B-Side Guys

Lola Consuelos names her debut EP after the apology no one actually means. “Sorry, it’s all about me” functions as both confession and permission slip—acknowledging self-absorption while refusing to pretend otherwise. Across twelve minutes and five tracks, the New York-born, London-based artist documents the interior monologue of someone who overthinks everything, hurts herself worse than anyone else could, and knows exactly what she’s doing while doing it anyway. This is introspective pop with enough self-awareness to avoid navel-gazing, emotional clarity sharp enough to cut through the production’s polish.

“Lola” opens with her own name, claiming space before anyone asks if she deserves it. The lyrics capture relationship push-and-pull with precision: “You say ‘wait,’ Lola don’t go, I want you to stay… I’m not gonna wait for you.” The tension sits in that gap between what someone says they want and what they actually offer. She’s not playing hard to get; she’s establishing boundaries against manipulation disguised as affection. The production creates urgency without hysteria, matching the emotional stakes—this matters, but she’s not falling apart over it.

“Hypochondriac” flips the energy brighter while lyrics dig into darker territory. “I over-analyse… why do I break my own heart… I put the knife in my own back” catalogs the specific ways anxiety manifests as self-sabotage. The track title itself indicates awareness that the problems might be invented, that the pain comes from internal rather than external sources, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the spiraling. The deceptively light beat creates dissonance with the content, mirroring how people who overthink often present cheerfully while internally catastrophizing everything.

“Not Like You” shifts into melancholy and restraint, Consuelos drawing clear lines between her behavior and someone else’s. “Yeah, you hurt me bad… I’m not like you, I’ll never say the shit you do,” asserts moral difference without claiming perfection. She’s not pretending she’s above hurt or anger, just that she won’t weaponize them the same way. The track provides the EP’s emotional center—after two songs exploring her own patterns, this one examines what happens when other people’s patterns prove incompatible with hers.

The middle placement works strategically. After establishing her tendency toward self-sabotage, demonstrating that she can also recognize when problems originate externally matters. The EP isn’t just some confessional spiral; it’s a documentation of someone learning to distinguish between the damage she causes herself and the damage others inflict. That differentiation requires work, especially for people who default to self-blame.

“End of the World” bounces with anxious energy, fear, and excitement tangled together. “If it’s you and me at the end of the world, I don’t wanna get hurt again” captures the contradiction of new relationship hope when you’re still carrying old relationship scars. The apocalyptic framing suggests stakes that probably exceed reality—everything feels like the end of the world when you’re in your early twenties, and previous hurt hasn’t fully healed. But that’s the point. Emotions at this intensity deserve expression even when perspective suggests they’re disproportionate.

“Sexier” closes with jealousy and comparison, wanting to be enough while suspecting someone else always occupies mental space you can’t access. The title gets at the specific insecurity—not smarter, funnier, or kinder, but sexier. The track doesn’t resolve this gracefully or offer wisdom about self-worth. It sits in the uncomfortable recognition that sometimes you’re not the person someone wants most, and knowing that doesn’t make it hurt less.

Consuelos emerged from NYU’s Clive Davis Institute with training in both production and business, which shows in how tightly constructed these tracks are. Her collaboration with producer Tim Kvaskosky, ongoing since her student days, has developed into clear shorthand—the production consistently serves the emotional content without overwhelming it. Moving to London after a semester abroad suggests someone willing to follow instinct over safety, and that boldness carries through the music.

At twelve minutes, the EP functions as an introduction rather than a comprehensive statement. Five tracks provide enough material to establish identity without overstaying—Consuelos writes introspective pop about relationship dynamics and internal struggles, delivers it with soulful edge and catchy hooks, and possesses enough self-awareness to acknowledge her own patterns without drowning in them. Her first single three years ago hit 400k Spotify streams, indicating an existing audience ready for more material.

The EP title’s unapologetic self-focus actually demonstrates emotional intelligence. Consuelos recognizes that writing provides therapy, that these songs exist primarily for her own processing, and that pretending otherwise would be dishonest. She’s not sorry about the self-absorption because the self-absorption serves a purpose—understanding her own patterns, documenting her own growth, creating the vulnerability that makes strangers’ specific experiences feel universal. Sorry, not sorry. It’s all about her, until listeners recognize themselves in her specificity, and it becomes about everyone who’s ever overthought, self-sabotaged, drawn boundaries, or felt not enough. Twelve minutes of introspection, delivered with enough hooks to make the medicine go down easy.