Lucetta
Songwriter who treats every song like a formulation — measured, intentional, and designed to linger. Part poet, part perfumer, part provocateur.
Her work lives at the intersection of confessional storytelling and sonic craftsmanship, drawing from jazz, pop, and the quiet drama of everyday moments.
How it's blended
Warm, close-mic intimacy with occasional operatic flourishes. Whispered confessions that build to declarations.
Minimal arrangements. Piano, strings and electronic textures layered with apothecary precision.
Witty, literary, exact. Every metaphor earns its place. Every hook has a hidden meaning.
A framework that makes people slow down
"I wanted a framework that made people slow down with music again. An apothecary doesn't rush. You walk in, you describe what you're feeling, and someone blends something just for that moment."
"Each song is a formulation. The themes are the ingredients, the production is the method, and the listening experience is the remedy. I don't make background music — I make prescriptions."
— Lucetta
A tour of the shop
The Counter
Marble top, brass scales, a ledger of everything ever dispensed. Nobody here asks for a genre — you say what's wrong and something gets weighed out. Every consultation ends with a bottle and a line of directions.
The Cabinet
Walnut, nine compartments to a wall, each lit from inside in the colour of what it holds. Sixty-three bottles filed by ingredient family — Love, Sad, Independent, Mischief, Introspective — and the glass is never dusty.
The Back Lab
Upright piano, one microphone, a wall of unlabelled jars. Poems written in pencil — hospital corridors, empty suitcases, Christmas at the Bridge — become doses here before anyone else hears them.
The Archive Drawer
Batch records going back to 2016, each with a date, a method and — where there was one — the person it was prescribed for. Nothing is thrown out; some bottles are simply marked still distilling.
Highlights
Works in progress
Behind the scenes, unlabelled jars, and life between formulations.