Nikki Sorrentino

Nikki grew up in the passenger seat of her dad's car, windows down, Motown blasting through New York streets. She'd mimic every run, every belt, every ache in those records until she could feel the soul beneath the sound. At 13, she stood on the Apollo Theatre stage and understood what it meant to bare yourself in front of an audience. Those divas she studied didn't just sing. They bled. They demanded you feel something. Years later, Nikki's still chasing that rawness. Her music lives in the space between obsession and devotion, where love gets ugly and thoughts spiral into places you don't say out loud. She blends pop, soul, and retro nostalgia with the kind of theatricality that won't play small. These aren't polished confessions. They're the thoughts you have at 3am when feminine rage takes over and you picture burning it all down. Rooted in instinct and unapologetic about taking up space, Nikki makes music for women who've been called too much. Too loud. Too emotional. She's all of it.