With her eagerly-awaited debut EP ‘Boysulk’, Ula detonates into the alt-pop landscape with a project that feels sculpted, cinematic, and unmistakably her own. It’s the kind of body of work that announces an artist as a world-builder, one who arrives with her mythology fully intact and her pen sharpened to a fine, emotional point.
Across five tracks, Ula weaves a sound that’s both spectral and cutting, blending shadowy electronic textures with a vocal delivery that flickers between tenderness and controlled fury. What’s most striking is how complete the project feels, with every synth line, every glitch, and every layered harmony bearing the imprint of someone who is designing entire psychological spaces.
‘Corridors’ opens the EP with slow-burning tension, like stepping into a dimly lit room where the walls breathe. It sets the mood immediately with its introspective pop sharpened into something eerie and hypnotic. While ‘So Kind’, her breakout moment, still hits with the same devastating elegance it did on first release. The track’s sweetness is a Trojan horse; beneath its soft glow lies a quietly devastating character study.
‘In My Eyes’ is the EP’s emotional core, delivering a spectral confession wrapped in icy production and a vocal performance that seems to float inches above reality. There’s something almost spiritual in the way Ula holds space here, like a ghost singing to the living. That is until ‘Danger’ shifts gears with its simmering pulse, moving with the confidence of an artist who knows exactly how tension should sound when translated into pop. Its hooks creep up slowly, then refuse to leave.
And then there’s ‘Best Day’, a finale that feels like walking through the smoke after the fire. It’s the closest thing the EP has to a sunrise.
What sets ‘Boysulk’ apart is how fully realised it is. Ula’s background as a self-sufficient creator bleeds through every second, giving the EP a coherence and control that most artists don’t reach until several releases in.
There’s a sense of voyeurism when listening to her songs, as if we’re peering into someone else’s dream journal. But Ula’s gift is turning her private landscapes into melancholy you can move to, and beauty carved out of unease.