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ORA COGAN
Hard Hearted Woman(Sacred Bones Records)
Add date: 3.17.2026
Release date: 3.13.2026
Links:
Apple Music
Bandcamp
Facebook
Instagram
Official Website
Spotify
Tidal
YouTube
Ora Cogan’s music is alchemical: part instinct, part ritual, and always conjured from the edges where life feels sharpest. Hard Hearted Woman, her debut for Sacred Bones, is a spell for anyone with a desire to stay wild in a world that keeps hardening. Mixing haunted folk, psych rock, and a shadowy strain of country, Cogan builds a realm where catharsis feels lush, mysterious and vital.
Raised on an island in the Salish Sea, Cogan’s bohemian upbringing in a home steeped in music, art, and philosophical debate - her father a photojournalist, her mother a musician and studio co-owner - shaped her early immersion in traditional folk and outsider music. She left home to apprentice as a silversmith at the age of 15, taking on a kaleidoscopic array of jobs while touring through Europe and the US, fully immersing herself in underground music of all varieties.
Anchored in Vancouver’s noise and experimental scene, she taught herself to play fiddle, toured in a drone-folk duo, and collaborated with a multitude of artists, never settling into one sound or scene. A canoe journey with friends from the Heiltsuk Nation led her to walking away from music for a while, dedicating years to environmental justice followed by human rights focused photojournalism. After her father’s death, she moved to Nanaimo, drawn to its remote landscapes and eclectic music community. She started building a studio and collaborating with local musicians including Finn Smith, Nancy Pittet, Kristopher Bowering (Orville Peck) - who now form her band - working with international artists such as Y La Bamba, Cormac MacDiarmada (Lankum), and Backxwash, and touring with the likes of Emma Ruth Rundle and One Leg One Eye.
Following 2023’s Formless, she spent a winter crafting new songs that became Hard Hearted Woman and the Bury Me EP, a foggy, cryptic companion featuring legendary cellist Lori Goldston (Nirvana), Swedish violinist Ester Thunander, harpist Elisa Thorn, and longtime collaborators, linking the works through metallic guitars and simmering swells of voice and violin.
Written in Twin Peaks-like Nanaimo, B.C., Hard Hearted Woman grew out of a blur of cold-water plunges, long river swims, late-night ruminations on art and politics with friends, and long drives through the rural Lillooet landscape visiting her godmother. She recorded with her beloved band and guests from both the country and experimental worlds with David Parry (Loving) at Dream Club in Victoria, B.C., as well as in her studio in Nanaimo, and remotely with Tom Deis. The result is a record that glows like something pulled from smoke and seawater - intimate, shimmering, and carved with wit as much as grief. It’s a swirling, jewel-toned ode to all the angels and the demons.
Though she thought she’d make a more guarded, heavy record, Hard Hearted Woman kept drifting toward vitality. Shaken by the tenor of modern life, she pulled in a circle of kindred musicians and made something that thrums with color and heat - a record shaped by someone who has looked into the abyss and decided, again and again, to choose curiosity.
The album opens with “Honey,” a slow-blooming burn built on warm strings and loose, driving percussion. Cogan’s voice is steady, smoky, and consoling, addressing the “hard hearted woman” who anchors the record. Written in response to anti-trans legislation, the song radiates resilience without ever losing its tenderness and Cogan sings like someone offering shelter in the middle of a storm.
“The Smoke” rises on a hypnotic rhythm, nodding toward JJ Cale while pulling the form apart. It’s a groove for the end times with congas, shakers, cracked guitars, and ghost-weathered textures all colliding as Cogan sifts through the darker corners of our shared humanity. She doesn’t shy away from the mess. Instead she digs into it, looking for the spark that can turn dread into empathy.
On “Division,” her voice echoes across a stark, reverberant landscape. The song builds like a flare in the night, a plea against the numbing cruelty that’s come to feel routine these days. Cogan sounds like she’s summoning something, maybe a higher power, maybe the part of herself that knows how to sit with pain long enough to transform it.
Hard Hearted Woman is a work of devotion to mystery, to community, to the strange power of making art in a fractured world. “It’s the most important part, the magic,” Cogan says. “What I write about isn’t always confessional, sometimes it is just an attempt at understanding. Working on music right now feels necessary for a healthy nervous system. I hope that it works that way for the people listening.”
Despite its title, Hard Hearted Woman isn’t about shutting down, rather about hardness as resilience. It’s the shell we grow so our most human, breakable selves can survive. It’s a record for anyone trying to stay open, even when the world makes that feel impossible.
Apple Music
Bandcamp
Official Website
Spotify
Tidal
YouTube
Ora Cogan’s music is alchemical: part instinct, part ritual, and always conjured from the edges where life feels sharpest. Hard Hearted Woman, her debut for Sacred Bones, is a spell for anyone with a desire to stay wild in a world that keeps hardening. Mixing haunted folk, psych rock, and a shadowy strain of country, Cogan builds a realm where catharsis feels lush, mysterious and vital.
Raised on an island in the Salish Sea, Cogan’s bohemian upbringing in a home steeped in music, art, and philosophical debate - her father a photojournalist, her mother a musician and studio co-owner - shaped her early immersion in traditional folk and outsider music. She left home to apprentice as a silversmith at the age of 15, taking on a kaleidoscopic array of jobs while touring through Europe and the US, fully immersing herself in underground music of all varieties.
Anchored in Vancouver’s noise and experimental scene, she taught herself to play fiddle, toured in a drone-folk duo, and collaborated with a multitude of artists, never settling into one sound or scene. A canoe journey with friends from the Heiltsuk Nation led her to walking away from music for a while, dedicating years to environmental justice followed by human rights focused photojournalism. After her father’s death, she moved to Nanaimo, drawn to its remote landscapes and eclectic music community. She started building a studio and collaborating with local musicians including Finn Smith, Nancy Pittet, Kristopher Bowering (Orville Peck) - who now form her band - working with international artists such as Y La Bamba, Cormac MacDiarmada (Lankum), and Backxwash, and touring with the likes of Emma Ruth Rundle and One Leg One Eye.
Following 2023’s Formless, she spent a winter crafting new songs that became Hard Hearted Woman and the Bury Me EP, a foggy, cryptic companion featuring legendary cellist Lori Goldston (Nirvana), Swedish violinist Ester Thunander, harpist Elisa Thorn, and longtime collaborators, linking the works through metallic guitars and simmering swells of voice and violin.
Written in Twin Peaks-like Nanaimo, B.C., Hard Hearted Woman grew out of a blur of cold-water plunges, long river swims, late-night ruminations on art and politics with friends, and long drives through the rural Lillooet landscape visiting her godmother. She recorded with her beloved band and guests from both the country and experimental worlds with David Parry (Loving) at Dream Club in Victoria, B.C., as well as in her studio in Nanaimo, and remotely with Tom Deis. The result is a record that glows like something pulled from smoke and seawater - intimate, shimmering, and carved with wit as much as grief. It’s a swirling, jewel-toned ode to all the angels and the demons.
Though she thought she’d make a more guarded, heavy record, Hard Hearted Woman kept drifting toward vitality. Shaken by the tenor of modern life, she pulled in a circle of kindred musicians and made something that thrums with color and heat - a record shaped by someone who has looked into the abyss and decided, again and again, to choose curiosity.
The album opens with “Honey,” a slow-blooming burn built on warm strings and loose, driving percussion. Cogan’s voice is steady, smoky, and consoling, addressing the “hard hearted woman” who anchors the record. Written in response to anti-trans legislation, the song radiates resilience without ever losing its tenderness and Cogan sings like someone offering shelter in the middle of a storm.
“The Smoke” rises on a hypnotic rhythm, nodding toward JJ Cale while pulling the form apart. It’s a groove for the end times with congas, shakers, cracked guitars, and ghost-weathered textures all colliding as Cogan sifts through the darker corners of our shared humanity. She doesn’t shy away from the mess. Instead she digs into it, looking for the spark that can turn dread into empathy.
On “Division,” her voice echoes across a stark, reverberant landscape. The song builds like a flare in the night, a plea against the numbing cruelty that’s come to feel routine these days. Cogan sounds like she’s summoning something, maybe a higher power, maybe the part of herself that knows how to sit with pain long enough to transform it.
Hard Hearted Woman is a work of devotion to mystery, to community, to the strange power of making art in a fractured world. “It’s the most important part, the magic,” Cogan says. “What I write about isn’t always confessional, sometimes it is just an attempt at understanding. Working on music right now feels necessary for a healthy nervous system. I hope that it works that way for the people listening.”
Despite its title, Hard Hearted Woman isn’t about shutting down, rather about hardness as resilience. It’s the shell we grow so our most human, breakable selves can survive. It’s a record for anyone trying to stay open, even when the world makes that feel impossible.