The communal songbook has always been a second language on Music Row. Still, Avery Anna’s spin on the strategy with let go letters was a uniquely modern fourth-wall break in search of an artistic identity. The sophomore project from the now 21-year-old parsed through what was essentially diary-entry level fanmail and turned the prompts into one of the most attention-grabbing musical moments of 2025. The subject matter, while sporadic, was intimate in its process, never feeling too far removed from a classic cover or an organically prompted co-write between payrolled songwriters. Between stomach-jumping drums and fuzzy guitars, the singer’s alto whooshed with conviction as the parasocial and proverbial began to mesh within the lines of her listeners’ anxieties. It was clear that her presence alone was enough to get the stories off the ground, even if she didn’t have complete ownership of the route they’d take.
Anna’s quest for agency, or maybe the question of who or what exactly she wants to be a vessel for, gets a more personal definition in forgive, forget. The mini-sequel to last year’s LP wrestles with more self-important strife while retaining the widescreen, big-scale backdrop that accented the importance of foreign experience on her last effort. Though her cavern-filling alto shirks in some big moments, it rumbles on a track like “lonestar alone,” where her heart’s been nestled in the saddle of a between-towns drifter that’s now kicking up dust into the horizon. Even when she hits her marks on novice-level lines like “anywhere with you still feels like home,” it’s still refreshing to hear her try to untangle her own mind rather than paraphrase a transcription of a stranger’s psyche. The project’s homeostasis is unchallenging for Anna, but it still feels like overdue forward progress.
Any moments of uneven pacing aren’t due to a lack of confidence. With two of the record’s biggest barnburners placed at the top of the bill, Anna’s able to pack some momentum that paints a pretty clear picture of where her potential still lies. On “Fear In God,” Anna and her studio soulmate Sam Barber drag along a dirt road and echo their warbles off canyon walls, highlighted by her own harmonies soaring through an otherwise placid arrangement. “Man Downstairs” kicks that jog into a brisk stride, as Anna’s pop-punk sensibilities start to shine through, slamming chord progressions as she cordially tells a former partner, in so many words, to go to hell. It’s an interesting contrast, and a telling sign of an artist still wrestling with their own emotions, to seat God and his fallen angel next to each other. When both characters seem to reveal themselves in big moments down the line, it’s safe to say the irony isn’t lost on her.
Anna’s biggest strength has always been a breathy, commanding middle-ground vocal register that can course-correct even the most manicured, western-wear catalog-model arrangements. Somewhere between a Tecova commercial and the closing credits on “Yellowstone” lies “Blood Runs Thicker,” where callouses are coated on grungy guitar licks and dust explodes in a perfect mushroom with every stomp of a kick drum. Cloaked in pristine remasters of a kicking down doors Miranda Lambert, Anna’s bid to be a bona fide country star still manages to ring out pretty prominently amidst all the noise. It’s a frustratingly commendable salvage of a song that proves its own expendability on “Life Ain’t Like The Rodeo” just prior. There, the singer is hitting her stride of some quick, country-soaked turns of phrase in a mix that isn’t scared to get a little dirt under its fingernails. “You turn it up to forget we know, life ain’t like the radio,” she gleams. It’s a line that’s refreshingly easy-listening, suited for amphitheater chants over the cable-television needle-drop tunes that some of her more poignant runs fall victim to.
Anna’s newest EP is a chameleon of a project, in that it can be a little confusing trying to figure out where she went after once she’s finally been spotted amidst the foliage. She flits from Carrie Underwood to Billie Eilish to Hayley Williams in under an hour, and the spunk is all dried up by the time the title track is putting a bow on things. It’s a much more breathy, soft-footed endeavor that grinds to a halt the momentum that had been mounting like dirt on the hood during a road trip. How quickly Anna can go from cutthroat to curled up in the fetal position is impressive in its own right, but it’s hard to say the drastic variance gets any closer to a sense of true north for how she wants to place herself. A commanding presence can do a lot of things, but it can’t fill in the gaps of a carte blanche story without a good prompt. Anna still feels like she’s fumbling to figure out how to unravel those emotional cues, or maybe find where their dots connect.
