Eshan Agarwal has been writing songs since he was five years old. Not performing them, not pitching them — writing them. For himself, mostly. A private language before it became a public one.
That origin matters, because it shows up in everything he makes. There’s a quality to his songwriting that feels self-sufficient, like it wasn’t built for approval. “That One’s On Me,” his upcoming single dropping April 3rd, is the clearest example yet — a track that could have easily leaned into the dramatic release of a breakup and instead chooses something quieter and considerably harder: accountability without self-destruction. The realization that you saw the signs and looked away anyway.
He grew up in Scarsdale, the kind of town that gave him space to figure out who he was, and then moved to Manhattan, which gave him people to figure it out against. His writing shifted with that move — less interior, more relational. The city made him louder in the right ways.
Eshan Agarwal has synesthesia, which means sound registers as color for him, and he’s not precious about letting it override conventional logic. If a key looks wrong, it gets changed. If a production choice feels visually crowded, it gets stripped. The result is music with real air in it — contemporary without being disposable, polished without losing its nerve.
Strangers Again, the debut album arriving shortly after the single, traces a full relationship arc from first spark to final reckoning. He built it so each song holds on its own while still connecting to something larger — islands in the same ocean, as he puts it. “That One’s On Me” lands near the end of that sequence, and you feel it. It’s the part of the story where the noise clears and what’s left is just honesty.
April 3rd. Pay attention.