Karina Stone sits in the aftermath on ‘Killer Instinct’.

Leeds-based emerging artist Karina Stone is stepping into a moody, soft-lit spotlight with her second EP Killer Instinct. Across its five tracks, the project unfolds like a series of late-night voice notes saved but never sent. For anyone drawn to the quietly confessional side of indie-folk, Stone’s delivery feels instantly familiar, grounding heavy, looping emotions in a soft, unassuming honesty that makes them hard to outrun.

The EP moves at its own pace, never pushing past the feeling. It lives entirely in the aftermath—that hazy, static-filled space after something ends where thoughts just loop and feelings refuse to settle. On ‘Cold Call,’ Stone captures the magnetic pull of a connection that should be dead but isn't. It’s the tension of knowing you should let go and failing anyway, caught in that unsettling moment of answering the phone even when you already know it’s a mistake.

‘Weatherman’ captures the volatility that comes before the fall—that feeling of being pulled toward someone while bracing for impact. Carried by soft piano, it feels suspended and hard to escape, lingering in motion. The title track picks up where that leaves off, confronting the instinct to sabotage what’s good before it has the chance to hurt.

By the time the EP reaches ‘Near Death Experience,’ the intensity has faded into something heavy, but spent. The song stays where you keep going, even when you’re worn down. Stone lets the music sit in that space, hazy and unresolved. 

Stone has shared that writing is her way of putting emotion onto paper rather than letting it live in her head, and that intention runs through every track here. Much like the early work of Gracie Abrams, Killer Instinct holds an intimacy that never feels forced. It’s a quiet introduction from an artist who understands the power of what’s left unsaid.