ALEIA explores the soft violence of vulnerability on debut EP 'Public Humiliation'

Every so often, a debut arrives that feels less like an introduction and more like a reckoning. Perth’s ALEIA has crafted one of those moments with 'Public Humiliation', delivering a five-track collection that dissects love’s cruelties and the quiet ache that follows with devastating precision.

From the first note, ALEIA invites us into a world where every sigh, hesitation, and silence holds weight. The collection opens with 'Had Your Fun', a slow unravelling of denial. Guided by solemn piano chords, it moves like a bruise blooming under the skin. Her voice carries the kind of honesty that can only come from living the story you’re telling.

On 'Pretty When I Cry', she leans into the ache, draping her vulnerability in airy guitar lines and hushed percussion. It’s an exhale of exhaustion and yearning, tracing the emotional limbo of loving someone who will never meet you where you stand. While the title track feels like the emotional centrepiece, a ghostly waltz that exposes the uncomfortable truth of being seen at your weakest.

But it’s the closing moment, 'Holy Water', that cements this debut as something truly profound. The song unfolds like a prayer, slowly building from intimacy into something near-sacred. The use of body percussion and choir harmonies transforms personal pain into collective catharsis.

'Public Humiliation' turns shame into art, as ALEIA gives loneliness a name, a melody, and finally, a sense of peace. It’s heartbreak reimagined as grace, and one of the most quietly powerful debuts of the year.