Clara Le Bouar delivers "Last Song"

Not only does Clara Le Bouar's "Last Song" fulfill its purpose as the EP's closer, it drags you to the emotional shoreline and leaves you there, heart cracked, breath stolen, gaping at the quiet roar of the unknown. In "Last Song," Clara Le Bouar doesn't shut a door; she enfolds us in the sound of letting go. It's raw, cinematic, and achingly human. This almost claustrophobic crescendo mimics the last seconds of the explosive relationship. 

The production thickens, the tempo quickens, and just when you feel you've got a handle on where you are, the mix floods with layers until you're gasping for air. Softly plucked guitar and a quiet hush of seaside sounds open Clara, and it becomes immediately apparent that the stage is not being set with overzealous grandiosity but with great intimacy. It is like being on the shore, the cold sand touching your toes, where even silence speaks louder than words.

Above some apprehensive drums thudding beneath her, the voice of Clara becomes a vehicle. It's delicate and vaporous at first, then distorted fitfully and wickedly by eruptions of auto-tune that do not seem like a trick but an emotional interference. For the chorus, her voice is distorted into something otherworldly, as if reaching for clarity even as the heaviness of goodbye drags it under. Clara doesn't write from her side of the heartbreak, but in the voice of her ex, the one who still loves but tussles with the undertow of mental health issues and societal prescriptions. It's a minor gesture of fellow-feeling that deepens the blow and turns "Last Song" into more of a short film than a song.