Shayla the Artist Serves Up Burnt Toast And It’s Exactly What We Needed

Some artists polish their music until it’s lifeless. Shayla the Artist does the opposite. She leans into the mess, the flaws, the parts of life that don’t look perfect on Instagram. Her upcoming LP, Burnt Toast (dropping August 22), takes that raw honesty and cooks it into something bold, resilient, and surprisingly nourishing. This isn’t just another R&B record; it’s a survival guide dressed up in grooves.

The title Burnt Toast might sound like a kitchen mishap, but Shayla makes it a metaphor for life itself. When you mess up, when plans fall apart, relationships sour, or life just serves you bullshit, you can either throw it away or scrape off the burnt parts and keep eating. That philosophy runs through every track on the album. It’s not about perfection. It’s about resilience, transformation, and finding joy in what remains.

Musically, Shayla blends her signature R&B core with hip-hop grit and 90s nostalgia. For the first time, she unveils her rap chops, sliding seamlessly between honey-smooth melodies and sharp-edged bars. The result is a record that feels like a diary and a declaration at the same time.

Burnt Toast isn’t afraid of complexity. It dives straight into it. Across 10 tracks, Shayla explores the multi-layered realities of womanhood: confidence, heartbreak, healing, community, and the quiet strength that comes from picking yourself up again and again.

Tracks like “Power” and “GOAT” radiate self-assurance, reclaiming space for women who are too often told to shrink themselves. On the flip side, “Avoidant” and “No Good” tap into the vulnerability of messy relationships and self-doubt, because empowerment without honesty is just another mask.

And then there’s “Woman” (feat. Sorin Vibee), a standout collaboration that puts women at the center of the story, emphasizing connection and solidarity over competition. Shayla doesn’t just tell her own story; she amplifies others, proving that her art is as much about community as it is about self-expression.

Fans who’ve been following Shayla since Sensitivity to Light and Night Ride Home will notice the evolution immediately. Where her earlier projects experimented with sound and vision, complete with short films to expand the storytelling, Burnt Toast feels like an arrival. It’s sharper, braver, and unapologetically experimental.

The closing track even swerves into house music, a bold pivot that hints at future directions. It’s Shayla saying: Don’t box me in. She’s building her artistry on her own terms, genre walls be damned.

What makes Burnt Toast hit harder is that it isn’t just art; it’s advocacy. Beyond her music, Shayla is passionate about women’s health, especially the safety and well-being of Black women in healthcare. That perspective bleeds into her songs, reminding listeners that music can be both personal expression and a rallying cry. It’s not activism packaged for clout. It’s a lived experience turned into art.

“I want listeners to feel inspired to scrape off the burnt parts of their own lives and find joy in what remains, knowing that they are not alone in their struggle.”

That’s the heart of Burnt Toast. It doesn’t sugarcoat the struggle, but it refuses to let the struggle be the whole story. The album celebrates survival, transformation, and the messy, imperfect beauty of growth.

With Burnt Toast, Shayla the Artist proves she’s not just making music, she’s making a statement. She’s unafraid to be messy, unafraid to be real, and unafraid to evolve in public. The record is equal parts diary, manifesto, and groove-laden therapy session.

It’s confident without being cocky. Vulnerable without being weak. Nostalgic without being stuck in the past. And above all, it’s necessary.

The title Burnt Toast is such a vivid metaphor. What’s the most “burnt toast” moment in your life that shaped this record, and how did you flip it into art instead of letting it break you?

It has to be my experience with pregnancy loss.  I always envisioned myself as a mom, but I never anticipated the challenges I would face along the way.  That journey brought a whirlwind of emotions, heartbreak, confusion, and vulnerability.  As an artist, I often hesitate to share this part of my story.  I get caught up in my head, wondering if anyone really wants to hear about loss and grief.  It doesn’t feel “sexy” or glamorous; it’s raw and heavy.  But I’ve come to realize that there’s power in vulnerability.  Instead of letting this experience break me, I channeled that pain into my music.

Writing became a way for me to process my feelings and connect with others who might be going through something similar.  I’ve learned that sharing these moments, no matter how difficult, can resonate deeply.  It’s not just about the highs; It’s about embracing the full spectrum of human experience.  Through my art, I have created a space for healing, both for myself and listeners.

This album is your boldest yet. You’re singing, rapping, experimenting with house beats. Was there a moment in the studio when you realized, “Yeah, I’m not holding back anymore”?

Yes!  It is my boldest yet! (Laugh) This album represents a turning point for me.  There were many moments in the studio when I thought, “I’m not holding back.”  I realized I didn’t want to play it safe or stick strictly to what people expect from me.  While R&B is at the core of who I am and what I love, I wanted to push those boundaries a bit.

I experimented with singing and rapping, and it felt fresh and exciting.  It was important for me to stay true to my style while also going for it in a way that felt authentic.  I want my music to reflect growth and evolution, and this album embodies that.  I want listeners to feel the energy and passion behind each track, and maybe even find something new to connect with.

You spotlight other women on this record, like Sorin Vibee on “Woman.” Why was collaboration with other female voices so important for this project, and what did those sessions feel like?

Collaboration with other female voices was incredibly important for this project.  My experience creating with women is distinctly different, and I’ll be honest—it’s often challenging.  Women are layered emotionally, and we tend to pour our whole selves into our artistry.  I really push those I work with to dig deep, and I had to go back and forth a few times with Sorin Vibee on her verse for “Woman.”  I knew she was capable of so much more, and I wanted to bring that power out of her for this anthem.  She’s a phenomenal artist and poet, and I felt that intensity just waiting to be unleashed.  And she absolutely delivered!

Then there’s my song “No Time” with Nomvula.  Oh my gosh! She sings with such passion, heart, and cultural richness.  When I first heard her part (which is in the Zulu language, Nomvula is from South Africa),  I cried.  You can feel every note and word in your chest.  Whether you understand the language or not, you can feel it!!  It’s a beautiful testament to how women can connect and uplift each other through music. This album isn’t just about showcasing my voice; it’s about celebrating the incredible power that comes when women come together in artistry.

Special shoutout to all the other female artists who contributed to this project: Kai Crawford, Makeda Bullock-Floyd, and Arianne DeLeon, who provided fire background vocals, and Diana Chow for engineering some studio sessions.

Your music has always carried layers of vulnerability, but on this album, it feels matched with even more confidence. How do you balance showing strength without hiding the cracks?

I appreciate that observation!  Balancing strength and vulnerability is a delicate dance for me.  On this album, I aimed to embrace both sides of that spectrum.  I’ve always believed that true strength lies in being open about our cracks and imperfections, our burnt edges (laugh).  They’re part of what makes us human, and acknowledging them allows for deeper connections with listeners.

This time around, I felt more confident in my voice and story.  I wanted to show that it’s okay to be strong while still being vulnerable.  It’s about owning those “cracks” and not letting them define me.  Instead, they become a part of my narrative, adding depth to my music.  I’ve learned that sharing my struggles can actually amplify my strength, and that balance creates a more authentic experience for everyone involved.  It’s a celebration of resilience, and I hope it resonates with listeners who may be navigating their own journeys.

Beyond the music, you’ve been outspoken about advocating for Black women’s health. How do you see your artistry and activism fueling each other, and do you think R&B is ready for more artists to get real about issues like that?

Advocating for Black women’s health is incredibly important to me, and I see my artistry and activism as deeply intertwined.  My music serves as a platform to bring awareness to these issues, and I believe that art can spark conversations and inspire change.  When I create, I’m not just expressing my personal experiences; I’m also amplifying the voices of those who may not have the same platform.

R&B has always been about storytelling and emotional truth, and I think it’s absolutely ready for more artists to get real about important issues like health equity.  There’s a rich history of addressing social matters in music, and I feel a responsibility to continue that legacy.  By sharing my journey and advocating for awareness, I hope to inspire others to do the same.  It’s a bout breaking down the stigma and encouraging conversations that can lead to healing and empowerment for Black women.