There’s something quietly radical about Isla Mae’s new EP Some Form of Art. At just 19, the South Cambridgeshire-born, Leeds-based artist has already built a reputation for her precocious lyricism and soul-searching songwriting — but this latest release takes things further. Written, performed, and mostly recorded in her bedroom, Some Form of Art feels like a coming-of-age moment, where confessional storytelling meets indie-pop polish and emotional vulnerability burns bright through lo-fi textures.
From the opening notes, Isla draws you into her world — a place where guilt, love, and self-doubt collide in cinematic miniature. It’s the kind of record that makes you stop scrolling, close the laptop, and actually listen.
Here’s the ThisIsTheMusic track by track review.
One Night Stand
The opener One Night Stand sets the tone with raw honesty and a beautifully minimalist production. Guilt becomes its own character here — a shadow that lingers long after the night fades. Isla’s vocal sits right on the edge between fragility and power, the kind that recalls Phoebe Bridgers’ confessional moments or early Billie Eilish’s bedroom-pop intimacy. There’s a subtle ache in the delivery, a self-awareness that feels wise beyond her years. This is regret as art form — messy, human, and quietly devastating.
Some Form of Art
The title track feels like the emotional heartbeat of the record. Dreamy guitar tones and shimmering production carry a sense of release — as though Isla’s finally allowing herself to fall headfirst into love, no disclaimers attached. There’s hope here, but it’s laced with hesitation, like someone learning to trust again. Musically, it’s her most expansive work to date, marrying the soft edges of indie folk with the layered sensibilities of alt-pop. The refrain — that love itself can be “some form of art” — lands like a mantra for those still learning to open up.
What Love Will Do to You (Remastered)
This remastered version glows with the full-band energy that lifts Isla’s songwriting into a different stratosphere. Backed by Dan Wilde and Jack Linsdell, she steps into a more pop-leaning sound — melodic, hook-driven, and bursting with teenage perspective. Lyrically, it taps into the bittersweet ache of watching someone fall for the wrong person. There’s a hint of Lily Allen’s sharp storytelling and KT Tunstall’s melodic confidence, but Isla makes it entirely her own — infectious yet tender, catchy yet quietly bruised.
All the Things I’ve Never Had
The closing track feels like a letter to her future self — part confession, part pep-talk. Over a delicate acoustic arrangement, Isla reflects on envy, gratitude, and the human tendency to measure our worth by what we lack. The song grows from gentle reflection into something hopeful and empowering. It’s the perfect closer — soft but strong, introspective yet forward-looking, like sunlight breaking through an overcast morning.
With Some Form of Art, Isla Mae proves that indie’s next great storyteller might already be here. Her songwriting sits in that rare space between vulnerability and vision — weaving the ordinary into something quietly extraordinary. This isn’t an artist still finding her sound; it’s one confidently experimenting within it.
From bedroom recordings to festival stages, Isla Mae’s evolution feels inevitable. And if Some Form of Art is anything to go by, the next chapter promises to be every bit as heartfelt — and just as fearless.
Some Form Of Art is released on Friday 7th November
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