HANNAN HEREDIA doesn’t make background music — hers burns, unsettles, makes you dance, and then leaves you crying in the club bathroom. NAGORI, her debut album, is a breakup turned into beats, glitches, tears, and gasoline. Dirty trap, emotional reggaetón, and pop that bleeds. With influences such as Rosalía, Dominic Fike, Charli XCX, and many others, and a post-kitsch aesthetic, HANNAN HEREDIA doesn’t just write songs — she builds universes… and she doesn’t ask for permission. She’s many things — artist, producer, singer, pianist, theoretical physics graduate — but never lukewarm. With NAGORI, she arrives to shatter expectations of what urban pop can be.
The record draws from her recent life experiences: two years in Turin, two months in the Bahamas, countless trips around the world with no return ticket, and a lost love. There’s city, exile, desire, and nostalgia. With references like Ralphie Choo, Guitarricadelafuente, and Xiyo, Hannan builds her own sonic language: a raw, beautiful, hyperaesthetic mix that sounds like the future — like an afterparty, like an intimate diary soaked in autotune. But her universe goes beyond music: fanzine, motel-style merch, and an aesthetic that draws from naturalism and nostalgia. Hers isn’t just a project — it’s a manifesto. HANNAN HEREDIA isn’t here to please. She’s here to be.
HANNAN HEREDIA doesn’t make background music — hers burns, unsettles, makes you dance, and then leaves you crying in the club bathroom. NAGORI, her debut album, is a breakup turned into beats, glitches, tears, and gasoline. Dirty trap, emotional reggaetón, and pop that bleeds. With influences such as Rosalía, Dominic Fike, Charli XCX, and many others, and a post-kitsch aesthetic, HANNAN HEREDIA doesn’t just write songs — she builds universes… and she doesn’t ask for permission. She’s many things — artist, producer, singer, pianist, theoretical physics graduate — but never lukewarm. With NAGORI, she arrives to shatter expectations of what urban pop can be.
The record draws from her recent life experiences: two years in Turin, two months in the Bahamas, countless trips around the world with no return ticket, and a lost love. There’s city, exile, desire, and nostalgia. With references like Ralphie Choo, Guitarricadelafuente, and Xiyo, Hannan builds her own sonic language: a raw, beautiful, hyperaesthetic mix that sounds like the future — like an afterparty, like an intimate diary soaked in autotune. But her universe goes beyond music: fanzine, motel-style merch, and an aesthetic that draws from naturalism and nostalgia. Hers isn’t just a project — it’s a manifesto. HANNAN HEREDIA isn’t here to please. She’s here to be.