Cloe Wilder Faces the Weight of Growing Up on Her Shimmering, Soul-Baring EP “Life’s A B*tch”
In the lush overlap of indie pop and Americana-folk, Cloe Wilder has always found a peculiar sweetness in sadness. With the release of her third EP “Life’s A B*tch,” the 19-year-old artist delivers a coming-of-age confession — not in whispers, but in clear-eyed, cinematic detail.
Each of the six tracks on “Life’s A B*tch” feels like a handwritten postcard from the last two years of her life. It’s a body of work threaded together by change, grief, hope, and the small sparkling epiphanies that sneak up in the middle of it all.
This EP covers a lot of bases,” Wilder shares, “and it truly feels like an embodiment of these last two years.”
And embodiment it is. Whether it’s the soft ache of “Tallahassee,” written during a fragile move from Florida to Los Angeles, or the defiant pulse of “Heavyweight Champion,” Wilder balances rawness with restraint. She wields vulnerability like a blade, but never once cuts too deep for comfort.
“Cigarette” — the breakout single — radiates a mischievous glow. It’s the kind of track that begs to be soundtracked behind the wheel, windows down, chasing dusk down a back road. “Making the most gorgeous indie pop that you cannot help but love,” BBC Radio 1 gushed — and they’re not wrong. There’s a rebellious hum beneath its surface, a metaphorical flick of the lighter that lights more than just the end of a smoke.
But the EP isn’t all flash and haze. Wilder excels in the quiet, too. “Tallahassee” mourns what’s left behind, its gentle guitar strums mirroring the ache of stepping away from a version of yourself that no longer fits. Meanwhile, “Heavyweight Champion” bites back, dark and deliberate — a scorcher for anyone who’s ever had to muscle their way through emotional gravity.
Since her debut at 14, Wilder has carved out a space where beauty and pain can dance together. Teenage Lullabiesintroduced her as a storyteller; Life’s A Bitch confirms her as a force. She’s cited Lana Del Rey as a core influence, and it shows — not just in the melancholy glamour, but in the poetic defiance. Yet Cloe’s voice is her own: whispery yet grounded, delicate yet knowing.
“Life’s A B*tch” doesn’t wallow in the title’s cynicism. Instead, it flips it on its head. It’s a reminder that while life can bruise you, it also builds you. And in Cloe Wilder’s world, those bruises shimmer like constellations.
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