In her debut EP paper girls, rising pop artist Mya Angelique doesn’t just sing about being a teenage girl—she dissects it, celebrates it, and lays it bare in all its messy, glitter-drenched complexity. At just 15 when most of these songs were written, Angelique channels a rare mix of vulnerability and lyrical sharpness that marks her as a standout voice in the coming-of-age pop landscape. Drawing influence from genre-defining artists like Olivia Rodrigo, Gracie Abrams, and Maisie Peters, she blends introspective storytelling with cinematic pop-rock textures, delivering a collection that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant.
The EP opens with “sixteen,” a bittersweet anthem that aches with the confusion of growing up too quickly. It sets the tone for the emotional honesty that follows, inviting listeners into a world where longing and identity often clash. “quick-brush” slows things down with delicate restraint, capturing the quiet erosion of self-worth in melodies as subtle and fleeting as the insecurities that inspired them. Throughout paper girls, Angelique balances softness and power—each track another page in the diary of a girl coming into herself through heartbreak, self-doubt, and defiance.
At the heart of the record is the title track, “paper girls,” a haunting exploration of perfectionism and the weight of being perceived. It’s fragile in both sound and structure, folded delicately like the metaphor it draws from—revealing the beauty and danger of trying to hold everything together. Then, in a brilliant tonal pivot, “the boy in the band” offers a cheeky, indie-movie-worthy take on falling for the idea of someone. It’s cliché and charming in all the right ways, proving that Mya Angelique knows when to laugh at herself and when to lean in.
But paper girls doesn’t shy away from the darker emotional terrain. “the comedown” is a quiet, devastating exploration of post-high emptiness, where the crash hits harder than the thrill. And “teenage girl nationality” is a standout moment—bold, witty, and brimming with sharp self-awareness. It reframes girlhood as both performance and resistance, where every joke is armor and every feeling a revolution. The EP closes with “glitter,” a poignant meditation on comparison and self-image, shimmering with sorrow as it questions what it means to be enough.
With paper girls, Mya Angelique delivers more than just a debut EP—she offers a sharply drawn portrait of youth in all its glittering contradictions. It’s chaotic, honest, and impossibly tender. In an era where authenticity is the most valuable currency in pop, Angelique isn’t just participating in the conversation—she’s writing a new chapter.