A letter from Me to You
By Leilah.
Grief, burnout, bunny miracles, and the music that almost didn’t make it. I wanted to finally put down in writing the chaotic path to the finish line.
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Our Final Destination: LOST THE PLOT Is Here.
This has been one of the hardest years (and a bit) of my life. 2024 was truly a trip. People think they understand what artists go through to bring a project to fruition, but they have no idea. Especially for smaller artists. The creative and business highs and lows. The emotional toll. And through it all, life doesn’t stop. I started two different EP concepts that had to be scrapped for various financial reasons, and I was given the run-around for half the year before it became painfully clear these projects wouldn’t materialise. So much time was lost, and I was now under more pressure than ever. The recurring setbacks created immense difficulty for me and my team, our relationship hanging by a thread, but we powered through to see this project to the finishing line.
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Health Battles and Starting Over
Right after celebrating my birthday, I had to stop everything. Medical issues forced me to restart my creative process over and over again. My body had begun to fight itself. I was medicated to the hills for several months whilst on a waitlist to see a specialist. A year later, I’m still on that waitlist. I experienced levels of pain and despair I didn’t know was possible, all while still needing to deliver an EP. The intensity of those moments and feeling like I was barely holding on shaped the music, whether I wanted it to or not. It was such a challenging time, and yet it was during this darkness that the project found its voice, and name.
At the final hour, the last months of the year, I was blessed to have the amazing producer Congee came aboard to save a project on its last legs. His help brought the prospect of finishing this EP back to life. But just when things seemed to be turning around, tragedy struck again…
Smokey’s Miracle
One morning, I woke up to find my baby bunny, Smokey, unable to move his body. His head turned, but his little legs wouldn’t move. I rushed to the vet. And after a £400 weekend emergency appointment and follow-up, there were no answers - just a £3000 estimate to send him to a specialist in Camden to investigate, or the suggestion to put him down. I was devastated. On the way home, still in shock, I got into a car accident. I now had a potentially dying rabbit, an expensive car repair and my mental capacity on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
I refused to let Smokey go. His sudden decline was too bizarre to me. I saw life in his eyes. He was healthy and happy, he just couldn’t move. I researched day and night, found possible diagnoses, and all manner of holistic and medical remedies. I begged the vet to let me try, despite the repeated calls suggesting to let him go. For seven days, I slept on the couch, syringe-feeding Smokey every two hours. I was writing at 1 a.m., recording, producing, and conceptualising all while juggling business, meetings, and my personal life on top of my health battles. I’ve never experienced the fatigue that comes with being that sleep-deprived before.
For a week, I was a zombie, a musician and a 24hr vet. Then, the miracle happened. Slowly, his legs moved. He ate on his own, and within a few weeks, Smokey was hopping again! Just as I had to jump back into travel to Sam’s house to get the EP recorded, he pulled through. It was gradual, and I was nervous, but Sam supported me through it - even letting me bring Smokey and Capo to recording sessions, so I could keep an eye on him while working on the EP, until he was fully back to himself.
Till today, when I go to the pet store/vet, the staff ask how ‘Smokey Miracles’ is doing. I look at him, and I’m just gobsmacked and grateful for how he fought and made it through.
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Creating Through the Chaos
Despite everything, the EP continued. Imperfectly, exhausted, but driven with heart. Sam and I had only about three months total together from the first meeting to shape this EP. And even then, we ran out of time. Sam had to travel and, yet again, the full completion of an EP with 8 tracks, or ending on the 6 we’d finished, hung in the air. The final two tracks were finished by J.D. Reid, a dear collaborator friend of mine, who saved the day in the final hour and transformed the demos we worked on into more than I could’ve imagined. I’m endlessly grateful to both of them for jumping aboard and making what felt impossible possible.
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A World in Crisis. The Art of Survival.
Throughout this process, the background to making this EP was a personal life in tatters and the world unravelling around me. Division. Anger. Collapse. Many times, I often feel born to the wrong generation entirely, the weight of the world feels increasingly harder than it should be, survival itself feels like an achievement in your 20s. But through everything, God and music were my constants.
I saw both the worst of the industry and the best of people in it. I faced situations of danger, ego, fear, and yet also found support, kindness, encouragement and real collaboration. People who believed in me. Shoutout to the directing and creative team who helped to get the visuals for my singles and this project together - you were a dream to work with. Thank you for your vision and energy (and running around London looking crazy with me!). Working on videos was a whole new experience, and I learnt so much. A highlight in this whole process! To my management and team - thank you for helping to make all of this happen.
The Invisible Man & Invisible Struggles
Even in all these words, I cannot quite capture the intensity, the whirlwind, the journey I’ve been on. I’m so proud of this EP because it isn’t just music, it’s proof of survival. Everything has been out of control, but we still arrived in one piece. It’s done. I’m free. I’m relieved. I’m ecstatic. I’m happy. I’m motivated. I’ve loved and hated every minute of this, a feeling that I think will come as no surprise to other creatives.
I chose the invisible man as the character inspiration for my visuals, because I didn’t have the energy to dress this EP experience up. I wanted to look exactly like how I felt, grief made visible. Beaten and bruised, but with God, still standing to catch the next train, as the journey goes on.
In the year and a bit making this project I have cried more than ever before and almost drowned many times in the weight of life around me. The journey we take as small artists today is torturous, surrounded by overnight or heavily-supported success stories. We all dream of the day it’s our turn, our music being recognised and our lives changing. You question every choice, the lines between authenticity and doing what seems to win public or industry attention, what’s going to help you get the win. Every release that doesn’t do crazy numbers, land big playlists, or create something of a viral moment, chips at people’s belief in you - and your own belief, too.
Follow the Money
Artists can’t even make art for art's sake because there’s no money in that any more. The 'slow-burn', alternative artist struggles to survive in this climate, because there’s no money to develop artists over time like before. The pressure to do everything and anything just to get people to listen, and your music in front of them, mounts.
I’ve had many conversations about press and the possible ramifications of them not posting about me or my music. Not getting any media attention or focus at all, because I don’t exploit my image the way they want me to, the way I’m meant to. It’s been difficult to realise the choice to show my nipples today or just my eyes tomorrow isn’t really a choice at all. If you don’t exploit your image and life in the way you’re expected to on socials today, especially as a female artist, you’re quietly punished for having agency. I resist and reserve the right to choose when and how I utilise my image, prioritising my music and storytelling above all else, but it comes at a cost. A vicious cost for a small artist trying to achieve an already hard-to-reach goal. A cost that even those that believe in you don’t have the patience to wait to see reap future rewards.
I’m constantly at the mercy of the industry, DSPs, algorithms, networks and the shortening attention span of the general public. Every article, interview, comment, like, DM, email, and support I’ve ever received online or in-person, means more to me than words can express, especially given the choices I’ve made and the path I’ve taken. I appreciate it so much.
As a small artist, you’re paddling and creating because that’s all you know to do, but you feel like you're barely making a ripple. It’s a labour of love that keeps you going, but every so often, you get tired and can’t find the words to try anymore, or find the energy to attend another session unpaid, unrewarded. Sometimes it’s too much, and you just want to drown out the noise or just drown, until you can come up to fight again. I resurface, and occasionally, still I go under…
Songs from the Fog
The songs on this EP were born in the depths of night, tinkered in Logic, in the fog of my own life. These stories come straight from my heart. Conceptualised in my mind. Every. Single. Word. From my pen. Songwriting has been my bread and butter since I was 20 years old; It’s my whole world. The only thing I want to do in life is make music and create a beautiful life from the music I make.
To the collaborators, teams, supporters, and listeners: Thank you for being part of this journey.
My family and friends who have kept me afloat and always do, I wouldn’t be here without you.
Thank you.
For now, this is Lost The Plot.
The end of the line, where we change, grow and go on to something greater.
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