This is a full circle moment for Brennan Wedl. The Minnesota-raised, Nashville-based songwriter has always felt like she was searching for herself, trying on various versions but never really feeling the euphoric ease that comes with finding comfort in one’s own skin. Through experimentation in spirituality and empowerment, devoting time and energy into her craft and learning to lean into a playful, carefree outlook, Wedl is experiencing the delicious life moments with a renewed clarity. On her self-titled album––and debut for ANTI––she shakes off the prying eyes of expectation, leaving behind the anxiety of forming yourself for others and welcoming in the delight of finally being exactly who you are.
Wedl is already a prolific artist, releasing solo music since 2012, and co-founding the queercore outfit Dazey & The Scouts in 2015. The band, she says, taught her about “complete vulnerability and collaboration,” and their surprise viral success on social media fuelled the next stepping stone in Wedl’s career. “It’s shown me the humanity that live music can create,” she says of the unexpected attention on the band. “It’s taught me so much about songwriting as collective care.” After a string of solo singles in 2024, Wedl’s latest LP gathers those foundation-cracking moments that make up a life, and sees her fully immersed in the lessons they create.
There’s a coffee-ringed, neon-hue to Wedl’s songs; blurred faces past foggy windows that add to the anonymity of a new city where an array of outcomes await. After touring and moving around the country for the better part of a decade, Wedl likens home to her favorite snacks, a long phone call with a friend or the hum of a beloved song on an Uber driver’s radio. She grew up in a religious household, and fondly remembers visiting her elderly aunts at their convent. Spirituality still plays a huge part in Wedl’s version of home, but it’s a broader scope than a bearded guy in the clouds; after getting sober, she found herself drawn to meditation, morning pages and the compass of intuition. Now, Wedl looks to her “network in the sky” to notice the patterns in the universe pointing out the next steps.
Wedl enlisted Katie Crutchfield (Waxahatchee) and Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Mavis Staples) to co-produce and play on the album, with instrumentalists Colin Croom, Lindsey Jordan and Matt McCaughan also sprinkled throughout. Together, they formed a middle ground between punk, grunge and Americana––‘grungetry’ as they affectionately call it––capturing all tracks within a 10 day stay at Cook’s studio in Durham, NC. With Cook’s beloved dog Remy witnessing from afar, Wedl’s songs were recorded live as a band, soaking up the collective energy and shaking off any kind of preciousness about the outcome. It’s a county fair carousel, housing a God-fearing Midwestern teenager; a sharp-tongued DIY punk rocker; a heartbroken, dejected road dog and the newcomer at the Nashville honky-tonk.
“I used to cower at being perceived as anything less than a delight,” Wedl admits, fighting against the old version of herself on ‘High Priestess.’ Forlorn pedal-steel whines alongside the bargaining stage of grief, as a stoned narrator drives by the house of a past forever love but it’s on ‘Pretty Little Fantasy’ that she declares a message of personal power and gender expression, disconnecting from the gaze of others to fully embrace sexuality for herself. A fully-blown, snarling rock song that could be the baby of Hole and Sheryl Crow, Wedl mixes imagery of roses with bleeding teeth; a well-meaning daughter and a crawling creature. “I’m not a girl, I’m a freakazoid” she bellows before the open-armed release of a chorus announcing she’s “not everything you think you can see.” Prodding at societal perception, Wedl says the song is an ode to the murkiness of your twenties, and how fantasising can allow us to be more honest with ourselves.
This fantasy adorns ‘Let’s Be Models’; a sweet, twangy sing-songy ode to playing make believe with your best friends. Bedazzled jeans, jumbotron cameos and topless swimming in a motel pool coalesce into a movie-montage that finds the magic in the mundane. Wedl worked in a lot of indie movie theaters growing up and into adulthood, and ‘Let’s Be Models’ mimics the storied imagination it takes to make it through the banality of reality. ‘Two Dollar Pistol’ is a rallying cry of self-belief, piercing through the noise of distraction to remind us of the scrumptiousness that comes with following your dreams. Simple acoustic strums and lush harmonies by Crutchfield urge us to “step into the light of desire,” and go after what we deserve.
Brennan Wedl is a testament to collaboration, with old selves, the selves yet-to-be and the friends helping you along the way. It’s an anthology of spiritual awakening that sizes up the road ahead, encapsulating the messes and triumphs when leaving a traditional path for something less steady. It feels nostalgic because it’s so universal; like a stranger with a familiar laugh or a paint-stroked memory you can’t quite make out. Growing up is embarrassing and reckless, uncertain and strange, so it makes sense to look for an anchor amidst the chaos. “The archetype of Daddy is something I’ve been searching for all my life, but turns out, the daddy I’ve been looking for has been me all along.” Wedl says. “Be your own daddy.”