RANGE caught up with Michaela to talk about the new EP, what’s shifted in her songwriting, and what independence really looks like.

“There’s Still Time Yet” feels like a letter of reassurance — a gentle reminder to slow down and accept where you are. Can you tell us about the moment or feeling that inspired this song?

The actual scenario described in the opening verse was on a writing trip in Los Angeles in 2024—specifically driving to the beach in the Pacific Palisades to watch the sunset alone after a session. I ended up writing this song on a rainy, stormy day in Nashville with Jeremy Lister a month later. It was one of those “channelling” experiences that are rare but potent when songwriting. Landing on “there’s still time yet” as a central mantra felt like my current/future self assuring my younger self. Oddly enough, we include the line “I live my life in a rush all the time / Like a wildfire with something to prove” in verse two. A year later, I watched in horror from afar like so many as the LA wildfires raged through the Palisades. 

You’ve described this track as a kind of response to your last record, This Can’t Last Forever. In what ways do you think your songwriting — or even your outlook on life — has evolved between those two releases?

I’m incredibly proud of This Can’t Last Forever, that record taught me so much. I look back at that time, though, and I’d describe myself as quite frantic. I had such a desire to “prove it” and a near-constant feeling that I wasn’t doing enough, I wasn’t making enough happen, that I was behind. In a way, it perfectly encapsulates my mid-twenties experience. 

Since then, and with the release of THERE’S STiLL TiME YET, I’ve been trying to do this thing where I engage with the life I actually have, not half-waiting for some hypothetical life that’s a weird composite of Instagram and TikTok and warped nostalgia for some bygone music industry that I was actually never a part of.

The video’s setting at Green Auto is such a special nod to Vancouver’s underground creative scene. Why was it important for you to shoot part of the video there, and what does that space represent to you personally?

In all honesty, I had actually never been to Green Auto until I scouted it for this shoot, but of course I’d known of the venue for years and its significance within Vancouver’s scrappy and resilient underground scene. I’d been at a songwriting group at Adam Kirschner (Noble Son)’s and we were all talking about everyone’s desire for community but how we often don’t show up—and I’m totally implicating myself in this assessment. 

We got to chatting about Green Auto and how it’s such an artist-forward, community-focused space, and another member of the writing group mentioned how they’d likely be open to shooting videos there when I brought up my visualizer. When I went by to visit, it was perfect because it visually represented so much of what it’s like to be a musician trying to build a career. The fact that it’s a linen warehouse (I think?) and there’s all of this emptiness and industrial machinery and then you keep walking and there’s a stage where you’d never expect a stage to be? That’s so often what it feels like. 

You worked with director and creative force Reign Cruz for this visual, whose black-and-white framing really captures the song’s introspection. What kind of conversations did you two have about the mood or symbolism of the video before shooting?

I have loved working with Reign on these past two videos. I think he’s so talented. We’re actually family friends from back in childhood, but I didn’t really connect those dots until I started seeing some of his videography and photography from recent trips to Japan and the Philippines. Reign’s approach to a shoot is totally new for me, because we don’t really go in with a shot list or storyboard concept. We chat through the mood and emotionality of the song, and then when we show up things start to just unfold organically. He’s very perceptive and so easy to be around.

This is your first independent release on your own label, Chatty Cathy Records. How has that experience of creative ownership felt compared to releasing through a larger label like 604 Records?

It’s been daunting at times, but very exciting. I’ve always felt a strong sense of ownership over my artistry, direction, and the development of my business, and owning all the music now really gives me an opportunity to learn what pathways are possible for building a sustainable career. There were, of course, definite pros to being supported by a label, and I’ve been saying that that experience basically felt like going to music industry university on a full ride scholarship. I’m trying to take those lessons and bring a spirit of experimentation to this Chatty Cathy Records era. 

“There’s Still Time Yet” carries a hopeful melancholy — the idea that even when we feel small or lost, there’s room to start over. What do you hope listeners take away from this song and the EP as a whole?

Endings, reinvention, stalling, spinning your wheels, feeling lost, finding your groove—these are cyclical experiences that are normal and will be everlasting. I hope that listeners can use those lines “Time to move on / Time to let go / Time to start over” as a reminder of all that’s shaped them and all that’s yet to come.