Avery Friedman’s debut album, New Thing (April 18th), is a poignant exploration of memory, emotion, and self-reflection. From the moment the album begins, it feels like stepping into someone’s private, reflective, and deeply intimate personal journal. Through a collection of melancholic and downtempo tracks, Avery invites one into moments of uncertainty, nostalgia, and quiet self-discovery. She creates an introspective atmosphere that resonates with anyone who has grappled with the passage of time.
Recorded in a Brooklyn basement with collaborators James Chrisman (Sister.) and Felix Walworth (Told Slant, Florist), New Thing embraces an organic, instinctive sound. The album’s feel is fluid and unstructured, with each song unfolding in an unfiltered and natural way. Tracks like “Biking Standing” and “Somewhere to Go” express feelings of anxiety and restlessness, with Avery’s soft and nuanced vocals weaving seamlessly through delicate guitar and synth arrangements. Capturing the rawness of emotion in a way that feels deeply personal and vulnerable was created by the decision to forgo strict song structures in favor of feel-driven sessions that adds an honesty to the record.
The album’s lead single, “Flowers Fell,” meditates on the transience of life with its swirling guitars and layered melodies mirroring the fleeting nature of beauty. “Fingerpainting,” by contrast, is a slower burn, with its live-recorded energy gently capturing the tension and tenderness of connection. Throughout New Thing, Avery’s understated vocal delivery serves as a grounding force by balancing vulnerability and restraint in a way that never feels forced.
Among the album’s more subdued moments, “Photobooth” stands out as a rare burst of liveliness. This track offers a snapshot of joy and carefree camaraderie by providing a welcome contrast to the album’s otherwise contemplative mood. Its buoyant energy adds texture to the record, reminding one that, even within the introspection and melancholy, there are moments of lightness and connection.
The closing track, “Nervous,” wraps the album on a hopeful note. Its warmth suggests that uncertainty doesn’t have to be paralyzing; it can also be a step forward. In this way, New Thing captures both the quiet power of self-reflection and the possibility of growth.
With New Thing, Avery Friedman crafts an album that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. It is a thoughtful meditation on memory, emotion, and the beauty found in looking back, offering one the space to reflect on their own experiences and the transient nature of life.
