Colin 
Isla Mae returns with Some Form of Art, a thoughtful and confident new EP that highlights her growing maturity as a writer and performer. Recorded largely in her bedroom and mastered by Ryan Davies at RCD Audio, it pulls together four songs that feel both personal and universal. The record explores self-reflection, guilt, hope, and love through vivid storytelling and smooth, stripped-back production.
At nineteen, Isla already writes with clarity and purpose. Her sound moves comfortably between indie, folk, and pop, but the core is always her voice and lyricism. She recorded and produced much of the record herself, shaping every track with a calm confidence that keeps the focus on emotion rather than studio polish. It’s a step forward from her earlier EPs Dancing Under a Pseudonym and Halfway to the Sun, showing how much she has refined her craft.
The title track, ‘Some Form of Art’, sets the tone. It captures the feeling of finally allowing yourself to fall for someone and believe that love might actually work. The writing feels gentle and measured, the kind of song that stays steady instead of exploding into a chorus. Isla’s vocal control and warmth give it quiet strength, while the arrangement leaves space for the emotion to speak.
‘One Night Stand’ explores guilt in a clever, human way. Isla turns the weight of regret into something that feels alive, describing it as if it were a person in the room. The lyrics flow naturally, each line built from real experience and observation. The production keeps the listener close, using soft harmonies and subtle guitar to underline the story. It’s relatable and honest, one of her most emotionally direct songs so far.
‘What Love Will Do to You’ adds a spark of energy. It’s the most pop-leaning moment on the record, co-produced with Dan Wilde and featuring Jack Linsdell on drums. The song channels the frustration of watching someone you care about fall for the wrong person. It’s catchy without losing heart, and the mix of teenage angst and bittersweet tone gives it charm. Isla’s phrasing lifts it above cliché, showing her instinct for balance between melody and meaning.
‘All the Things I’ve Never Had’ closes the EP on a reflective note. It feels like a letter to her future self, asking how to feel content with what she already has instead of focusing on what she doesn’t. The track leans into simplicity, its acoustic base carrying a sense of calm resolution. It’s understated, and that restraint makes it feel sincere.
Review
Some Form of Art feels like the moment where Isla Mae moves from promising newcomer to confident songwriter. The EP doesn’t chase perfection or production gloss; it trusts the writing to do the work. Each song stands on its own, but together they show real range and emotional intelligence. Her storytelling feels sharper, and the production choices support rather than distract from her message.
There’s still space for growth, particularly in variation of pacing and tone, but that consistency also gives the record its cohesion. The sound is soft but never flat, intimate but never tentative. Isla Mae’s voice carries both warmth and bite, and that balance holds the whole record together. Some Form of Art doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It earns attention through craft, focus, and the kind of honesty that makes you want to listen again.