Julia Jade Delivers Compelling EP '(extra)ordinary'

Julia Jade’s (extra)ordinary is a radiant paradox: a record that thrives in its small confessions while simultaneously reaching for theatrical grandeur. 

Across seven tracks, Jade threads the line between self-deprecation and self-discovery, creating a song cycle that feels diaristic yet deeply performative. Her storytelling invites the listener into moments of awkwardness, candour, and triumph, and in doing so, captures the multifaceted nature of identity itself. This is music that doesn’t shy away from fragility, but instead reframes it as a kind of flamboyant strength.

Opening with “nobody knows,” Jade sets a tone of vulnerability that is at once hushed and cinematic. The piano-led arrangement is stripped back, but the delivery brims with emotional colour—her phrasing stretching between restraint and release. It’s an overture of sorts, signalling the intimacy to come while leaving space for the theatrical flourishes that pepper the rest of the EP. By the close of the track, the listener is firmly within her orbit, compelled by both the tenderness of her craft and the drama of her vision.

The title track, “(extra)ordinary,” is where Jade crystallises her duality. Its buoyant hook plays with contradiction, turning the mundane into something magnetic. The same holds true on “missin’ out,” a single that brims with jangling immediacy and earworm charm. These are songs that balance accessibility with artistry, their melodies deceptively simple but their emotional resonance enduring. Jade’s skill lies not in grandeur for grandeur’s sake, but in recognising the epic potential of everyday life.

On sharper-edged offerings like “ex’s bday,” Jade leans into her wry sensibility, reimagining personal detritus as material ripe for pop alchemy. Her wit shines, but never overshadows the core of sincerity underpinning her work. It’s this tonal balance—playful yet poignant—that sets her apart. Much like the artists she recalls—Ingrid Michaelson’s quirk, Rilo Kiley’s narrative sharpness, or Bo Burnham’s self-aware candour—Jade wields humour as both armour and invitation.

Midway through, the record deepens into reflective territory. Ballads unfold with cinematic sweep, their scope widening without sacrificing intimacy. Here, Jade’s theatrical background feels most present, her vocal phrasing carrying a sense of stagecraft even in the quietest moments. These songs play out like miniature vignettes, each one a distillation of a diary entry reimagined as theatre, where the personal is refracted into something shared and universal.

By the time the EP closes, Jade has achieved what its title promises: to render the ordinary as extraordinary. (extra)ordinary isn’t about perfection, but about the authenticity found in contradiction, humour, and vulnerability. In embracing her messiness, Jade has crafted a collection that resonates far beyond her own narrative. It’s a record that whispers and winks, consoles and confronts, but above all, insists that the most compelling art comes from embracing the fullness of being human.