Kylee Phillips is a Michigan-native vocalist and songwriter of deeply self-exposing pop music. Armed with an arresting, emotive, laser-focused voice, and an unrivaled ear for hooks and melodic contour, Phillips has garnered cult-like acclaim in the midwest and beyond since her explosive debut EP Long Time Coming. The title is strangely apt, as Phillips was a beloved hidden gem in the Detroit scene for over a decade before materializing as a fresh face and urgent new presence in the indie/pop world.

Kylee’s anthemic, sonically dense songs alchemize the sincerity of a midwest heart with the prowess and unabashed indulgence usually reserved for coastal voices. Here listeners find the body-cleansing catharsis of femme-pop luminaries like Muna and Maggie Rogers, intertwined with the heartstring-pulling, hands-raised surrender of a worship conference. Every track makes equal space for the tears and the pulse-pounding we didn’t realize we needed so badly.

In a world with no shortage of self-help sad-babe pop, Phillips weaves together a sensual, articulate, and unpretentiously therapeutic soundtrack for the lives we live but can’t always verbalize. She lends us an experiential wisdom that could only come from a massive heart that’s seen a lot of garbage and emerged transformed and immovable.