Brennan Wedl

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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 life’s most delicious moments with 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 herself for others and welcoming the delight of finally being exactly who she is.

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 fueled the next stepping stone in her 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.”

Following a string of solo singles in 2024, Wedl’s latest LP gathers the foundation-cracking moments that make up a life and sees her fully immersed in the lessons they create.

There’s a coffee-ringed, neon-hued quality to Wedl’s songs: blurred faces past foggy windows that add to the anonymity of a new city where countless 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 role in her sense of home, though it now extends beyond traditional religion. After getting sober, she found herself drawn to meditation, morning pages, and the compass of intuition. Today, Wedl looks to her “network in the sky” to notice the patterns in the universe pointing toward her next steps.

For the album, Wedl enlisted Katie Crutchfield (Waxahatchee) and Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Mavis Staples) to co-produce and perform, with instrumental contributions from Colin Croom, Lindsey Jordan, and Matt McCaughan. Together, they formed a middle ground between punk, grunge, and Americana—“grungetry,” as they affectionately call it.

The album was recorded over a 10-day stay at Cook’s studio in Durham, North Carolina. With Cook’s beloved dog Remy observing from afar, the songs were recorded live as a band, soaking up collective energy and avoiding any preciousness about the outcome. The result is a county-fair carousel housing a God-fearing Midwestern teenager, a sharp-tongued DIY punk rocker, a heartbroken road dog, and the newcomer at a Nashville honky-tonk.

“I used to cower at being perceived as anything less than a delight,” Wedl admits on “High Priestess,” a song where forlorn pedal steel accompanies the bargaining stage of grief as a stoned narrator drives past the home of a past forever-love.

On “Pretty Little Fantasy,” she declares a message of personal power and gender expression, disconnecting from the gaze of others to fully embrace sexuality for herself. A snarling rock song that feels like the offspring of Hole and Sheryl Crow, it mixes imagery of roses with bleeding teeth, a well-meaning daughter with a crawling creature.

“I’m not a girl, I’m a freakazoid,” she bellows before the chorus opens into the declaration that she’s “not everything you think you can see.” Exploring societal perception, Wedl describes the song as an ode to the murkiness of your twenties and the ways fantasy can help us become more honest with ourselves.

That spirit carries into “Let’s Be Models,” a sweet, twangy ode to playing make-believe with your best friends. Bedazzled jeans, jumbotron cameos, and topless swimming in a motel pool merge into a movie montage that finds magic in the mundane. Having worked in independent movie theaters throughout her youth and adulthood, Wedl channels the imagination required to make it through everyday reality.

“Two Dollar Pistol” serves as a rallying cry for self-belief, cutting through distraction to remind us of the joy that comes with following our dreams. Simple acoustic strums and lush harmonies from Crutchfield encourage listeners to “step into the light of desire” and pursue what they deserve.

Brennan Wedl is a testament to collaboration—with old selves, future selves, and the friends who help guide us along the way. It’s an anthology of spiritual awakening that examines the road ahead, capturing both the messes and triumphs of leaving a traditional path for something less certain.

The album feels nostalgic because it’s so universal: like a stranger with a familiar laugh or a paint-stroked memory you can’t quite place. Growing up is embarrassing and reckless, uncertain and strange, so it makes sense to search for an anchor amid the chaos.

“The archetype of Daddy is something I’ve been searching for all my life,” Wedl says. “But it turns out the daddy I’ve been looking for has been me all along. Be your own daddy.”