This story is taken from the spring 2026 issue of Dazed, which is on sale internationally now. Order a copy of the magazine here.

I was in Iceland when I first saw Silvana Estrada perform live. It was an unlikely place for us both to be, given that she’s from Mexico and I’m based in London. Fortunately, Reykjavík’s annual Iceland Airwaves festival brought us together for an intimate gig, held inside the city’s art museum. Typically, Icelandic crowds have a reputation for rowdiness – they love a mosh pit and will take any excuse to thrash around – but on this occasion, they were stunned into silence. Now and then, you’d hear a discreet sniffle, as audience members gently sobbed, enthralled by Estrada’s performance. 

The 29-year-old artist is known for her soft, Laurel Canyon-inspired folk music, and is shaping up to be the young, Latin American answer to Joni Mitchell. She sings almost entirely in her native Spanish, delivering lyrics that meditate on grief, heartbreak and healing, which comes across, even if you don’t speak the language. 

Born and raised in Mexico’s Veracruz region, Estrada’s love of music stems from her parents, both artisans who make traditional string instruments. In 2022, she released her debut solo album, Marchita (Withered), earning her two nominations at that year’s Latin Grammy Awards and taking home the trophy for Best New Artist. Her success set the bar high for her sophomore record, Vendrán Suaves Lluvias (Soft Rains Will Come), which landed last October. Unlike her debut, this album was entirely self-produced after trialling four different producers, before deciding to do it herself.

Next week, she’s headed to London, bringing her sold-out tour to Islington’s Union Chapel. To mark the occasion, below, we catch up with the artist and discuss the pressure she feels to sing in English, how Spanish-speaking artists are infiltrating pop, and why she never pictured herself as a producer. 

What’s it like performing for crowds of non-Spanish speakers, in comparison to performing for your Spanish-speaking fans? 

Silvana Estrada: There’s something magical about performing for non-Spanish speakers, because it's proof that we’re all rooted in the same culture. People might not understand what I’m saying, but they still feel the connection. It moves me to tears. That’s the power of music. 

Were there any artists that did that for you growing up, when you may not have understood what they were singing about, but you still felt connected to them?

Silvana Estrada: A lot of them. English is a very new thing for me. I think the first thing that really moved me was Bulgarian choir music. My mum used to play it for me in the car and it was so moving. Then there was Billie Holiday. I didn’t know what she was talking about but she would break my heart everytime. 

I know Joni Mitchell is a big influence of yours too…

Silvana Estrada: When I listen to Blue, my own sadness turns into something beautiful. Her music is a mirror that allows you to fall in love with the world and with yourself again. She’s just there with you, she stays with you, she takes your hand and never leaves you. 

 In this industry, the image that we have in our heads of a producer, is always a man

Your second album came out towards the end of last year. What’s it been like watching the reactions to it? 

Silvana Estrada: It’s been so powerful. It took me three years, and I self-produced it. I felt like I was embarrassing myself, but at some point, I realised it was what I needed to do.

What was the biggest challenge of making this album? 

Silvana Estrada: Reconnecting with myself. When I started working on this album, my head was full of noise. My first album, Marchita, did well, so there was added pressure. It was like there was a competition between this album and my first one. This is also a very sensitive album for me. It’s so close to my heart and about things that I’ve been grieving for years. It has a bunch of pain on it. The hardest part was making the decision to produce it myself. It’s like I’m the [album’s] mother and I needed to be in control to protect the magic and the message of each song. 

Why were you hesitant to produce your own album? 

Silvana Estrada: I say this as a feminist: in this industry, the image that we immediately have in our heads of a producer, an arranger, an engineer, is always a man. If someone says “producer”, you don’t imagine a 29-year-old woman; you’ll think of a man. So in my mind, I automatically assumed that I couldn’t do that. 

Did you ever feel pressure to sing in English?

Silvana Estrada: There’s definitely pressure. I’m a little bit in that moment now, there’s this thing of like: “Silvana, if you really want to breakthrough you’re going to have to sing in English.” But I don’t feel the pressure, because I won’t receive it. It just passes through my mind. I love Spanish, I love my language, and I’m proud of it. Spanish is a beautiful language, and it embraces all these other countries – Mexico and all of Latin America. 

How do you feel about the way that Spanish and Latin American music has infiltrated mainstream pop more in recent years?  

Silvana Estrada: After reggaeton, everybody knows Bad Bunny. Everybody knows Rosalía. Reggaeton, as a rhythm, took over the world. And then came the language. I don’t make reggaeton, but I respect it, because it means that other genres and styles are becoming recognised. Latinos have always been migrants, and we should be very proud of ourselves because we bring so much joy to other countries. I feel very proud that Latino music is becoming universal. Bad Bunny is my hero, but I hope that with time we’ll see other genres make it mainstream, as well as reggaeton. I wanna see folk music, I wanna see mariachi – Latin America is a continent! 

You’ve always been very outspoken as an artist. Why is it important to you to stand up for your beliefs? 

Silvana Estrada: We, as artists, are creating in a geographic space at a certain time; we’re not floating into nothing. Art and music are always a mirror to our society, so it would be impossible for me to create beauty but then not fight for beauty. It would be insane to be an artist and not be fighting for the things you believe in. What we have is so precious, and it would be so silly to take it for granted. That would be deeply disrespectful. As a citizen of the world, I will always fight for what I believe, because if not, what’s the point?