By Colin 
Cat Burns delivers a record that feels like a conversation you were always meant to join. How to Be Human is born from personal truth, shaped by her inner life and the revelations that come when you recognise more of yourself. It is an album about quiet courage, about owning your story and staying open instead of perfect.
Her journey includes more than the usual themes of love, loss and growth. In recent years she shared that she has been diagnosed with both autism spectrum disorder and attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. This truth-telling moment seems to have changed how she writes, and how she sings. She has said that the diagnosis made life make sense in new ways. The effect appears in her music: an artist whose self-understanding has sharpened, whose voice is clearer.
From the first track you sense that she is grounded in her own experience. A voice note from her grandad opens the album and sets a tone of family, memory and the things that endure. It shows her looking back as she looks forward. The songs that follow pick up the pieces of identity she has been assembling: what it means to be seen, what it means to accept the parts of yourself others might not always notice. Her neurodivergence adds texture rather than label: it quietly underlines her sense of difference and her need to belong.
Embracing identity, shaping sound
Across the album she writes with clarity and emotional precision. She uses plain language, no hiding behind abstract images. When she sings about heartbreak or feeling misunderstood, you believe her because she sounds fully present. Her voice carries the weight of someone who has questioned, learned, accepted and still asks questions. It often sounds like she’s telling you a story she is still living. The production around her supports that: guitar and piano mix with subtle electronic flourishes, allowing space for reflection. At its best the music opens quietly and lets you lean in rather than turning up.
Tracks like ‘Come Home’ and ‘Small Talk’ push the emotional tone in different directions. With its gentle rhythm and steady guitar, ‘Come Home’ asks for return and belonging. ‘Small Talk’ uses minimalisation to reveal awkwardness and the friction of moving on. In each song Cat allows silence, repetition, and the shimmer of unspoken emotions to matter as much as lyrics. Her neuro-divergent lens seems to bring a sensitivity to those pauses: the unsaid, the underestimated, the way you hold your breath. Her voice remains calm but insistent. She never overshoots. She gives space for the feeling to show itself.
The title-track How to Be Human binds the themes. It addresses the desire to live authentically, to carry your flaws, to build from them rather than erase them. It reflects her revealed diagnosis – accepting that difference is part of being human and that strength can come from disclosed truth rather than hidden struggle. The arrangement grows gently: harmonies layer, instruments lift, but never overwhelm. You feel the moment of arrival rather than explosion. By the end you sense she has invited you into a world that is both personal and shared.
Lyrically the record explores acceptance, identity, and self-kindness. She writes about the sensation of trying to fit, to belong, while still holding on to what makes you different.
Her voice is the central instrument. It sounds confident and grounded. She phrases with care, with room for breathing. That restraint matters: it shows she values nuance, that she trusts the listener more than a big chorus. The production follows: neither glossy nor raw for shock value, but clean enough to allow each detail to emerge. And yet she does let texture into her world. The presence of neuro-divergence isn’t gimmick. It’s part of how she hears rhythm, patterns, phrasing, emotion. This gives the album an undercurrent of complexity without sacrificing accessibility.
That said, the album is not without its moments of familiarity. Some songs drift into territory you have heard before: pop ballad structure, melodic arcs you recognise. At times the polish smooths some edge. But those moments read as choices rather than lapses. Cat is building within a tradition she knows well while inserting her own mark. The disclosure of her neuro-divergence gives the familiar a fresh frame: the smoothness becomes clarity, not slickness.
Lyrically the record explores acceptance, identity, and self-kindness. She writes about the sensation of trying to fit, to belong, while still holding on to what makes you different. Her neuro-divergent reality appears in lines about overhearing your brain’s workings, catching yourself when you feel out of sync, and choosing to trust your rhythm anyway. That layer gives existing themes new weight. The album becomes not just about the universal feeling of being human, but the particular tension of being human while feeling slightly “other”.
By the time you reach the closing track you have been carried through a process – not a resolution so much as a recognition. You see the track-list as chapters: the family voice note, the scenes of separation, the return, the acceptance. Everything links. It feels less like a playlist of singles and more like a journey. That unity gives the album strength.
After listening you carry away warmth. It’s not the heat of grand gestures but the glow of genuine presence. Even when Cat sings of struggle, it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels real. She invites you in rather than hands you something finished. The album works because it allows you to feel alongside her.
How to Be Human is a record for those who want songs with heart, honesty, and roots. It is for the people who think difference matters, who want to feel seen rather than mass-marketed, who are learning themselves and want to listen while they do. Cat Burns gives you her world, and leaves your room open too. You can buy How to Be Human on vinyl here.