Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Annahstasia Enuke has released her long-awaited debut album, Tether—a genre-fluid, emotionally resonant work that redefines her path as an artist and affirms the power of staying true to one’s voice.
Once groomed by industry handlers for mainstream success in pop and R&B, Annahstasia’s career took a decisive turn when she broke free from a label deal that sought to contort her into something she wasn’t. “All of them wanted to craft my voice into something more acrobatic, something squeezed, tight and maneuverable,” she has said. Now, years later, her natural vocal timbre—deep, rich, and unforced—takes center stage.
On Tether, her singular voice becomes both guide and narrator across a collection of songs that sit at the crossroads of folk, rock, and chamber pop. The album is lush but intimate, built on slowly unfolding arrangements that prioritize texture and breath over percussion. Working alongside producers Andrew Lappin (L’Rain, Cassandra Jenkins), Jason Lader (Julian Casablancas), and Aaron Liao (Raveena, Moses Sumney), Annahstasia shapes an atmosphere that’s airy and alive—inviting listeners to linger in each moment.
Throughout the album, themes of vulnerability, self-discovery, and complex love are handled with poetic precision. On “Take Care of Me,” she pleads in her higher register, “I’m porcelain... I’m gonna fall without your help,” her voice tinged with longing and veiled mistrust. Elsewhere, on the haunting “Unrest,” she undercuts the ideal of romantic comfort with the line, “There’s unrest sitting in my chest,” her tone aching over delicate fingerpicking reminiscent of Nick Drake.
Yet the emotional core of Tether is not just in the lyrics—it’s in the delivery. Annahstasia’s command of phrasing and timing is remarkable. On album opener “Be Kind,” she lets the silences between lines speak volumes, stretching syllables and hesitations into deeply felt expressions. “You see… I… never learned… to be kind,” she sings, each pause carrying the weight of hesitation and hope.
Though the record leans into quiet drama, Tether also has its moments of buoyancy. The groove-led “Waiting” is one of the few tracks with a strong backbeat, its swirling Mellotron and guitar supporting Annahstasia’s soaring rasp. “Silk and Velvet,” a wry take on artistic compromise, grows from subdued introspection into a cacophony of rebellious sound. Even the duet “Slow,” featuring Obongjayar, wraps intimacy in tension with the line, “What’s the worst that can happen if we just let it happen?”
The album culminates with “Believer,” a six-minute epic that encapsulates Annahstasia’s stylistic breadth. Across shifting dynamics—growling vocals, gospel harmonies, piano-led interludes—she confronts a middling lover before asking, almost with a whisper, “Can I be lonely here with you?” It’s a question that captures the entire ethos of Tether: connection is as much about solitude as it is about union.
With Tether, Annahstasia has crafted a debut that’s not only confident and compelling, but also deeply human. It’s a study in restraint and release, control and chaos—a true testament to the power of listening to your own voice, even when others try to drown it out.
