Javiera Electra doesn’t just write songs. She writes universes. With the theatricality of a Greek tragedy and the tenderness of a street serenade, the Chilean artist—born Electra Hernández—has emerged as one of Latin America’s most compelling queer voices. Her upcoming debut album Heliade isn’t just music. It’s an act of transmutation. “Since I was born, I’ve had this driving force toward art and music,” Javiera told CREMA in an interview conducted in Spanish. She’s 27 now, but her story began over a decade ago with a government-issued laptop and an instinct to create. That laptop, won through a Michelle Bachelet-era program for working-class kids with average grades, became her portal. The first thing she searched? How to make music.
1Javiera grew up between the rural towns of Curicó, Rengo, and San Fernando, in Chile’s agricultural heartland. Her family worked in fruit and vegetable markets. And the soundtrack of her upbringing? Cueca, cumbia, rancheras, corridos, and boleros.
“There’s something deeply connected between pain, alcohol, and the broken heart,” she said, reflecting on the popularity of these genres in Chile. She heard that music everywhere growing up—and it would later leak into her own songwriting. “That’s the bridge between Chileans and Mexicans, I think.”
She started producing on her own, but when her laptop was stolen, she turned to the guitar. What came out of her naturally? Cueca rhythms, Andean melodies, and protest music. Her family wasn’t just musical—they were political. “My dad was a socialist. My grandfather was a communist. I inherited that cultural legacy through music.”
2Before the festivals and the accolades, Javiera was performing in the Santiago metro with stilettos and nothing but her voice.
“I sang a cappella, using my heels for percussion. Just me, my voice, and people watching.” Sometimes she brought her guitar. Other days, she played instrumental tracks through a speaker. But it was always a show. And people noticed. “Eventually, people would recognize me. They’d say, ‘Why didn’t you sing today?’ or ‘I missed the performance you did last week.’”
According to Javiera, her career didn’t launch with a big break—it snowballed from the street. From DIY venues in Valparaíso to the massive Rec Festival in Chile (where she shared a stage with Los Bunkers and Usted Señalemelo), she earned her audience one set at a time. It was at Valdivia’s Fluvial Festival where Rolling Stone’s Richard Villegas spotted her.
When asked about her voice—powerful, textured, vulnerable—Javiera credits both nature and years of training. But she also points to her gender transition. “My voice has changed. Transitioning altered my anatomy and the way I express myself vocally,” she explained. Still, she doesn’t center her identity in her artistry. “It’s part of me, but it doesn’t define everything. As long as it’s not the whole story, I’m fine talking about it.” What matters more to her is how her voice connects. During the interview, she laughed when told her single didn’t sound overproduced. “It’s about filling spaces with words,” she explained.
3Her new single, out June 13, is titled “El tiempo y la distancia entregan mucho más de lo que yo podría.” It’s airy, melancholic, and philosophical.
“Sometimes we try to fill space with words or actions, but distance and time are sometimes the only things that bring clarity,” she said.
So why lead with this track? Javiera calls it a gift. “There are fans who have followed me for years. They know many of the album’s songs already. But this one—they haven’t heard. It’s different. It’s softer, more pop, more rock. A new side of me.”
The album Heliade is named after the Heliades, daughters of the Greek sun god Helios. In the myth, their brother dies piloting the sun chariot. The sisters cry for months beside a river, until Zeus transforms them into trees to ease their pain.
The imagery was too powerful for Javiera to ignore.
She’s incorporating the myth into the album art—a painting of herself mid-transformation, caught between human and tree. “I have a song called Ámbar, another called Lágrima del sol. It all ties together.”
The artwork is still in progress, but she showed us a draft. It evokes Pink Floyd, but with a Chilean twist: grief turned into amber, the self rooted in myth.
4Javiera heads to Mexico at the end of June, with performances and press dates already on the calendar. She’ll release another single in July—a bolero this time—before dropping the full Heliade album in August.
What does she want listeners to feel?
“I just want them to take care of the universe I’m giving them.”
Interview conducted by Yamily Habib in June 2025. All quotes translated from Spanish.
