- Words Notion Staff
Fresh off the release of her soul-stirring new EP Out of the Blue, British-born artist, producer and alternative R&B wonder Lyves reflects on motherhood, healing, and how stillness became the quiet force guiding her most transformative work yet.
For an artist whose music has always tapped into the emotional undercurrents of the soul, Lyves’ new EP Out of the Blue feels like both a culmination and a quiet rebirth. Known for crafting cinematic, genre-blurring soundscapes that speak directly to the heart, the British-Italian-Australian singer, songwriter, and producer steps into a gentler, more luminous space on this project – one shaped by motherhood, healing, and hard-won clarity. Across six tracks that ripple with ambient folk, alternative R&B, and soul, Lyves documents the delicate process of self-reclamation. There’s a softness here, but also a quiet power; a tenderness that doesn’t shy away from complexity. Whether she’s honouring a family member through mental health advocacy on ‘For Eden’, or recording her son’s voice on ‘In the Morning’, ‘Out of the Blue’ is deeply personal and universally resonant.
Having first drawn global attention with her 2017 debut ‘Like Water’ and supported Coldplay on stadium tours soon after, Lyves could have chased scale. Instead, she chose stillness. Co-produced with longtime collaborators including SamTrax and Sam Crowe, the new EP doesn’t just sound like an evolution – it feels like a homecoming. Her voice remains the anchor: intimate, unhurried, and rich with emotional nuance. As Lyves puts it, these songs are “a love letter to healing,” and the EP plays like one – reaching into those quiet, reflective spaces that often go unspoken. In this interview, Lyves opens up about the life moments that shaped ‘Out of the Blue’, the role of vulnerability in her writing, and why emotional honesty remains at the centre of everything she creates.
Out Of The Blue opens with ‘For Eden’, a song rooted in your mental-health advocacy work. How did your years of supporting others inform the way you approached writing about such personal family experiences?
With ‘For Eden’, I wanted to open a window into what it really feels like to live with – or alongside – mental health struggles on a daily, visceral level. My work in mental health advocacy has been incredibly meaningful, but also raw and sometimes heartbreaking. Though the song is written from the perspective of a family member, I hope it reflects the emotional reality many people experience, especially those in psychiatric units or long-term care settings. Supporting people with severe mental health challenges, both professionally and within my own family, has shown me just how misunderstood these experiences still are. They can be incredibly isolating. With this song, I wanted to speak to that loneliness while also offering a sense of hope, healing, and the importance of compassion. I truly believe that people can heal, even from experiences that once felt unthinkable. There’s still so much work to be done in this space, but I wanted to use my voice to shed light on something that really matters to me.
Motherhood is woven through the EP, from the lullaby feel of ‘Kaleidoscope’ to your son’s voice on ‘In The Morning’. In what ways has becoming a parent reshaped your creative process and sense of artistic purpose?
Becoming a mother has coloured my world in the most vivid and beautiful way. I’ve always written from a place of heart and intention, but now my vision feels more focused, more purposeful. I hope to be an example to my son, and that desire touches every part of my life, including my music. Parenthood has also made me braver. It’s given me a sharper awareness of time and how fleeting it is, which has helped me let go of perfectionism and trust my instincts more. I try not to let my energy get tangled in second-guessing anymore – I just create and focus on the work. There’s a lot more music coming from me this year.
You describe these songs as “born out of stillness.” Practically speaking, what did stillness look like in the studio—were there new writing rituals, collaborators, or production techniques that helped you capture that calm yet “quietly fierce” energy?
With stillness, I’m referring to a deeper inner quiet – a space of truth and reflection. It wasn’t so much about a change of practice or collaboration but more about tuning into that calm place within. That energy informed everything: the lyrics, the pace of the arrangements, the way I sang. It became about listening closely – both to myself and to the songs as they unfolded.
Your debut EP Like Water explored longing, while Out Of The Blue radiates healing and self-reclamation. What internal or external turning points signalled that you were ready to move from a “blue era” into this new, lighter chapter?
I think our lives and the art we create usually reflect where we are at emotionally and spiritually. I started to recognise patterns in myself – how I was unintentionally chasing feelings of nostalgia and longing – and made a conscious decision to heal that. I’ll always be someone who feels deeply, and that’s something I honour in my work. But this time, I wanted to challenge myself – to choose joy and lightness, not just in art but in life. This EP is a reflection of that shift: a step toward reclaiming myself in a more hopeful, grounded way.
The record blends alternative R&B, cinematic soul, indie pop and ambient folk textures. How do you decide when a song needs spacious minimalism versus fuller, multi-layered production—especially when you’re both the writer and co-producer?
I’ve always believed in letting a song become what it wants to be. That was especially important with this body of work, given how personal it is. At times, I questioned whether these songs were more like diary entries than material to share with the world, but ultimately, I chose authenticity. In the studio, I followed the same instinct. Each track quietly dictated what it needed. Some called for layered, cinematic textures; others felt most powerful in their simplicity. My job was to listen and respond with care.
‘Polaris’ uses the North Star as a metaphor for finding clarity amid disillusionment. When you feel creatively lost, what are your personal ‘north stars’ – people, practices, or influences – that guide you back on course?
I’m really fortunate to have close friends and family who are wise, sensitive, and deeply supportive. When I feel lost, I have wonderful people I can turn to. I also listen to inspiring podcasts or stories from people who live with passion and purpose – it helps reroute me when I need perspective. Creatively, collaboration is a big one I’m very grateful for. Creating with people you trust and admire can remind you of what you have to bring to the table. Walking in nature and daydreaming also help – although there is a little less time for daydreaming now I’m a mummy! There’s something about being in motion though, that allows my mind to wander back to what matters. My son inspires me, too – I create for him as well.
You’ve cited Tracy Chapman, Philip Glass and 2Pac among your touchstones. Where do those seemingly contrasting influences surface on this EP, and how do you keep genre-blending from feeling forced?
I’m not sure how obviously my influences show up in my music, but they’re definitely there in spirit. I grew up drawn to artists who made me feel something deeply – whether it was 2Pac’s lyricism, Tracy Chapman’s storytelling, or Philip Glass’s emotional minimalism. What ties them together for me is that their music carries a kind of emotional gravity. I’ve always gravitated toward songs that make you think, dream, and feel. If that’s coming through in my own work, then I know I’m on the right track. When I write, I’m not thinking about genre. It’s all feeling-led. I follow the emotion and let the song reveal what it wants to be. That’s how I keep it from ever feeling forced.
Listeners often message you about how your music helps them reconnect with themselves. Does that feedback ever circle back into the writing—do you feel a responsibility, or perhaps pressure, to remain a “healing” voice?
No, I wouldn’t say I feel pressured – but I do feel grateful. I’ve always written from what feels like my highest self, and I’ll continue to do that. The subject matter will evolve, of course, but the core intention remains the same: to create from a place of authenticity, care, and depth.
Having toured stadiums with Coldplay early in your career, then retreating to craft such an intimate body of work, how has your perspective on live performance evolved? What would an ideal Out Of The Blue-era show feel like?
I’m so grateful for the live performance experiences I’ve had, especially early on. With this body of work, I imagine the live show unfolding as one long, continuous piece – almost like a theatrical experience – with moments of pause to share little stories in between. I’ve always been drawn to theatre, and I’d love to bring more of that storytelling and atmosphere into my shows.
Finally, the EP feels like a love letter to transformation. Looking ahead, what facets of yourself—or of sound—are you most excited to explore next, even if they arrive, as the title suggests, out of the blue?
I’m excited to explore a “bigger” sound next – something more expansive and even more revealing. I would love to share different facets of myself: more playfulness, more boldness. I’ve already written a few songs for what feels like the next chapter, they feel bolder, brighter – an evolution of what I’ve done so far. This new work feels both more accessible and more experimental, in different ways. I’m pushing my own boundaries as a writer and producer. Above all, I want to keep evolving as a person, and let the music reflect that growth.