Niko Rubio’s recent record release party for her new EP, “Sunday Girl,” which came out in late April, felt more festive than a typical industry event. Perhaps this was because the singer-songwriter, who was wearing a slinky leopard-print dress and drinking margaritas, was also celebrating her 25th birthday.

Before her set, Rubio, who is of Mexican and El Salvadoran descent, was holding court at a back table in the Rockwell Lounge in the West Adams neighborhood of Los Angeles, jumping up to greet fans and friends, introducing each to the rest of the crew at her table.

Her guests were dressed up. Two young women in bodysuits, concha belts and sky-high heels touched up their lip liner and adjusted each other’s cleavage before making their entrance, while a few of the singer’s fans from across the border — late-middle-aged women in tasteful heels and false eyelashes, pocketbooks hanging demurely on their wrists — waited for Rubio to take the stage.

Rubio possesses a hyper-femme dazzle that recalls 1990s Gwen Stefani, with whom she co-wrote the 2024 country-pop duet “Purple Irises,” as well as Stefani’s 2023 single “True Babe.” And for the last decade, the singer has been focusing on achieving old-school, household-name-style pop fame. As a teenager, Rubio, who is managed by her aunt Ana Maldonado, was writing songs and recording with local producers and beat makers she connected with on Instagram. Five years ago, she graduated to what she calls “the real music industry,” both as a songwriter and an artist, releasing three EPs since 2021 — “Sunday Girl” will be her fourth — and opening for artists like Omar Apollo and Chase Atlantic.

But the whole enterprise reflects her pursuit of a coherent creative identity: Her EPs vary in genre and sound, from indie rock to more hip-hop coded — and two are sung almost entirely in Spanish. “With other artists it’s like, ‘This is what I like and it’s very clear,’” said Rubio. “But for me, I wanted it all. I love Erykah Badu just as much as I love mariachi music just as much as I love, you know, Incubus.”

“Niko’s vibe is really reflective of the times,” said Stefani. “I feel like people growing up in these times have so much access to information and different kinds of music that they don’t have the same kind of borders that we had growing up. They just try everything, and I see that in her in how she dips into so many different styles.”

With the launch of a solo tour in the United States Rubio is finally zeroing in on her own voice. “‘Sunday Girl’ is really for me,” she said. Rubio imagines the song’s titular character as a nun leading a double life: By day, she fulfills her duties at the convent; by night, she performs as a sultry lounge singer. “Sometimes as a Latina woman I feel like I live as a nun and I cover myself up. I don’t talk about my sexuality. I don’t fully express myself,” said Rubio. “This is the first time I feel like I’m doing that. This is my rebellion album.”

Growing up, Rubio felt deeply connected to her heritage, but guilty about the sacrifices her family made to give her opportunities they didn’t have: She was the first in her family who was able to pursue her passion. “You can’t play with a baby at 19,” Rubio said, referring to the fact that her mother gave birth to her as a teenager. “My mom was dealt a difficult card and she’s so thankful that she chose to have me, but I also have to deal with that subconscious horrible guilt. The Catholic guilt is so real.”

Though she hails from Redondo Beach, Rubio attended high school on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, a ritzy area nearby where her grandparents lived “above their means” to allow her access to an elite education.

But as “the only brown girl” in the predominantly white, Catholic community, Rubio stood out. As far back as elementary school, she was reaching for songs, mostly by women, that not only helped her articulate her feelings, but shaped her worldview.

“Anytime I go through a breakup, No Doubt’s ‘Ex-Boyfriend’ gets turned on for hours,” said Rubio. The generations between Stefani and Shakira, and Lana Del Rey didn’t register with her when she first was listening to them on the music streaming platform Pandora. “I go on TikTok now and there’s girls that are like, my whole identity was created by Pandora,” Rubio said

Del Rey, whom she regards as her guiding light, anchored Rubio’s musical aesthetic. “Born To Die,” Del Rey’s blockbuster debut, came out in 2012, when Ms. Rubio was in fifth grade. “Mexicans love her,” said Rubio, who said some Latin people refer to Lana Del Rey as “Lanita.”

“We feel so represented by her,” said Rubio. “I think for Latin women, we are attracted to the unadulterated essence of longing and yearning and being bad. It goes against the Catholicism, it goes against patriarchy. She’s so strong but she’s also like, ‘I’m also a slut for a guy, and we want all of that, you know what I mean?”

Although Rubio began writing songs as a teenager, it wasn’t until she was a sophomore in high school that she got serious about it. She told Maldonado that she needed to become “an artist, to go on tour and to make music for people and to represent Southern California and Mexican Salvadoran women and be a pop star.”

Maldonado, who radiates a mix of optimism with grit, agreed to work with her. Her aunt enrolled in the UCLA music business extension program to study music management. Rubio sneaked into her aunt’s classes, and the two became obsessed with breaking into the music world.

“We would go to literally any session, whoever DMs you,” said Rubio. “We would go to some random dude’s house in Redondo Beach, like, knock on their door. That’s where it can get scary. You have to pray to God that you’re gonna be OK, and luckily I was. I had Ana.”

Rubio was 16 when she and Maldonado went to Coachella for their first time. “When you’re born and raised here, it’s Mecca,” she said. She remembered turning to her aunt and announcing that one day she would play the festival, but last year she didn’t even attend as a fan. “I just didn’t deserve to go, girl,” she said. “Put in the work. You know what I mean? Like, you’re turning 25! Where are you going with this? What are you trying to say?” Instead, she kept her nose to the grindstone. In a single year, 20,000 followers turned into over 120,000.

“You have to do that,” she said. “You can’t sit there and be like, ‘My fans will find me.’ They don’t find you, you have to go out and seek them. You have to let go of the part of your brain that’s telling you you’re not good enough, you have to let go of your part of the brain that is telling you you’re not pretty enough, you have to let go of the part of your brain that’s telling you you’re not talented enough.”

Has she done that?

“Almost,” said Rubio, smiling. “I’m almost ready.”

Camera operating by Michael Tyrone Delaney