Bell Littell Channels Old-School Romance with New Pop Americana Single “Mamacita”

If you’re not paying attention to Bell Littell yet, you’re sleeping. The Houston-born, LA-based singer-songwriter is carving out her own lane in Pop Americana, blending dreamy storytelling with grit and honesty. Her latest single, “Mamacita,” isn’t just a love song; it’s a scrapbook of sunshine-soaked memories, Chicano-inspired romance, and the kind of vintage daydream that feels like flipping through an old photo album or cruising in a lowrider under palm trees.

Bell’s journey started in secret, writing songs in her bedroom as a teenager before leveling up in her twenties, buying beats off YouTube and experimenting with alt-dream pop. That evolved into her indie-folk project Fay’s Forest, and now she’s five singles deep into her Pop Americana era. These days, she’s no longer just chasing dreams; she’s dragging them into reality, balancing LA open mics with activism, tarot pulls, and a mystic-meets-romantic energy that makes its way into every note she sings.

“Mamacita” is her love letter to a relationship that once felt like forever, stitched together from pieces of her past. She actually began writing the chorus when she was 16, long before the romance even existed, then finished it years later as if she had been manifesting the memory all along. Inspired by her Mexican-American roots and old-school Chicano imagery, the track radiates nostalgia without weighing itself down.

Producer Dalton Bryant played every instrument on the record, wrapping the song in golden-hour warmth that feels tailor-made for road trips, beach playlists, and nights that turn into stories you’ll retell for years.

One of Bell’s most cinematic inspirations came from watching an older couple in their seventies cruising through California in a black lowrider, gleaming in the sunset like time had paused just for them. That fleeting image shaped the soul of “Mamacita,” capturing the idea that love can stay glamorous, creative, and rebellious long after youth fades. Even if the relationship that sparked the song didn’t last, the magic of it still deserved to be preserved.

Her broader catalog proves she’s not just writing romance. “Sea to Shining Sea” aims at America’s systemic failures, “Evil Eye” works as a spell against negativity, “Dreamer” honors her family’s immigrant story, and “A Star” doubles as a tarot-infused prophecy. It’s all part of a universe Bell is building where mystics, dreamers, and everyday fighters find common ground.

Bell Littell makes enchanting music without being naive, political without being preachy, and romantic without slipping into cliché. “Mamacita” is proof that she’s more than just another indie hopeful; she’s an artist with the rare ability to turn her lived experiences into something timeless.

You've said "Mamacita" was partly written when you were 16 and then finished years later. Do you think younger you manifested that relationship,  or was it just fate playing games?  

When I was 16, I had an idea of what I wanted, and I found it in that relationship. I never felt like it was a game or a waste of time because we learned so much from each other, and we lived so much life together. I do think I used to have a habit of clinging to the idea of things rather than facing the reality of the situation.  

Your music often sits between dreamy escapism and the ugly realities of  America. How do you balance writing something people can dance to with saying something people actually need to hear?  

You can't have one without the other because life is a constant flow of hardship, success, sadness, and magic. People want to be inspired and uplifted, but they also want to be acknowledged and seen. I naturally lean towards the dreamy, whimsical side of song-making because songwriting started as my escape from reality. But by growing up, I found that songwriting could be used as a tool to confront reality rather than to escape it, and I think everyone needs a bit of both.  

You've been vocal about protesting ICE and systemic injustice. Do you see your role as an artist as equally about activism as it is about music, or do you separate the two?  

My role as an artist is to make music that means something. Whenever I put out a song about undocumented immigrants or marginalization in America, it's my responsibility to back that up with real action.  I don't separate the two; I care about music just as much as I care about justice, equality, and diversity.  

Pop Americana isn't exactly an easy genre lane. What makes you double  down on it instead of pivoting to something more  

"mainstream-safe"?  

I started calling my music Pop Americana because, while I lean mostly toward Pop,  there is a strong Americana influence. I love Pop music, I love how sparkly and fun it is. I grew up loving and listening to the Disney Princesses, Hannah  Montana, Selena Gomez, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, and Ariana Grande. I thought my sights were set; that's what I wanted to do. But once I started making pop music, I found myself drawn to an older style of popular music.

The sound of oldies playing in my grandma's kitchen, my stepdad's 80s  rock n' roll in the car, the 90s hip hop my mom would jam to, and the country,  banda, and tejano music that soundtracks everyday life in Texas. I started to really connect with an American sound as I found myself telling an American story, and so I decided not to limit myself because I don't believe mainstream safe equals mainstream success. I love artists like Bruce Springsteen and Lana  Del Rey because of how they both capture their own experiences as Americans.  I think I have a different perspective to offer, and that's why I've doubled down on it. 

You talk about writing for dreamers, mystics, and hustlers who still believe in angel numbers. What's the most significant sign you've ever received that told you to keep going?  

I had been making indie pop and folk music, but I still felt insecure and scared to say the words, "I want to be a successful music artist, and I want to  make Pop music." Because once I say it, I have to do it. Then there was this one night where I went to the Thorn and Moon Magickal Market in Houston. There were dozens of vendors selling handcrafted magical items, a spooky, sparkly burlesque show was underway, the moon hung high, and everyone was dressed up in velvet, leather, and lace, including the Tarot Reader. He had this beautiful, long, blue cloak with a long, blue beard, glitter-covered eyes, and a big smile.

He was a magical wizard named Merlyn. I sat down in the chair with a question I  was scared to ask. He pulled The Star and two other cards, and he told me something that has driven me forward ever since. He told me that he knew I had this big dream that felt far away and unattainable, but that it was mine if I buckled down, put in the hard work, and went for it.

It was so impactful because  it wasn't just a "the universe said all your dreams will come true at midnight if  you just wish on a star." It was a sign that if I committed fully, I could do it. I started writing and recording my first few Pop songs almost immediately, and a year later, I released my first Pop song, "a STAR."