B-Side Guys

Bristol’s Elly Hopkins transforms a humiliating performance experience into something approaching catharsis on “Cecile,” her debut original release after years fronting bands at venues like Royal Albert Hall and Glastonbury. The track documents what happens when you find yourself sharing a stage with someone whose mere presence makes you feel like an understudy in your own career.

Hopkins’ garage-rock-doo-wop approach serves her subject matter perfectly—the retro production style suggests someone reaching for vintage confidence while processing thoroughly modern insecurity. Her guitar-led arrangement at Humm Studios creates foundation sturdy enough to support some genuinely uncomfortable admissions about envy and inadequacy without collapsing into self-pity.

The song’s most devastating insight lies in its treatment of female competition as both natural response and learned behavior. Rather than pretending jealousy doesn’t exist among women in music, Hopkins documents its specific textures—the way charisma becomes weapon, how “glittering eyes and coquettish smile” can silence other performers simply by existing in the same space.

Her decision to name the track after its subject creates intimacy that borders on the uncomfortable. This isn’t abstract meditation on fame—it’s direct address to someone who probably doesn’t realize the damage they’ve caused simply by being exceptional at what they do. Hopkins captures the particular resentment that comes from knowing your feelings are both valid and petty simultaneously.

The track arrives at a moment when social media has made comparison inescapable, but Hopkins locates her jealousy in physical space rather than digital feeds. There’s something almost refreshing about envy that happens live, in real time, with witnesses—at least it feels honest compared to the carefully curated inadequacy of Instagram.