Audrey Nuna on Boredom, Rebellion, and Finding Her Voice at the Chreece Festival

MusicLive MusicIndianapolisChreece Festival317Hip-Hop

24 Aug

Audrey Nuna performing at the Chreece Festival in Indianapolis — **Audrey Nuna**

The Chreece Festival is, in its very essence, an exercise in community. A homegrown affair in Indianapolis that celebrates the independent, the diverse, and the genuine. This year, its lineup carried a name that felt almost impossibly large for the scene, yet entirely deserved: Audrey Nuna. To be honest, I did not believe it when I heard it the first time, but after being convinced by a slew of information, and people, I was on board. Her presence wasn't just a booking that rounded out the already diverse lineup, but rather a testament to her unique draw, a quiet but undeniable gravity that has earned her a fervent following.

During a discussion we had before her performance, Nuna spoke to the emotional weight of performing at a festival like this, observing that it holds a different and equally important kind of weight compared to larger-scale, more commercial festivals. "It’s a homegrown festival," she noted, highlighting its power to bring different types of people together and its cross-genre lineup, which she loves for its unpredictability. This embrace of community and diverse talent, she suggested, is something the music industry needs more of. Everyone here, she remarked, was just so sweet.

The conversation naturally gravitated toward her hit music video for “Mine,” a visually arresting piece of work celebrated for its artistry. The choreography, a key component, was credited to a movement director named Camila Arana, a friend of the video's director. Nuna revealed that while she doesn't typically work with choreographers, she felt it was an essential part of the concept for "Mine," a decision that brought a different and refreshing perspective to the movement.

When asked about her hopes for the live show that night at the Hi-Fi, Nuna's answer was refreshingly devoid of pretense. She expressed a desire for people to leave feeling she was "sweaty and present." Her goal, she explained, is to give everything she has on stage, to be fully there with the audience throughout the entire show. For her, being present is one of the most important things when it comes to a live performance.

Beyond the stage, Nuna's creative process is a compelling study in controlled chaos. When approaching a new project, she reportedly likes to start with "a lot of boredom." She noted that she knows it can appear unproductive, but she said, "fuck the obsession of the product." This intentional state of unproductiveness is where her ideas are conceived, a space where she can quietly gather inspiration from myriad sources. She spoke of watching random things and allowing herself to morph into "somewhat of a designer," pulling from elements that resonate, from '90s fashion shows to the work of contemporary directors like Gabriel Moses and even Ben Stiller's work on the show Severance. She also finds inspiration in more mundane, almost defiant places—"really badly designed" ads in Brooklyn or "a grandma in KTown dressed like she just doesn't give a fuck." It's a testament to her belief that inspiration can be found anywhere, in the things that are most raw and authentic.

The discussion also touched on her role in the anime K-Pop Demon Hunters, where she provides the singing voice for the character, Mira. Nuna said she and Mira share an interestingly similar persona, which made the role feel "very instinctual and natural." However, she found the singing portion of the role challenging, as it pushed her to try something new and out of her comfort zone. Unlike her own projects, where she oversees many different creative elements, this role gave her one job: to deliver the lines. This singular focus, she suggested, taught her a lot and allowed her to dial in solely on the character's persona. She even joked that she would love to provide vocals for the child of Lady Rainicorn from Adventure Time if the opportunity ever arose.

This search for authenticity also informs her relationship with fashion, which she described as an exercise in freedom. She sees it and her music as "the same message, different language," rooted in a childhood experience of restricted uniform and the subsequent rebellion of wearing whatever she wanted. Fashion, she said, was her "first little secret rebellion," an early practice in just not caring what others thought. The conversation concluded on a forward-looking note. Nuna spoke of feeling good and confronting challenges and vulnerabilities "without being scared of them." Or, as she put it, "being scared and approaching them anyway." She described being in a place of "deep clarity" after a few years of chaotic change. She said she is excited to "make my best shit, make the best shit that I've ever made," and to find new collaborators and perspectives. It's the promise of an artist who has found her footing, not by running from the past, but by embracing its lessons and looking toward the future with a quiet, determined grace.

When it came time for Audrey Nuna to take the stage at Chreece, the energy within the Hi-Fi was beyond humid with an audience raving up a mess watching dozens of acts before. The venue, which had reached a sold-out, standing-room-only capacity, was a testament to the Nuna’s growing pull. Lines had been turned away, a clear indication of a demand that outstripped the space. On stage, Nuna's presence was a study in contradictions—a quiet intensity that erupted into an undeniable force. The room, crammed with a mix of longtime fans and the newly converted, was utterly captivated, hanging on every lyrical nuance and melodic shift. Almost right out of the gate she came out with IDGAF and the rest is Chreece history.

The best demonstration of a creative vision that has found its footing at Chreece is owed to Nuna. Nuna moved through her catalog with an effortless command that blew this editor, and everyone else in the room away. The setlist felt like a journey, a deep look at her own creative evolution that she had discussed just moments before. In a festival designed to celebrate the independent, Nuna’s performance was a powerful signal of what independent artistry can be: a force so genuine, so compelling, that it can fill a room to the point of overflow, leaving those on the outside with a distinct, visceral understanding of what they’ve missed.