Introducing: Nadia Essah

Nadia Essah, the twenty-six-year-old Oslo-based songwriter and producer, returns with her highly anticipated new single You Can’t Hear Me — a soulful, cinematic track exploring the pain of feeling unseen and unheard in a relationship. Half Norwegian, half Moroccan, Nadia has spent the past two years sharpening her songwriting and studio skills following her debut EP Mood Swings in 2023. Her first two singles of 2025, A Step At A Time and Leave No Stone Unturned, paved the way for this deeply personal third release, out 14 November.

Led by piano and a jazzy, sparse drumbeat, You Can’t Hear Me allows space for Nadia’s soaring vocals to take center stage. The track swells in the chorus with layered harmonies, backing vocals, and swirling keyboards, all recorded with precision in the legendary East West Studios — where Beach Boys, The Mamas and Papas, and Whitney Houston made history. Remarkably, Nadia’s lead vocals were captured in just three takes, lending the performance a raw, “now or never” intensity.

1. “You Can’t Hear Me” feels both intimate and cinematic — especially knowing the lead vocals came from just three takes at EastWest Studios. What was going through your mind in that moment, recording in a space with so much history?

It really felt like a "it's now or never" moment. I had been really focused on my vocal abilities that semester and was very tuned in on what I needed to do in terms of vocal prep, breath work and focus in order to be able to perform at the top of my game for these 15 minutes or so. It was so scary and thrilling at the same time. I spent the last year at my uni (the Norwegian academy of music) discussing different ways to "get in the zone" while performing, and I think that's just it, I was performing and not just recording like I usually would.

2. You’ve said the song is about not being seen or valued in a relationship, but also hinted your co-writer might see it differently. Do you enjoy that kind of emotional ambiguity in songwriting — where two people can bring different truths to the same lyric?

This is a really great question. I do find it very enjoyable that two people can interpret lyrics and meaning in completely different ways. I guess you could say that about most things though, how it was intended versus how it was written. It's up to the listener/reader, what cultural heritage they have, what references and what state of mind they're in while listening or reading something. I find it quite beautiful. I have lots of songs that I have a very strong emotional attachment to and that I strongly associate different moments or places to and I can assure you that the writer didn't intend while writing it.

3. You mentioned stepping into the producer’s role took courage, especially in a legendary setting surrounded by big-name engineers. How has taking more control of the production side changed your sound and confidence as an artist?

It was very surreal. I had known I was going there for about four months so I had some time to prepare, like I said in the first question, it felt like I had been preparing my whole life. It sounds very dramatic, but you don't have time to freak out or be insecure about it. If you do, you really lose out. I took a few minutes where I was really in my head about it, sitting beside 4 or 5 old men (who were really nice and took me super seriously) trying to voice my opinion while recording my fellow musicians. I originally started producing after having countless sessions over the course of multiple years of not being heard or taken seriously in sessions as an artist. I have definitely grown a ton in the past 10 years, thankfully. It's very important to trust your gut and to trust your opinion, after all it was going to be my song, so if I didn't say anything I wouldn't be happy with the result.

4. Over the past two years you’ve moved toward a more organic, “out of the box” process — real instruments, slower writing, more storytelling. What’s been the most liberating part of that shift for you?

Embracing my own limitations and little happy accidents. There is so much beauty in imperfection, really cliché I know, but it's true. I find it very liberating to have clear limits and framework to work within, if that makes sense? For example I can only play so fast on a synth, so that's what's on the record or I have effect pedals that don't always do what I want them to but that leads me to discover new sounds or rhythms. It's quite nice to focus on learning and rediscovering the gear that I already have and can tweak and touch instead of always looking for the next thing.

5. You’ve spoken movingly about how losing your father changed your perspective and deepened your music. Has that loss reshaped what you want to say — or how you measure success — as you move into this next chapter?

Thank you for that. It really has, in so many ways. I think that I look for deeper connections in general, with my friends and family but also my relationship with the music I make. It needs to mean something more than being a cool beat or an impressive vocal run. With that said, I think the two truths can co-exist, but most parts of it need to have a more profound meaning to say something other than being heartbroken over some guy. The biggest success I have had this past year or so is that I found my way back to the music I always should have been making. Genre wise it's very close to where I started out with listening to Alicia Keys, D'angelo and Adele's first record. It's a lot more honest musically and very much more grown sounding. It feels really good to be in the place I am right now and I am very excited for what's to come.