"Really Yours" by Leah Gurman is a tender, heartfelt gem that feels like a quiet confession wrapped in warm indie-folk packaging. Released as a standalone single in late 2025 (with whispers of it tying into Gurman's upcoming EP project), this track marks a subtle evolution for the emerging singer-songwriter, whose previous work has leaned into introspective acoustic vibes with a touch of bedroom pop intimacy.
Leah Gurman, a New York-based artist (with roots that give her music a grounded, storytelling edge), delivers "Really Yours" with a voice that's soft yet assured—think a blend of early Phoebe Bridgers vulnerability and the gentle earnestness of Julien Baker. The production is minimalist and effective: fingerpicked guitar, subtle reverb-drenched keys, a light brush on the snare, and occasional swells of harmony that never overwhelm the emotion at the core.
Lyrically, the song explores the raw ache of unrequited or complicated devotion—"I'm really yours, even if you're not mine"—turning what could be cliché into something painfully specific and relatable. Lines about late-night texts, shared silences, and the fear of letting go land with quiet precision, avoiding melodrama in favor of honest reflection. It's the kind of track that hits hardest on a rainy evening drive or when you're alone with your thoughts, evoking that bittersweet mix of surrender and quiet strength.Sonically, it's restrained but richly textured—the kind of song that grows on you with every listen as small details emerge: a faint string pad in the bridge, the way her voice cracks just slightly on the chorus hook.
It's not flashy or radio-bait; instead, it's deeply personal, the sort of music that feels like it's speaking directly to you. In a year already flooded with polished pop and high-energy anthems, "Really Yours" stands out for its sincerity and subtlety. Gurman proves she can craft something emotionally potent without needing big builds or guest features—just her voice, her guitar, and real feelings.
If you're into artists who prioritize vulnerability over virality (think Lizzy McAlpine, Holly Humberstone, or early Gracie Abrams), this is a must-add to your late-night playlist. A beautiful, understated standout that lingers long after it ends.
Stream it on Spotify below (where Gurman's monthly listeners are steadily climbing into the low thousands) or snag it on Bandcamp for that direct artist support. If this is a taste of what's coming next from her, 2026 is looking promising. Keep an eye on Leah Gurman—she's got that rare ability to make quiet feel powerful.
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