The premise alone deserves a round of applause. Her previous single, "Boys Club", sat in the wreckage of a relationship, written for a friend whose great love chose the giddy freedom of being young and unattached. Where lesser songwriters would wallow for a full album, Blue wrote the sequel within the week. "Boys Club" was the hurt. "Sha La La" is the fantasy of what comes next: he wants her back, and she's already having a much nicer time without him. It is the pop equivalent of spotting your ex across a crowded room just as you've been told you look incredible, and having the good grace to keep walking.

Musically, it's all sunshine. Breezy guitar skips along as though it's never heard of consequences, while a brass section brightens the whole thing like someone opening the curtains. Ben Hunt and Christopher Buckland, Wellington's go-to horn men, play with a swagger that suggests they know exactly how much fun they're having. Then there's the doo-wop-flavoured refrain, the titular "sha la la", a hook so simple and so stubborn that it will be lodged in your head by the second chorus and will refuse to leave by Thursday. It's the sound of a bygone era, borrowed with affection rather than reverence, and pointed squarely at the present.

Credit is due to producer Toby Lloyd of Tiny Triumph Recordings, who understands the song's central joke: that joy can be the most devastating weapon in the arsenal. The production gleams but never cloys, and Benny Tones' mastering keeps it warm and full-bodied. It would have been easy to let such a glossy confection tip into pastiche. Instead there's a lived-in warmth here, a sense that the retro trimmings are serving the song rather than the other way round.

And what of Blue herself? She emerged only in late 2025, which makes the confidence on display faintly absurd. Her voice carries the kind of candour that can't be taught, and she sings of regret turned to triumph with a knowing smile rather than a sneer. There's no bitterness here, only the serene satisfaction of someone who has glowed up and noticed. Her lyrics are emotionally frank without ever being maudlin, and her gift for storytelling through melody, a skill sorely undervalued in this age of disposable hooks, is the real secret weapon.

"Sha La La" also promises more to come. It is set to close a four-track EP following one protagonist from heartbreak into whatever lies beyond, and if this is the final chapter, the preceding ones have a great deal to live up to. That is a thrilling prospect, because it suggests an artist thinking in stories and arcs rather than streaming-friendly scraps.

Pop music has always been at its best when it hides something real inside something delightful. January Blue understands this instinctively. "Sha La La" is a sunlit, brass-brightened, thoroughly irresistible kiss-off, and the sweetest revenge imaginable: she doesn't even look back.