When Ángela Aguilar began working on her new album, Nadie Se Va Como Llegó, she never imagined it would serve as a springboard for one of the most transformative stages of her musical career.
Translating to "Nobody Leaves as They Arrived," Nadie Se Va Como Llegó finds Aguilar exploring her coming-of-age identity as a woman, embracing one of the most fulfilling chapters of her personal life that included marriage (she wed Mexican star Christian Nodal in July 2024) and newfound self-confidence. It also serves as an effort of independence and a declaration of her own artistry.
Daughter of mariachi legend Pepe Aguilar and granddaughter of ranchera and Golden Age cinema icons Antonio Aguilar and Flor Silvestre, Ángela has been performing and releasing music since she was a child. Though she has become one of the most widely recognized young representatives of Música Mexicana, her reputation — and her Mariachi sound — have long been tied to her family's legacy. Nadie Se Va Como Llegó was her chance to truly show who she wants to be.
"It's a new path," Aguilar, a GRAMMY nominee and four-time Latin GRAMMY nominee, tells GRAMMY.com. "People in my circle always doubted me, precisely because my father is a great charro, as is my brother, my grandfather, and my grandmother, goes without saying. So, for me, it was something I had to fight hard for… For me, [this album was] about searching to find my sound."
In line with Aguilar's mission, Nadie Se Va Como Llegó marks her debut as executive producer — a role held by her father on all her previous releases. Taking creative and sonic control, the singer daringly modernizes the deep tradition of her Mariachi roots by fusing it with tumbado sounds, which blend traditional rhythms with urban elements, and other genres that unite all of Latin America, such as cumbia, vallenato and pop.
Aguilar also tapped new collaborators for the project, recruiting close friends — most of whom were women — who helped bring her vision to life. She was heavily involved in all aspects, from song selection to the album's artwork, which further contributed to the personal and professional growth that she'll undoubtedly carry throughout her career. "This new phase in my life has given me an entirely new appreciation for music," she says.
Before Nadie Se Va Como Llegó arrived on May 28, Aguilar spoke with GRAMMY.com about the inspiration behind the album, some Easter eggs within the production, and how the entire process contributed to "complete liberation."
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
You began your career young, releasing your first album when you were 8. How has your journey evolved since then?
I've always lived my childhood, adolescence and now, the beginning of my adult life, in the public eye. Growing up that way is very different from how most people grew up. All your mistakes are there for everyone to see. That has helped me develop pretty thick skin and learn to accept that nothing in this life lasts forever — neither the good nor the bad.
During my first tour, my dad had a notebook where he noted all my mistakes in the concert — when I ran out of breath while dancing, when the mariachi started before I did, and when I came in late. On the second tour, he re-recorded them, but the list was a little shorter. On the third tour, he did the same, but it was even smaller.
My dad's toughness and critical nature helped me tremendously to grow and evolve with music. Before, I saw [music] as a game. When I went on tour with my dad at 4 or 5 years old, my friends were the mariachi members, and my girlfriends were the backup singers. Then I grew up and never realized I was performing in concerts. Even at 15, I still thought it was a game.
And now, after producing everything, I have developed a respect for it. I greatly admire my dad and many people who do this. I acknowledge that I lived with a tremendous privilege — absurdly great — believing this was easy. But now, I increasingly realize the effort it takes to be a part of this genre. My evolution, beyond the musical aspects, where I learned to modulate better, is in understanding that this is much more difficult and much bigger than that.
As you mentioned, the album marks your debut as an executive producer. How was it taking the reins this way, and what lessons did you learn?
There were so many, honestly. It was one of the most challenging projects I've done because I was stepping into a new role. I truly thought making an album was just about choosing songs, showing up at the studio with everything perfectly prepared, and having my father's company — he would even help me sing the songs, telling me, "Ángela, sing it like this," and I'd repeat after him. Suddenly, I found myself in this new world, and thanks to this experience, I appreciate my father's work and this new art form that involves being immersed in the arrangements and everything.
Who was the first person to listen to the entire Nadie Se Va Como Llegó album?
My dad. And he was surprised because I think he thought it would be awful. [Laughs.] Everything I know, I learned from him, 100 percent. Nothing I do isn't backed by something my dad taught me. My cousin Virgilio, his wife Nayeli, my mom, and my dad were in his recording studio in Mexico City, and we played the whole album for them.
I remember getting goosebumps — one of those experiences where you don't know whether to throw up, laugh or smile. I was super nervous, mainly because this album also has a more serious connotation. The lyrics and songs are a bit more mature. I was a little afraid of what he would think.
It's essential to have people who tell us what we don't want to hear. Is your dad that person in your career?
[It's] my entire family, including the newest part of my family, my husband. If I can tell you something, it's that nobody ever stays quiet. I had about 14 or 15 songs on this album, and my dad told me, "No, I don't like these two." And I removed them without hesitation because I immensely trust his artistic vision.
My mom has been very involved in my career since I started singing. She helped me with costumes and taught me many things. My mom formed something important for me in this album, because I reached a point where no one could lift me except my mom. She would come to chat with me here at home, and she inspired me so much with her words and how much she believed in me, even when I didn't.
She pushed me forward through her example because she's a hardworking, versatile woman. She's the CEO of the company that manages me, Machín Records, and she's been involved not only in my releases but also my dad's and my brother's. So, I couldn't let her down.
The album title is powerful. Do you remember when you decided Nadie Se Va Como Llegó would be the album's name?
This album had two potential names that would capture the songs, the era and the stage of life I'm in: Nadie Se Va Como Llegó and Lágrimas en mi Garganta. We weren't sure which way to go, but I felt that "Lágrimas en mi Garganta," although one of the album's most meaningful songs, was like a bandage for my wounds; it had a very sad connotation [as it translates to "tears in my throat"]. So, I preferred a more universal title.
At this new stage in my life, Nadie Se Va Como Llegó fits me perfectly. [The album and name that translates into] "Nobody leaves as they arrived" — things can go well or poorly, and you might be learning, but the point is that you keep moving forward, you keep evolving. And that's exactly what this album is.
You've described the album as an artistic and personal rebirth. What drove you to break the expectations that some people might have had about Angela's next work?
My goodness! My work with [2024's] Bolero cost me so many years of my life. It was difficult for me to interpret those great songs, work with so many artists, and go to Cuba for a month to record. I thought, what should I do next? And it just started happening.
My dad, who has always been my producer — and is now releasing many songs himself — at first, I wanted to help him with this new album. I started listening to one song and reached out to my songwriter friends.
One of the most significant aspects of this album for me is that most of the songs were written by women, and beyond that, by my friends. It was terrific to work with them. Other amazing artists, like Omar Robles and Pablo Preciado, began sending me songs, and it all started from nothing. I was in Paris when I began making this album almost a year ago, and it came together gradually.
I work with a man I call Willy Wonka [William Moytez Fuentez], who's from Sinaloa and is a musical genius. I don't know how to write music, but I do know what I want, so I'd pick up my phone and say, "I want the trumpet to go like this." Somehow, the poor guy managed to translate that. He managed to capture that feeling and turn my voice notes into music.
It was cool because it was a project we did remotely. I remember working on it while getting off planes, boarding planes and on the bus, gradually figuring out how I wanted to release the product. I didn't even know I was making an album at first.
What did you discover from working with the album's collaborators, and how do you think they enriched the project?
I work best where I feel calm, at peace and comfortable. And what could be more comfortable than being with friends? It wasn't about "they have to be women." I have nothing against men, and this album has many great male songwriters. But as a woman in the industry, I'd like to give more opportunities to talented women, mainly because mariachi is a very solitary genre for women — it's a genre where being a woman who sings or writes isn't as accepted.
While writing songs for my album, I brought in a friend named Amanda Coronel, a mega-composer. My husband also had a songwriting camp for his album and brought about 15 men. They were all writing songs together. Amanda and I were the only women there.
That was strange; I even felt odd because the environment is very different when it's completely masculine. Ale Zeguer, for example, is a composer who wrote one of my first hits withJesse & Joy ["Ella Que Te Dio"]. I sent her a text asking what she was up to, and after half an hour of gossip, I asked if she had any songs we could work on.
How was the process of building the songs? Did you give them the general idea, and they developed the theme?
It was a different process for each composer. For example, Omar Robles knows my whole story, and I told him, "You're best at love songs, but I don't want a love song that's too cheesy — I want it to be honest and real for me." That's where "El Equivocado" came from, because with everything going on, you realize that love isn't just one facet or layer — it has many and expands in many directions, and maybe for some people it's not perfect, but for you it is.
There's one song where I didn't compose anything. Still, I told my friend Amanda [Coronel] that I needed an empowering song for women, a real ranchera, like listening to [Vicente Fernandez's] "Volver, Volver," two-quarter time. I wanted the music to be traditional Mexican. And suddenly, I think it was Amanda and Ale who worked together and wrote this awesome phrase: "jamás subestimes a una mujer herida" [which translates into English as "never underestimate a wounded woman"]. I believe [the song] could become a new anthem for us. There are many stories like this. Each song is a story.
You incorporate tumbado, cumbia, and pop in the album, with all these sounds anchored in your mariachi roots. How is the concept of transformation reflected in the musical evolution of this project?
I see each song as a world; some songs need a specific sound. For example, "Corazón de Piedra" required a harder, stronger feeling, a kind of mariachi tumbado, which I did — staying true to who I am while recognizing that certain songs require specific instruments or melodic changes.
This album is versatile. It is always backed by mariachi, which made me fall in love with music. Still, it also incorporates other genres — I have one [song] that's a vallenato, a cumbia and another that's a tumbado. For me, it's about searching to find my sound.
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Were there any musical references you considered for all the ideas that came to you for the songs?
I wanted "Lágrimas En Mi Garganta" to sound like the mariachi version of a James Bond song. One reference was Juan Gabriel's "Así Fue" version from Bellas Artes. One of the ideas was having those trumpets that give you goosebumps.
I'm also watching a Colombian soap opera called "Café con Aroma de Mujer," so I said, "Well, I'll do a vallenato." I wanted to strike a balance between traditional Mexican music and a vallenato.
Also, for "Miénteme Bonito," I wanted to make it a kind of mariachi, like my dad's "Más Alto Que Las Águilas," which inspired the musical arrangement. I wanted it to feel like you were flying, like you're listening to that music, and it could transport you.
Which song is the most representative of what you were hoping to achieve with Nadie Se Va Como Llegó?
Each song represents a stage I lived through or something I experienced. "Libre Corazón," written by Edgar Barrera, is a song that I like and was challenging. That song is cool because it involves mariachi differently and talks about slightly stronger themes. I also love those songs where you can dance and cry simultaneously, and I think that's one of them.
Are there any hidden treasures on the album that you want to reveal?
I'm very honest with my voice, so, for example, in "El Equivocado," there's a part where I'm laughing, and that made it into the album. That happened because while I was recording, my engineer told me, "Ángela, you need to watch videos and things that inspire you for this song." I saw a video of [husband] Christian [Nodal] eating four gorditas [Mexican corn cakes] with his mouth full, so I started laughing.
I love leaving Easter eggs in my videos. The first shot in "Nadie Se Va Como Llegó" is a tequila bottle that says "El Equivocado Cristalino" [one of the album singles]. The coasters show the album's release date underneath.
There are also many elements — for example, each song is a piece of art, and my entire back is covered with these songs because I feel they're already part of me. Each little song represents an image, and those images are used in the videos. In "Corazón de Piedra," I incorporate many butterfly elements, and the butterflies will appear later in another song that will connect everything. If you look for them, you'll find them.
Speaking of "Corazón de Piedra," how was the composition and music video creation process for that song? It's shaping up to be a new heartbreak anthem.
I'm in a beautiful stage of my life right now — I'm very much in love and happy — but I always end up writing heartbreak songs. That song was written by a friend named Brian Sandoval. The video was very important to me because all my previous videos have been super elaborate, but I wanted something simple and relaxed for this album.
I enjoy visiting [Mexican restaurant/karaoke concept called] Sala de Despecho. I wanted that kind of atmosphere in the video — sitting with my friends, chatting, joking, laughing, and singing. And I also wanted to incorporate something very important to me: being a horsewoman.
This album is about personal growth and what has helped me most in my life, beyond my career, focusing on being a horsewoman. People in my circle always doubted me, precisely because my father is a great charro, as is my brother, my grandfather, and my grandmother, goes without saying. So, for me, it was something I had to fight hard for. And with "Corazón de Piedra," I wanted to show exactly that — my complete liberation, on my horse, just the two of us, in a forest. Because that's what peace feels like to me.
We've seen you performing on horseback on the Jaripeo Sin Fronteras tours with your father. What has your horse taught you that you've carried as a life lesson, and professionally?
Horses are good for therapy because they're so warm. Their heartbeat helps children with Down syndrome or more severe forms of autism calm down when they hold them because they feel the heart, which gives rhythm to their lives. Horses have taught me to keep moving forward and maintain rhythm. I prefer to wait and take a firm step rather than rush ahead, fall and stumble.
The horse has also taught me to rely heavily on my support system. I know that when I'm on my horse, his life depends on me, and my life depends on him. So, we have to have this connection, and I have to trust that he'll do what he needs to do, and he trusts that I'll take care of and protect him.
I relate horses to my family — I know my family will always be there for me, and I'll be there for them, and we'll ride together. Truly, for me, getting on a horse and performing a song makes me feel so secure that I'd prefer a thousand times to be on Trojan, the black horse you see in the video, than on foot.
The album demonstrates significant emotional transparency and maturity. Did you experience any emotional catharsis during the recording process?
Definitely. I can't sing a song that doesn't come from the heart, and that's exactly what people need — to share that with them so I can feel a little less alone. Music is something that unites us.
I've been a singer since I was 7 and recorded my first album at 8. Music is the only way I can express myself and free myself. Each song has its world, and it is beautiful to share that same world with fans.
You serve as a reference point for young women in Mexican music. What positive changes have you observed in the industry for women since you began your career?
When I started, and my early interviews won't let me lie, I always said I wanted young people to get into Música Mexicana, I wanted us young people to be given space to sing this music. And suddenly, it became fashionable to sing Música Mexicana in all its forms, not just mariachi. That was very significant because I believe it's through representation that we see equality.
In this field, women like my cousin, Majo Aguilar, and Lupita Infante, Yahritza y su Esencia, represent this new generation of Mexican female artists. Seeing them makes me proud to have been involved in this genre from a young age. It's a male-dominated genre, and I have seen changes.
I remember in my first interviews, and I don't know if it was because of my age or gender, the questions were always like, "What are you going to wear?" or "Does your dad let you wear makeup?" And then they'd turn to my brother, who was 12, and ask him, "Hey Leonardo, who's your favorite artist?" or "What songs do you like to sing the most?" That was awful because I felt like everything involving me was very superficial, while everything involving him was artistic.
I'll also be frank with you — it's incredible to people, like they can't believe it when women do things independently. For me, it's very normal. People always tell me, "Oh, her sound changed because now Christian [Nodal] is producing for her." And no, I changed my sound because I want to change my sound.
I think we have evolved as a genre, but — and I'm going to be highly criticized for saying this — the fact that they say "Best Female Regional Album" seems ridiculous. I find it unbearable, honestly, because it's music, and music has no gender, no sexuality — it's music, it's expression.
Considering your family's legacy and how long you've been doing music yourself, do you ever see yourself doing something else?
I have two dreams. I want to be like my grandmother — one of my biggest dreams is to travel the world with the love of my life, sing and represent my country, and have my family involved. But I also have another big dream to move with my horses to Zacatecas, to my ranch. I was thinking of opening an animal foundation.
I still have the energy to stay in this industry, but it isn't easy and takes a toll on your mental health and peace. So, we'll see how much longer I can hold on. Hopefully, it'll be a lifetime, but if not, I'll dedicate myself to what I love most: my family and my animals.