LEILAH Finds Clarity in Chaos on LOST THE PLOT

After years of lending her voice to the likes of SBTRKT, Mura Masa and Speakers Corner Quartet, LEILAH is stepping firmly into her own light. Her new EP, LOST THE PLOT (via VLF Records), is a raw, theatrical purge — part confession, part performance — that channels chaos into something both vulnerable and commanding.

Across eight tracks, LEILAH navigates toxic cycles, emotional excavation, and the runaway energy of London nightlife with striking candour. It’s a project that doesn’t shy away from turbulence, but instead reshapes it into something both cathartic and sonically fearless.

“LOST THE PLOT” feels like a defiant laugh in the face of societal absurdity — a kind of sonic eye-roll at the state of things. Was writing it a way of reclaiming control, or more about surrendering to the chaos?

For me, surrendering to the chaos actually helped me find clarity. Control isn’t always peaceful or organised — sometimes it’s just showing up and creating within the madness. That’s the most honest and freeing thing you can do. Sometimes life is screaming, and all you can do is scream back and laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Your lyrics often feel like conversations between different versions of yourself — the realist, the romantic, the chaos agent. How do you navigate those voices when writing?

I’m constantly tussling with those perspectives, probably like anyone figuring out their 20s. My writing reflects that debate. I try to honour all those parts of myself — whichever voice is strongest that day tends to lead the song.

The EP is emotionally heavy in places, yet the sound feels bold and confident rather than weighed down. How did you find that balance?

Working with electronic producers has shaped my ear for the balance between the emotional and the exciting. I’m often the soulful element on tracks that become crazy club bangers, so that duality feels natural. The production often mirrors the spaces I was in, while the lyrics describe the inner experience.

You’ve worked with SBTRKT, Mura Masa, and others. What lessons from those collaborations shaped your own project?

They’re incredibly intentional — every tiny sound matters. I really admire that. With this EP, I wanted the same intentionality: every detail a reflection of my influences, ambitions and opinions. Even though it came from chaos, I didn’t want it to sound chaotic in the obvious way. Chaos can mean internal turmoil, toxic cycles, or exhaustion — and I wanted to capture that spectrum with care.

There’s a theatrical, Brechtian distance in your work — observing, critiquing, but still playful. What draws you to that performative space?

All the world’s a stage.” For me, there’s freedom in writing from different perspectives, not just my own. I like that distance — it reminds me and the audience that the artist is a performer. Some artists thrive on consistency, but I love when an era arrives and you don’t quite know what version of them you’ll get. That unpredictability — the endless possibilities of who I can be next — is where the fun lies.