When you listen to Britt Connors’ Exhale, it feels like a release after holding your breath, that moment when a person finds their voice again—both literally and metaphorically. Standing at the threshold between past and present, Britt seems to be saying, “Now I’m ready.” She returns to us after a long, involuntary silence, filled with new energy and honest vulnerability.

photo by @brittconnorsmusic

Let’s get more specific. Britt Connors is someone whose pauses speak louder than words, where the lack of “polish” only enhances this effect. You can clearly hear it in her music, and especially in her singing. When she sings, it’s like a transparent stream—you can see it flow, you feel its coolness, but you can never truly touch it. Her voice could melt away like steam over a hot cup of tea. Yet, this fleeting quality only draws you in more. Her voice has rough edges that make you listen closely because every word carries a story. The Exhale EP is something more intimate, almost sacred. Britt doesn’t sing about triumph but about acceptance—about reaching that fragile peace within yourself.

I didn’t expect Exhale to be so personal—the tracks here seem like carefully cut-out pieces from a diary never meant for anyone else’s eyes. Britt recorded this EP after a difficult, almost transformative period in her life, and it feels like she’s documenting this rebirth, strange as that may sound.

The opening bars of No Saint hooked me instantly. Guitars, brass, and muted keys create an atmosphere wrapped in a golden light. Britt Connors guides me through this swaying, soft melody with an effortless confidence. In the chorus, the rhythm shifts, almost as if to remind us that change is something natural, organic. This simple metaphor supports her so subtly that you feel life itself pulsing through her melodies.

photo by @brittconnorsmusic

Take Your Own Ride is an inner call to follow your own path and be true to yourself. The steady rhythm pushes forward, while the nostalgic tone of Britt’s voice invites a glance back—not with regret, but with warmth. Here, the blend of pop and a subtle touch of country creates a surprising balance. Britt seems to lead, without rushing or demanding that I follow. This is simply her song, her journey, shared with anyone willing to stop and listen.

Hummingbird is a quiet love confession; its romantic guitar and inspiring vocals set a mood perfect for warm, secluded evenings. The vocal harmonies add a light spark, and the cinematic melody makes you imagine this song playing over slow-motion scenes in a romance film.

August Passes tells a different story, filled with a soft autumnal mood. Here, a country ballad blends with subtle jazz notes, creating a meditative and almost tranquil sound. The track feels like a warm memory you carry with you, and the lyrics deepen this effect, inviting reflection, letting go of time, and simply enjoying the moment.

Tilting at Windmills brings something fresh, new, and unexpected. In the watery percussion, the barely audible “droplets” in the background, and the hints of keys woven discreetly into the overall pattern, there’s a mix of stubbornness and softness.

Then comes Exhale—the final track, the last page of a book you’ve long wanted to finish but didn’t want to end. Here, Britt finds an unexpected strength. I hear the bass, pounding like an echo of everything she’s been through. In each drumbeat, in every line of melody, you can tell: she’s here; she’s endured. This track doesn’t say goodbye, but it releases—it offers the listener a strange, almost bright sense of closure.

I’m struck by her ability to navigate this balance—between strength and fragility, between soft chords and hidden tension. I can’t call it folk, though there’s folk in it. I can’t call it jazz, though jazz hints flash here and there. Britt doesn’t fit into genres, and that’s her triumph—she just sounds the way she sounds. Exhale isn’t so much an album as it is a moment frozen in time, something you want to return to because it reminds you that sometimes a pause and silence can speak louder than any shout.

Usually, I focus on lyrics, on melodies, but here it’s her voice that captivates. It sounds slightly muted—not from a lack of confidence, but rather a conscious choice. Britt isn’t trying to entertain us, and I appreciate that. She doesn’t burst through the door or shout about her return. This is her music, her voice, her breath, so to speak, and she doesn’t intend to cater to any expectations. Listening to Exhale, I feel as though I see Britt Connors on the threshold of a new chapter: she isn’t chasing grand finales; she simply chooses to be herself, and in that lies her true strength.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub