If Calyn ’s debut EP Better Left Unsaid were a perfume, it would smell like spilled red wine, rose petals on cold tile, and the last goodbye text you never sent. It’s emotional. It's curated. And it’s just a little bit dangerous.
The indie R&B artist has quietly built her world brick by velvet brick—moody soundscapes, slow-burn vocals, and songwriting that reads like diary entries with better lighting. But Better Left Unsaid isn’t interested in playing it quiet anymore. It wants to be felt.
Each track flirts with collapse in its own way. “Eleven 03” is all vulnerability and vampy restraint, like walking through a breakup in heels. It's about being halfway into a thing—half-loved, half-hurt, but fully aware. Then there’s “What If?”—a stripped-back head trip of self-doubt and fantasy, scored by your inner monologue at 1:42 a.m. That voice in your head just got a mic.
But the real core of this project might just be “Only Me Interlude,” a voice note turned meditation. It’s unfiltered and intimate, like she forgot to auto-tune her heartbreak. It’s not even trying to impress—it just is. And it lands harder because of that.
Calyn’s sister Dyli shows up on “Sliding Thru The City,” a song that’s part lo-fi movie soundtrack, part late-night loop in your backseat. It's vibey, sure, but it also hits deep—the emotional math of knowing a relationship is bad, but it’s yours.
Closing track “make u miss me” is no longer about love—it's about legacy. Calyn exits the project like a girl walking out of smoke in heels, chin up, mascara perfect.