Lila Drew bravely mixes vulnerability and humour on debut All The Places I Could Be

For self-confessed 'pop cynic' Drew, All The Places I Could Be indicates the familiar fragility of our early twenties, contemplating the future of livelihoods and relationships, spun through adventurous takes on indie pop tropes and nostalgic musical influences.

Harking back to early noughties chart hits by way of Natasha Bedingfield, powerful vocals remain a constant over fleeting piano or guitar riffs (“2023”) and trip hop and drum and bass beats plop and rumble underneath Drew’s humbled words. On immediate opener “Used To,” sound experiments are laid out on a platter – plonking keys, booming drum hits, hand claps and record scratches; a jumbled collage icing over Drew’s sarcastic take on her own songwriting abilities.

These playful moments abound. Five second clips from the recording process act out Drew’s creative process in transferring childhood listening to her own young adulthood, and the humorously titled “Lila’s Theme” shares only muted horns with its bombastic floorfiller namesake. There’s a confident air, but it’s far more morose when honing in on the underlying theme of vulnerability. Drew openly admits “I’m weak often” here, while “Selfish” is equally agonising in its push and pull – “I can’t help myself / I can’t tell myself,” “Let me out, let me in.” Pulsating synths and drums meld with catchy reverbed vocal melodies to emanate a lonely strobe-filled club before dipping close to hyperpop territory, and the stripped-back “Bad Juice” polishes a digital drum and guitar based electronica cut, the closest Drew gets to a certified pop hit.

Drew’s pen-to-paper letters and vocal chops take centre stage on the album’s best moments, when the sardonic persona laments over campfire chord sequences (“Lucky,” “What Are You Doing”). Highly reminiscent of Phoebe Bridgers, the repeated “Violence, violence, violence” backing vocal on “Crystal Ball” is darkly charming – but like Bridgers, Drew’s tenderness still outweighs the cheekiness when needed, like the luscious piano-ballad closer’s final “moments become moments, become moments, become moments”.

That snapshot closing refrain underpins Drew’s first full length. Short production experiments pop up for an exuberant, seat-of-your-pants confidence, but it’s at its most straightforward and autobiographical that All The Places I Could Be hits the hardest. Even the title indicates Drew’s self-awareness, but she is no doubt a whisker away from constructing a more cohesive, assured and successful personal document.