Laura Evans Out Of The Dark


Tracks: Wherever You Are; Superman; Honest; ATM; Nobody Loves Me Like You; What I'm Made Of; Heartbreaker; Just A Little Bit More; Always & Forever; I'll Be The One; Out Of The Dark; ...Hear Me Out

Label: Laura Evans


Laura Evans’ Out Of The Dark feels like a record caught between dusk and dawn — all the ache of night wrapped in the shimmer of something brighter trying to break through. It’s an album about survival, but not the cinematic kind; this is the kind of endurance that happens quietly, in the moments when you’re still humming through heartbreak because the silence feels worse.

Where some modern blues-rock records chase grit as a performance, Evans treats it like gravity — something that pulls everything down to the emotional core. Her voice is both velvet and wildfire: warm enough to soothe, fierce enough to scorch. Every note feels lived-in, a little frayed around the edges, like a favourite jacket that’s been through too many storms.

The production walks a careful line between polish and pulse. There’s muscle here — the guitars bite, the drums land heavy — but they never drown out the vulnerability that threads through Evans’ delivery. Tracks like What I'm Made Of and ATM smoulder with quiet resilience, turning feelings into momentum. Meanwhile, Hear Me Out catches her in a more reflective light, her voice tracing the outlines of regret without quite giving in to it.

Lyrically, Evans doesn’t posture. She writes from the middle of the mess, not the safe distance of hindsight. There’s no clean catharsis, just the push and pull between defiance and doubt — the way real healing tends to sound. And that honesty is what gives Out Of The Dark its weight. Even when the choruses soar, there’s always a flicker of shadow underneath, a reminder that light only matters because of what it reveals.

Out Of The Dark doesn’t shout for your attention. It opens its hands and lets you step inside, slow and unguarded. By the time it ends, you realise it’s less an album about overcoming pain than about learning how to live alongside it — and finding, somehow, that the view from the shadows can still be beautiful.