Anie Delgado Embraces the Beautiful Chaos of Love on New EP 'hopeless'

Photographer: Elias Posada / Creative Director Rosemary Delgado

Cuban-American pop artist Anie Delgado has never shied away from putting her heart on the line, but with her new EP, hopeless, she raises the stakes higher than ever. Vulnerability, resilience, and bold self-expression collide in a collection of songs that dives headfirst into the paradox of being a hopeless romantic, the beauty, the pain, the madness, and the inevitable rebirth that comes from it all.

From the opening track to the closing refrain, hopeless is more than just an EP; it’s a cinematic diary. Delgado doesn’t play it safe. Instead, she lets the listener ride shotgun through love’s most intoxicating highs and its most destructive lows, making hopeless a record that feels deeply personal while resonating universally with anyone who’s dared to love recklessly.

Across its five tracks, hopeless paints love as both savior and saboteur. Delgado digs into the mania of falling too fast, the seductive pull of toxic dynamics, and the bittersweet reality that even in heartbreak, there’s meaning worth holding onto. She isn’t trying to tie it all up with a neat bow. Instead, she leans into the chaos, asking a simple but piercing question: Is it worth it? Her answer is a resounding yes, even if it hurts.

The EP kicks off with “99¢ Jesus,” a razor-sharp anthem that calls out hypocrisy and dismantles the performative virtue of men who weaponize morality. Produced by Gary Dillon and co-written with George Gleeson, the track blends satire with fury and sets the tone for Delgado’s fearless honesty.

Immediately after, she pivots with “1111,” a glowing love letter to her now-husband that celebrates the rare, grounding force of true love. Written solely by Delgado and brought to life by producers Adrian Isias, Michael “Trash Boy” Giovenco, and Pablo Martinez, the track is dreamy yet powerful, highlighting the balance of tenderness and passion at the core of real connection.

In “down with you,” she leans into her theater roots, creating a cinematic Bonnie-and-Clyde dynamic that dramatizes the toxicity of staying when you know you should leave. Written by Delgado and produced again by Isias, Giovenco, and Martinez, the result is both seductive and haunting, a mirror to anyone who’s found themselves addicted to chaos.

Meanwhile, “Mátame” (her first Spanish-language track) plunges into her darkest territory yet, exploring the suffocating despair of being trapped in a damaging relationship. Co-written with Jose Sanchez and produced by Sanchez as well, the track transforms despair into empowerment, showing how destruction often clears the path for rebirth.

Finally, the title track “hopeless” ties everything together with cyclical poignancy. Written by Delgado and produced by Isias, Giovenco, and Martinez, it captures the messy truth of romance: that we fall into familiar patterns knowing full well they might break us, but the act of falling itself is what makes us human.

Sonically, hopeless is lush, layered, and deliberately eclectic. Delgado fuses pop, dance, and global influences, leaning into rich textures and infectious hooks without sacrificing lyrical intimacy. Her voice, raw, piercing, and unguarded, cuts through every track, grounding the whirlwind production with an honesty that can’t be faked.

With hopeless, Delgado proves she’s not just writing songs, she’s building narratives. Every track functions as both a standalone confession and part of a bigger story. It’s the kind of record that doesn’t just ask to be listened to; it demands to be felt.

What makes Delgado stand out in a crowded pop landscape is her refusal to sanitize love. She doesn’t dress it up as perfect or safe; she shows it for what it is, chaotic, painful, euphoric, and transformative. In doing so, she gives listeners permission to embrace their own messy truths.

For anyone who’s ever asked themselves why they keep going back to love despite the scars, hopeless is both the question and the answer. It’s an EP that celebrates the risk of vulnerability, the resilience of the heart, and the undeniable fact that love, flawed and fragile as it is, will always be worth it.

Hopeless is pulled straight from your diary. How do you navigate being so personal while still writing for an audience? I think what’s most personal is often what’s most universal. Although I go into detail in many of my songs on the project, I think the emotion I’m conveying is something many people can relate to. For example, the feeling of lying next to a stranger you know is about to wreck your life. “99¢ Jesus” is a powerful opener. What inspired its sharp critique of the male gaze? Men. lol. In all seriousness, a year or two ago, I was going through some deconstruction. I grew up very catholic in a small, conservative town where men were really centered. In my deconstruction, I realized that I grew up experiencing comp het (I’m bi) because of how much I was conditioned to center men. The time period during which I grew to decenter men was eye-opening and cathartic. I’ve never felt more like myself. Even in spaces that are less conservative and religious, like the music industry in LA, I felt like I was constantly catering to the male gaze. When I stopped, I felt empowered. I wanted to bottle that feeling into a song. “Mátame” is your first Spanish release. How did writing in Spanish change your vulnerability as a songwriter? Mátame means kill me in Spanish. I’ve always known that I have a little bit of a dark, nihilistic, twisted perspective, but I feel like I never fully have lived that authentically in my songwriting for fear of coming across as intense. I’m Cuban American, and I grew up speaking Spanglish and being a no sabo kid, so Spanish is my second language. I feel like writing in Spanish allowed me to be really vulnerable and instinctual about my songwriting. I wasn’t searching for the perfect, complicated thing to say. I just said how I felt. Sometimes you go through a breakup so bad you wonder how you will wake up and exist in the world again, and Mátame is me working through that feeling.  You’ve described the EP as cyclical. Why was it important to end with “Hopeless” rather than a more resolved track? It was important to me to make the project feel cyclical, the way dating as a hopeless romantic feels. The project starts in a place where you’re pessimistic about dating/love / men, and then in 1111 you meet someone who changes things for you. As the EP continues, I fall back into the same patterns. With hopeless as the last track, it’s almost a self-aware moment, like Oh shit, I know I’m going to do this all over again.  With your release party in Echo Park, how did you bring the EP’s themes to life on stage? This was last night! A strong image in my mind while writing this project was the story of Persephone, where she gets coaxed into going to the underworld and tricked into being forced to stay there for part of each year. I wanted to create a dark, ethereal aesthetic that captures the emotion of Persephone’s nativity and hopefulness being darkened by her trust being taken advantage of. I also wanted the show to feel really intimate. I rented a historic house with beautiful greenery and had a really lovely, intimate performance. I included dripping candles and dark, uniquely shaped florals to make it feel like we were in a garden in the underworld. I integrated older songs into the set, which also took the audience on a journey of feeling hopeless.