music, maybe that’s it. I have to get on my own bandwagon and get on board with everything .” His creative process has always had a strong personal stamp, where the collective is present. In that “Umpimóvil” (Umpimobile), collaborations are fundamental. Dani can always be seen accompanying and celebrating young people. That’s why there’s an act of justice, “there’s a curatorial kind of rescue, also very emotional. So, my work, which was previously so unframed, begins to find its natural context.”
His singing career came as a surprise. He had been more focused on writing and visual arts. At one point, he tackled an English version of an album by Uruguayan artist Jaime Roos and began creating his own music. He remembers it as “something very impulsive.” But this stage wasn't for either Dani or Umpi: “I had to be Dani Umpi in the third person, like a drag queen, an entity. So I set out to make a pop album in my own style.”
The adventure began with producer Daniel Anselmi and Gabriel Turielle's Contrapedal label, his manager for several years. On this journey of revisiting sounds, everything felt very fresh. Returning to the original tracks, he was captivated: "On the first take, I remembered everything, without a single mistake; it came out very spontaneously." And while this Scorpio season celebrates Umpi and his album, the celebration is shared: since October, shows have been taking place from coast to coast to revisit it. He arrives in Buenos Aires with two shows on November 19th at La Tangente .
Long live the new generation
Umpi's audience is incredibly diverse thanks to his multifaceted talents. His books attract passionate fans drawn to their novelistic style. 'Still Single,' 'I Only Love You as a Friend,' 'A Little Bit of a Jerk,' and the film adaptation 'Miss Tacuarembó' exude a sense of CRT television, effeminate 90s afternoons, and the dream of "superstardom" that every small-town girl shares. As a visual artist, the Buenos Aires Museum of Modern Art described him as possessing an "accumulative exuberance and chromatic lust." In music, his first solo album was followed by several more that can be described as the antihero's danceable journey.
When asked what advice he would give to those who want to dedicate themselves to art, he's direct: "Just go for it and do whatever comes to mind first, that's important." Dani suggests taking that leap, which brings relief. In that process, you meet new people, form collaborations, gain references, learn, and teach, he says. "The other piece of advice is to show your work. Learn to accept criticism," he adds.
The pandemic marked a turning point in his urban life, drawing him closer to his boyfriend, the artist Goro Gorocher, "he's a beach boy." Back in Maldonado, Uruguay, Umpi spends his days between a nomadic lifestyle, producing artwork, and teaching online at a rural school. "I'm planning albums, podcasts, collaborations, and DJing at parties. I'm connecting more with artists and musicians; they're taking me more seriously, and I'm more relaxed too. I'm very grateful and more connected to the music scene, especially the Uruguayan one, which I've always complained about."
That's Umpi. Always on the move, his pincers on something but his sting aimed at the beyond. From that "wandering and intuitive" whirlwind of dreadlocks and dresses, he believes it was a certain methodology that helped him keep his work contained. "The main thing is to put everything in bags, label them with your name and the date, and not make works that won't fit in a taxi."
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