EBBA Turns Grief Into Something Strangely Light on “Somewhere”

A lot of artists claim they’re redefining jazz right now. Most of them are just repackaging it. EBBA is one of the few that are actually doing something with it.

The NYC-based, Swedish-born singer-songwriter and pianist comes with a real foundation. Berklee Presidential Scholar, collaborator with Jon Batiste, working across projects like Dana and Alden, and stepping into rooms with producers tied to names like Solange and Clairo.

Somewhere, her latest EP, strips all of that back and lands somewhere much more personal. The project is rooted in the loss of her brother Otto, who passed away from cancer when she was four years old. That kind of backstory usually leads to something heavy, dense, almost suffocating. Instead, this feels… light. Not in a dismissive way. In a way that’s almost unsettling.

EBBA doesn’t build this EP around grief as a spectacle. She treats it like something that exists quietly in the background of a life that kept moving. The result is a project that feels more like memory than mourning. Sonically, this is where she separates herself. Jazz is clearly the backbone, but it never feels technical or performative. There’s no moment where she’s trying to prove how skilled she is, even though she easily could. The piano is minimal, precise, and emotionally loaded without ever becoming dramatic. Space is used better than most artists use full arrangements. Her voice follows the same logic. Soft, controlled, and intentional. She doesn’t reach for big vocal moments because she doesn’t need to. The restraint is what makes it hit.

“Letter to an old soul” sets the tone early, built around questions aimed at a future version of herself. It’s reflective without being nostalgic, almost like she’s documenting uncertainty in real time. Then “Orosfro” shifts into anxiety about the future, decisions, and the quiet panic that comes with not knowing where life is heading. That’s where the EP really starts to land.

Because it’s not just about loss. It’s about time.

The past sits next to the future the entire way through. Her brother’s absence exists alongside questions about who she’s becoming, where she’s going, and what life is supposed to look like now. That contrast gives the project tension without ever forcing it.

And that’s the thing. Nothing here feels forced.

In an era where vulnerability is often packaged and over-explained, “Somewhere” feels almost uncomfortable in how natural it is. There’s no attempt to guide the listener on how to feel. No dramatic arcs, no overproduction, no emotional hand-holding. Just moments.

“Somewhere is about losing someone you love, and I hope these songs can bring comfort and hope to anyone who needs it," EBBA explains. That intention comes through without being pushed. The EP doesn’t try to heal you. It just exists in a way that might.

EBBA isn’t trying to reinvent jazz with this project. She’s doing something more difficult. She’s making it feel human, current, and quietly devastating without ever raising her voice.

And that restraint is exactly why it stays with you.