Brooke Combe wants change.

Her intoxicating debut album, Dancing at the Edge of the World, is driven by a pursuit of more. More excitement than her small Scottish town offers. More joy than broken relationships provide. More from herself as an artist and a woman coming into her own.

Her soulful voice and unassuming charm have captivated music lovers across the UK. In her early twenties, she went from the bleakness of lockdown life to the high-stakes thrill of performing live. Thrust into the deep end, it was sink or swim. Combe doesn’t hide the difficulty of staying afloat. Strip away the big voice, the charm, the cheek, and you find someone who still cherishes a giggle with her mates and a hug from her family just as much as being on stage. She’s simply Brooke, a young woman figuring life out.

That journey started early. Raised on a diet of Motown, she picked up any instrument she could and pictured herself as one of The Temptations. Music was never a choice; it was an inevitability. And now, with her debut out in the world, she reflects. The opening track, This Town, crashes in with strings and percussion, rejecting small-town stagnation with signature wit and flair. Saturday nights, local lads, feeling stuck – Combe sings her way out of it with honesty and humour. But there’s no bitterness. Just a recognition that this place, for better or worse, made her.

How does a girl from Midlothian go from scrubbing toilets at a trampoline park to opening for Michael Kiwanuka and Paolo Nutini? Pure love for music. She started posting covers online, not for attention but because she couldn’t not. Even in the middle of winter, she’d wear sunglasses while singing. Passion, not performance. Once that spark hit the internet, things moved quickly. She overcame self-doubt, signed with management, and stepped into venues as the world emerged from lockdown. On the day Scotland lifted restrictions, King Tut’s in Glasgow filled with friends, family and fans who came to witness her potential in real time. This was just the start.

Behind the scenes, while the world was celebrating the return to normal, Combe was wrestling heartbreak, depression and identity. These threads run through the album with striking maturity. Her writing is sharp and often unflinchingly personal. On Leave Me The Fuck Alone, a lonely guitar riff underlines a moment of clarity. She accepts that a toxic relationship has long since expired and lets go, beautifully and brutally. There’s no space left for pretending.

Combe is a woman of conviction. That runs not just through her lyrics but in how she’s chosen to shape her career. The title track, Dancing at the Edge of the World, poured out of her after leaving a major label that didn’t let her share the music she truly wanted to. This isn’t for anyone behind a desk. She writes to connect, to uplift, to feel. Her voice glides through the song, exploring what it means to be right on the cusp of something great while knowing failure is just as close. It’s the perfect end to an album created entirely on her terms.

Even in her more vulnerable moments, like on Pieces, that same honesty remains. She’s tired, hurt, spinning in circles, dancing the same tired dance. The album captures the full spectrum – defiant, defeated, doubtful, desperate, dynamic. But always unmistakably her.

Whether you finish the album with your toes tapping or your heart aching, one thing is certain. Brooke Combe has something to say. For years, she felt voiceless. One of the few Black faces in a white, working-class area of Scotland, her presence was often overlooked. But after exploring her ancestry and facing the memories of isolation and intolerance, she knows now that her voice and her heritage matter. Perhaps it’s that history that fuels her constant wrestling with approval. Only Be Yours sounds light on the surface, but its lyrics tell a deeper story – of someone craving connection, trying to block out the sting of rejection.

Her 2023 EP, Black is the New Gold, proved she could write boss tunes. But Lanewood Pines is another level. A euphoric song about the freedom of a drunken night with someone you love, only for emotional walls to return the next day. It’s big, bold and instantly replayable.

Track by track, Combe sheds new light on universal emotions – love, longing, joy, disappointment. She shares her story in a way that feels familiar, like we’ve lived it too. This is her diary, but it could just as easily be yours. The Last Time captures that moment of truth when a relationship reaches the point of no return. It’s a final goodbye, cutting and clear, even while she admits, “If I convince myself, maybe I’ll believe.” It’s relatable, raw and real.

That’s Brooke Combe. Lyrically fearless, morally grounded and impossible to box in. She tears down those who hurt her, challenges societal ignorance and refuses to compromise her identity.

At her core, she just wants people to feel something. The same way she once felt listening to the musical greats who soundtracked her chaotic youth. Her debut is soaked in both pain and power, created with love. And as she dances at the edge of the world, anyone trying to stop her better be ready. She’s bringing soul back with her. You don’t want to miss it.