B-Side Guys

Sophie writes from that particular emotional register where everything feels significant but nothing demands urgency. Her debut EP lucky captures early twenties consciousness with the accuracy of someone still living it—relationships forming and dissolving, friendships outgrown, identity questions asked without expecting immediate answers. Across seventeen minutes and five tracks, the Perth-based artist constructs a world of bedroom intimacy and golden hour reflection, where indie folk and alternative pop blur into something that sounds like diary entries set to music.

“leave it” establishes the EP’s aesthetic immediately: delicate guitar, airy vocals, the sense of overhearing something private. The track addresses friendship endings with the particular melancholy that comes from recognizing a relationship no longer serves either person involved. Sophie layers harmonies around her vocals before introducing drums and ambient textures, the arrangement building gradually as if mirroring the difficulty of actually leaving. An overdriven electric guitar eventually enters, providing grit that prevents the track from floating away entirely into softness.

The production throughout maintains consistent coziness. Nothing feels aggressively mixed or compressed, instruments sitting in space with room to breathe. This could read as underproduction if the intimacy weren’t clearly intentional—sleepy soph commits fully to the bedroom recording aesthetic, trusting that warmth matters more than polish. The approach works when the songwriting supports it, feels slight when it doesn’t.

“last chips in the packet” leans into early 2000s nostalgia, capturing new romance through small gestures and clumsy getting-to-know-you moments. The title itself functions as the kind of specific detail that makes writing feel lived rather than workshopped—sharing last chips as tiny intimacy, the gesture meaning more than the act. Sophie’s vocals stay soft while meandering electric guitars and pulsing synths add texture without overwhelming. The track drifts more than drives, which suits the subject matter even if it occasionally tips toward formlessness.

“aquarius song” strips back to essentials, simple instrumentation creating space for raw honesty about feeling different from everyone else. The astrology reference in the title could read as cliché except Sophie doesn’t lean on zodiac explanations—the song uses astrological identity as entry point into broader feelings of isolation and particularity. The vulnerability here cuts deeper than the more textured tracks because there’s nowhere to hide in the arrangement.

“jazz boy” pivots dramatically, 80s-inspired production featuring actual saxophone, clarinet, and flute. The playfulness feels earned after three tracks of introspection, Sophie demonstrating range while maintaining the EP’s overall gentle energy. The instrumentation choices inject personality—these aren’t typical indie folk moves, and the willingness to incorporate horns and woodwinds suggests an artist comfortable following instinct rather than genre convention. The smoothness could border on slick if the performance weren’t still so obviously casual.

“lesson learned” closes the EP with brushed drums and slide guitar providing country touch, Sophie writing explicitly about girlhood in your twenties and the friendships that define it. The track functions as gentle anthem, affirming rather than questioning, celebrating rather than analyzing. After four tracks exploring various forms of change and uncertainty, ending on friendship and memory feels appropriate—not resolution exactly, but acknowledgment that some things remain stable even when everything else shifts.

At seventeen minutes, lucky leaves listeners wanting more, which might be the point. EPs function best as statements of intent rather than comprehensive documents, and Sophie establishes her aesthetic clearly without overstaying. The brevity also prevents the softness from becoming monotonous—much longer and the consistent gentle energy might start feeling samey.

The “sleepy soph” moniker captures something essential about this music. It sounds drowsy, written and performed at the edges of consciousness where feelings blur into each other and nothing needs to be resolved immediately. The lowercase styling reinforces the intimacy, suggesting someone not interested in shouting for attention but rather inviting listeners into quiet spaces.

Whether this approach sustains beyond EP length remains to be seen. The bedroom aesthetic works perfectly for seventeen minutes but could feel limited across a full album without evolution. Sophie demonstrates enough range here—the 80s playfulness of “jazz boy,” the country touches on “lesson learned”—to suggest she’s capable of expanding the palette while maintaining core identity.

lucky succeeds on its own terms: as lullaby for growing pains, as soft documentation of early twenties confusion, as invitation into someone else’s private reflections. Sophie isn’t trying to make grand statements or push boundaries. She’s writing honestly about navigating an age where everything feels both temporary and permanent, where friendships matter intensely even as they end, where romance carries weight despite its newness. The EP title suggests gratitude for the messiness, acceptance that even difficult transitions contain their own strange fortune. For a debut, that level of perspective—recognizing luck in the midst of growing pains—indicates an artist already comfortable with complexity, even if she chooses to express it gently.