Her second EP captures life’s tender, clumsy turbulence in a stunning new collection of songs.

Pem has always written material that feels like it’s been gently unearthed rather than composed, brushed free from soil, time and memory. Her new EP ‘other ways of landing’ continues to nurture her relationship with the natural world while deepening her exploration of grief, love and separation. Perched vulnerably on a tree branch, she reaches out toward the unknown searching for connection, for signs from those she’s lost, and for meaning in the world growing around her.

The title track immediately suspends us between intimacy and distance. Flying a kite becomes the central image: one hand tethered to string, the other left open to hold a lover’s cigarette. Pem captures the quiet labour of making yourself available to someone you love, of keeping something airborne even as connection slips away. “We don’t talk anymore”, she insists, but the reminders remain long after they are gone.

‘m4 windy’ quickly shifts into motion, tracing the emotional weight of journeys between home and elsewhere, and how they inevitably come to an end. Stormy weather mirrors the changing seasons that live within her – restless and unresolved. Here, loss is treated as a landscape: shifting, cyclical, and very much alive. Her lyricism feels rooted in forest floors and lapping tide pools, where you sense every breeze.

Delivered almost as a prayer, ‘to earth will you tell me when we land’ hovers between heaven and earth, widening our gaze to the atmosphere itself. The piano begins with a childlike innocence before giving way to trembling vocals, “Out with the lights, out of your life”. A relationship that’s been abruptly snuffed out, she begs her subject to “come back to earth”, comparing this love to a solar system – separate bodies moving symbiotically, even when far apart.

‘easily moved’ is the most emotionally exposed moment. Pem’s high, quivering vocals feel confessional as she admits how sensitive she is to what’s around her, both in body and mind. She reflects on how easily emotion can pass through her, an ability that she feels in tune with now more than ever.

The closing track ‘milk, blue’ turns its attention upward for the final time. An ode to the moon, it captures the ache of seeing beauty just out of reach: “You’re the new moon that I can’t get to this afternoon.” The universe often prevents us from fully accessing those we love that we have parted ways with. Mysterious and expansive, there is connection within distance – the wondering, the longing. Yet the earth and sky remain separated, her landing incomplete.

Grief can linger, but it does not always have to weigh things down. Instead, Pem considers what it means to fall back to earth after loss, and whether landing is ever quite the same twice. ‘other ways of landing’ does not offer neat conclusions. It coaxes us into sitting with uncertainty and learning how to deal with it. Landing can be tender, clumsy, and sometimes endlessly postponed, but the journey of loving one another is worth the turbulence.