Brennan Wedl is a Nashville-based singer-songwriter who was raised in Minnesota by a devout Catholic family. A decade ago, she left home to study songwriting at Berklee College of Music in Boston, where she co-founded the queercore outfit Dazey and the Scouts, which found a new audience on TikTok in the early 2020s. But Wedl has been putting out solo music since 2012, releasing two strikingly confessional records, Jersey Devil and Holy Water Branch, after relocating to Nashville. It was Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan who introduced Wedl’s music to Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield, who would go on to produce Brennan Wedl with Brad Cook. Retaining the earnestness of her early outings, Wedl’s ANTI- debut is bolstered by sharp humour, dynamic instrumentation (including Jordan’s guitar playing on a couple of tracks), and no-holds-barred storytelling that make for a definitive musical statement. “This burning turns me into someone else,” she sings on ‘High Priestess’, yet firing up the record paints a picture of an artist who couldn’t sound more like herself.
We caught up with Brennan Wedl for this edition of our Artist Spotlight interview series to talk about the intersection of songwriting and business, assembling her self-titled album, being in the studio with Brad Cook and Katie Crutchfield, and more.
Given that your last record came out seven years ago, when did you feel confident or ready to start working on a new album? Was it an internal fight to get these songs out, or was it more about taking a step back?
I think between the last record and the singles in 2024, it was a lot of trusting the process and just waiting for the right time to put out my next album. I come from DIY roots, and I have a DIY mentality. This album came together in a time where I was growing my team – starting to work with a manager, a booking agent. The pieces all came together alongside this album coming together, and the patience paid off. In a time and decade where there is a lot of emphasis on quick turnaround, hustle, and content, I was trying to find my flavor of that that felt authentic. You know, I don’t think nature hustles or grinds. [laughs] I can understand why humans want to grind, and I go through my grindset seasons, of course. But time and time again, I was forced to just sit down and wait it out.
Was there anything surprising about assembling the album and the business team around it at the same time?
The songs live in a different realm from my business-guy side, but they both inform each other with deadlines and goals. With the realization of this album, I’ve been trying to merge the artist with the… business seems too broad, but maybe the disciplined side with the very loose, free, spontaneous songwriter, creative side. A lot of artists come to terms with that intersection in the age of social media, and it’s an intersection to reckon with and journal about sometimes.
Have you found yourself journaling about that intersection lately?
I think about it quite a lot, because there has to be a balance. I know that’s probably the broadest thing I can say, but it’s true in that there have been seasons of my creativity where I’m hyper-fixated on the campaign, the rollout – all the different hats besides the songwriter hat. It’s necessary, but at the end of the day, I’m writing songs, and I need to remind myself to put that high on the priority list right now: focus on the creating of the music.
Did these thoughts around the different sides of yourself feed into self-titling the record, what it means to put your name to something as an identity thing?
Absolutely. There is nowhere to really hide with a title that’s your name. And I don’t feel the need to hide behind any of these songs or ideas – I’m not sure why “hide” came out, but it’s really just putting your seal of approval on it, being like, “This is something I fully back.” I’m not going to put anything out that I don’t fully back, but I’m about to turn 30, I’ve put out a few bodies of work, and I think I feel the most in line with this one, the most reflected authentically by this one. I love a self-titled album. It’s a really exciting part of any artist’s discography, and I thought this group of songs would be good for mine.
The singles you announce the record with are also supposed to feel representative in that way. One of them was ‘Pretty Little Fantasy’, which also made me think about the intersection of different sides of your upbringing, how conservative values coexisted with the discovery of punk music. Was there a point in writing that song where you looked at that period in your life in a different light?
Yeah, with ‘Pretty Little Fantasy’, I am transported to this summer camp I got to go to called Girls Rock Camp. It’s a non-profit in Minnesota, and I was in middle school. I was pretty into pop culture, like TV, music, radio, and those things can send mixed messages to young people about image and values, specifically body image and body autonomy. I guess I just write that song for the young woman in me who felt like she had to look a certain way or act a certain way to be taken seriously, or to be considered anything. It’s a song of just stepping into maybe more of an aggro part of me, where it’s like, “What do you want from me? I’m me, I’m going to do my thing. Deal with it.” The more I think of it, I do believe that song is coming from a very young part of me.
Did playing loud music growing up feel like a form of rebellion at the time?
Yeah, it was so exciting. It felt scary, because you are very seen, and perceived, and heard when you’re learning how to play the electric guitar for the first time. I guess the rebellion was being seen and heard for what I want.
At which stage did this collection of songs feel like a record for you?
When Katie Crutchfield, Brad Cook, and I decided to collaborate on this, I sent them maybe 20 finished demos. I narrowed them down, mainly, but Katie absolutely helped me choose which songs tell a cohesive story together. Despite how far away from them I was, or how long ago I wrote them, they still apply. The meanings always change. The story was still coming together, even after we recorded it – deciding the track listing, the visual story of this whole record. I would say it became solidified when we got to Brad’s house, where we recorded. I was even changing some lyrics on the days we were doing vocals, so it’s never really over. And I like it that way.
I wanted to talk about recording vocals there specifically. In the liner notes, you mention a moment of needing to step out of the room after tracking ‘Fake Cowboy’. That’s a song where the details in the storytelling feel so vivid and emotional.
I remember that moment. It was the third day of tracking the album in the garage, and we were just really in the flow of things. We were playing ‘Fake Cowboy’, and I was just very touched by where a song can take you – whether that’s physically, mentally, in memory. In this case, in 2019, I moved to Nashville and was having all these incredible new experiences. I had a really goofy night with a guy pretending to be a cowboy, and many years later, it was on my album. I was not too far from Nashville, I was in North Carolina, but I’ve played that song all over the country, and it just makes me really grateful for experiences that can summon profound feelings that make you want to create something. I think sometimes a situation can feel so draining, so scary, so emotionally heavy, but when time goes by a little bit, we can see just how it might have sparked us in a way. So, in the studio that day, I tried to hide my tears. If I could turn back, I would probably show them to the whole band and say, “Thank you.” I think those tears were saying thank you.
Do you feel that spark to create hitting you a long time after something has happened, or is it usually in the moment?
It’s usually hindsight where I can do the best excavating of my takeaways; creative intel from a situation is probably a few months hindsight. That’s why keeping a journal is so important to me and my own process of songwriting and excavation. When things are hard, there are so many little catchphrases and slogans people say, like “let go and let God” or “one day at a time.” Those do help, but there are moments when my mom will remind me the shit you’re going through right now can help someone else when you digest it and find a way to alchemize it in songwriting. So that helps me stay accountable to really sitting with stuff. It’s definitely not in my best interest to brush things under the rug, even though it can be a relief to do so. That shit’s still there, and it’ll be there whenever you’re ready for it.
You mentioned your mom, and the real punchline of the story is when we get to her asking, “Are you having fun?” I also understand there’s something about reminiscing on a goofy night like that when you’re sober that induces certain feelings. Does sobriety play a role in how you see these songs? Katie Crutchfield is obviously a big reason why the album sounds the way that it does, but I’m curious if she was an emotional anchor, too, in navigating these things.
I appreciate that. Not drinking has definitely taken some of the chaotic situations that can inspire songs like ‘Fake Cowboy’ out of my life, and I think that is ultimately a positive thing. But with sobriety, it’s been one of my life’s new great mysteries: how I can find helpful chaos, or productive chaos? I don’t know if “productive” is the right word – maybe that’s one of the flavours of chaos. As a sober person, you probably know this song and dance: life changes when we change our routines and the places we go. It can be an isolating thing. Katie has always encouraged me to listen to my gut and hear my feelings out for what they are. The feelings were still there when I was drinking about them. But there’s a new lens that’s very new to me now, where a layer of illusion has been lifted, but there are 12 other illusions ready to step in, in place of alcohol. [laughs] Maybe the chaos is finding the harmony in how imperfect life is.
Flavors of Chaos sounds like a great album title.
I’m taking notes!
There is a kind of meta moment on ‘High Priestess’, where you sing: “My pen is bending nights of reckoning and hotel room blues.” I know you came up with the term “grungetry” for your music, but “hotel room blues” also sounds like an apt descriptor.
Being alone in a hotel room is really fun sometimes. [laughs] I love alone time, but too much of that can be pretty poetic when you’re in a hotel. I started writing ‘High Priestess’ after my first South by Southwest. I stayed in Texarkana, Texas, which is kind of, not really between Austin, Texas, and Nashville. After that whole week of socializing, meeting a ton of people, and having a great time, the dissonance of coming home to yourself at the end of the night just shook me a little bit.
I love the word “dissonance” because you mentioned the record being a cohesive story, and I feel like the tension is part of what makes it cohesive. It moves through these conflicting impulses, like being a homebody and a wanderer, which come into contrast between ‘Airplane Movies’ and ‘I Wanna Be Your TV’. The whole record begins with this longing for home in ‘Scorpio’. I wonder if you can speak to that push-and-pull.
I think many things can be true at the same time. Definitely, that was an affirmation I went through my 20s: trying not to be such an all-or-nothing or black-and-white thinker, and realizing that there’s nuance to this imperfect human experience. The cracks where the light shines in, that cliché. It might show the indecision that we feel in our 20s, like, “Is this the right decision? Is this going to alter my life forever?” No. Some decisions do – gotta be careful for those. But on the daily, life’s big questions aren’t that contractually binding. I guess that tone on the record is me exploring all the possibilities and realities that can come from a night at the honky-tonk with the fake cowboy, or the grief, bargaining, and solitude on ‘High Priestess’. Like, how far am I willing to go to deceive myself from reality?
I imagine all these different possibilities presenting themselves as different versions of songs in the studio. What made you feel comfortable there with this particular group of people?
We recorded at Brad’s house. Taking your shoes off at a place automatically introduces a level of comfort. Everyone on that session was so easy to talk to, so down-to-earth, and just genuine music nerds with huge hearts. To explore all sides of these songs in socks on a couch really benefited the earnest, no-smoke-and-mirrors nature of this album. I don’t think I would have been able to perform like I did if I were nervous or self-conscious. It just speaks to the genuinely good time we had making it. A lot of sparkling water, a lot of different flavs were flowing. I tried the sunflower – have you tried the LaCroix Sunshine flavor?
No. Does it taste like sunflower?
It kind of reminds me of the essence of sunflower. That wasn’t my favorite, that was the most memorable. Melted Popsicle was my favorite. Very American.
What do you remember about the day Lindsey Jordan came in to contribute her parts?
We were just hanging out, laughing – we were all showing each other our favorite YouTube videos. It was daytime and really hot, so being inside felt justifiable. Even though it was a beautiful day, it was too hot to go outside. And we were making an album, so it was justified to be inside. [laughs] We hung out for a few hours, and then Brad was like, “Hey, do you want to hear some of the songs? You wanna jam?” We pulled up a song called ‘Tasmanian Devil’ and just asked Lindsey to pick up a guitar and play, and she added one of my favorite parts to the album: the lead guitar part on ‘Tasmanian Devil’. She ate and left no crumbs.
Do you remember any of the YouTube videos?
Someone pulled up this video that really made me laugh so hard I was in a different universe. It’s of the Denver Nuggets mascot being lowered down from the ceiling during halftime, but he passes out in the mascot costume while being lowered down. I don’t know if I was just really tired in that moment, but it really made me laugh so hard I was in tears. He’s okay – the Denver Nuggets mascot is okay. I think it was just really hot in the mascot outfit, and he passed out. It’s a cursed video.
Are there things you took away from making this record that have made you consider how you want to go into the next one?
I haven’t really thought about the next album super critically, but I have started to write new songs, and I’m just trying to keep it flowing at a natural pace. I’m working on getting better at recording at home, doing home demos, and hanging out with my friend Taylor Wafford. She will record some demos with me, and we just have so much fun. I’m focused right now on the joy of writing new songs, learning about recording techniques, and just getting back to the basics again. There’s no finish line, of course, but with the album coming out next week, it’s lived a life, and it’s life-affirming to start a new cycle.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.
Brennan Wedl’s Brennan Wedl is out now via -ANTI.