On a quick trip to New York, one of the first shows I got to attend was a small bill consisting of Dorée, Sister., and Avery Friedman (the latter being an artist I never heard of before until that evening) in an intimate living room setting. As we were filing into the warmly lit house, everyone began to take their shoes off, and as I anxiously contemplated if I was wearing that pair of socks that had the massive hole in them, Avery Friedman was just beginning her set. Playing mostly alone, along with a handful of songs accompanied by James Chrisman on guitar, Avery’s songs filled that small space with both a gripping passion and a newfound focus.

Since that evening, there have been parts of Avery’s songwriting that have stuck with me in a way that has been difficult to put into words. There are moments that brush past my own bits of internal dialogues – anxieties, doubts and memories that each take their turns in the queue. But as Avery began to release her first handful of singles, and hearing these songs take on a fuller form than what I heard during her tender and open solo performance, there was a continuity that was beginning to become clear within her music. It’s not in sonic complexion or even melodic fixations that tow this line, but rather the way she approached, and later learned to embrace music as an unknown territory for her. Having never considered herself a songwriter for most of her life, Avery was fluent in writing about music but never felt comfortable in sharing her own. After meeting friends James Chrisman (Sister.) and Felix Walworth (Told Slant, Florist) who helped her push through to make the record a possibility, the stories she needed to tell and the healing she needed to feel became synonymous with a musical progression and identity built on embracing trial and error. 

Today, Avery Friedman has shared with us “New Thing”, the final single before she releases her debut album of the same name on April 18th via Audio Antihero. We recently got to catch up with Avery to discuss coming into her own identity as a songwriting, challenging her anxieties and how New Thing all came to be. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Shea Roney: We are very quickly approaching the eve of your debut record. How are you feeling about it all?

Avery Friedman: It’s true, It’s one of those things where it feels like such a long time coming. In some ways this is like a lifelong dream that I didn’t even realize was a dream, or even possible for so long. But also, it feels like everything happened so fast because it is all still quite new to me. I’m very excited and just grateful to have made something and to get it out there, and that people seem to be liking it. 

SR: It’s fun, because I found you in the context of seeing you play a small house show before you had any music out, and I remember just being blown away by your songs that were already so full in that environment. Then seeing you release these singles one by one, with tracks fully fleshed out, brought a new life to these songs. How did you approach bringing these songs out in the recording process, and how much of it was playing to intuition and emotions, and how much was it trying to challenge yourself? 

AF: I mean, it’s funny because these songs are the first songs I’ve ever written, and it’s also the first time I’ve ever recorded something. I write on acoustic guitar and so beyond that, especially having never recorded before, I did a lot of it with my friend James, and I had never been in a situation where someone was like, ‘okay, so like, what do you want this to sound like?’ I had no fucking idea [laughs]. I really lacked a language for describing what type of guitar would sound good, what type of drum beat, or lack thereof do I want, do I want synthetic noises, like whatever. So that’s all to say, it was a huge intuitive process, I think, because there wasn’t really any intentionality with what the sound would be. I just wanted it to feel like the production elements just further emphasize the spirit of the song. 

I feel really grateful because James spent a lot of time with me being frustrated in his apartment, not even knowing if this sounded good. But I think it became a sort of chicken or the egg thing too. One of the first things we recorded together was a demo of the title track “New Thing”, and we just laid down a drum beat from a drum machine, played a guitar that’s similar to what is on the final product, and then had a synth in the background. I think that was the first glimpse of what my music might sound like, and I really loved that. Once we had a little bit of that concrete idea of what Avery Friedman music might sound like, we evolved from there.

SR: In that personal language you developed, did you rely more on what feels right and what doesn’t feel right to describe what you wanted?

AF: In lieu of not writing music for 26 years of my life, I wrote about music for my school paper and had different podcasts about music. I was an intense music listener, so I could describe what was going on in songs. But I remember, once I started understanding things like adding acoustic guitar here can create a sense of longing, or that I always want vocal harmonies – I remember when we were working on the song “Finger Painting”, there’s a big build, and James asked, ‘do you think a guitar solo is the thing that you want to be the climax of the song?’ And I sat for a second, and I was like, ‘No. What if we tried some vocal modulation?’ – that kind of thing. It’s so small, but it was one of the first times that I actually had a different idea that I accessed quickly, and that we were able to implement it. Now, I can’t wait to record something else, because it will save a lot of time.

SR: I know you have never saw yourself as a songwriter before these songs began to be released, but what did it take for you to embrace that label and are you still weary of it? 

AF: I mean, not anymore. I’m putting shit out there, so I have to just own this. It’s been such a beautiful thing, it feels like something that I will never put back in a container. It’s a way that I now have figured out how to process stuff. Now, when I’m having a weird emotion, I have a new tool. My main goal with music is to continually be putting more time and energy in my life towards it. It’s surreal to talk about my stuff like this, and it’s surreal and cool to meet people over the past year and a half, since I’ve been doing this, that come to just know me as someone who is a musician. The first time I posted a show I was playing, like two Julys ago, people in my life were probably thinking, ‘that’s random. Avery’s trying something new’ [laughs]. 

SR: In a lot of ways, these songs are almost combative to permanence. Whether that be growing from past traumas, coming into your own and defining your identity, or just challenging yourself as a songwriter, what sort of things were you pushing towards when writing these songs? 

AF: I do really view them as a jumping off point. At least for me, it’s been easy to feel like once I’m done recording it, that it’s all over. It’s a long process, and it takes so much energy and attention, but I’m viewing this as truly the beginning, and I’m really excited for future state musician me. I tried a lot of different stuff – different sonic textures and very different types of songs on the record. I’m really excited to use these as a jumping off point that I’m really proud of, and to be more intentional going forward. The record really is meta, because it speaks to and embodies a lot of firsts for me. A lot of instances of growth that were challenging and facing fears and anxieties. It’s the classic take your hardship and make it into art situation, but I’m just grateful that I have a time capsule, and I’m so grateful that that’s my first time jumping into music, because I’ll always be proud of it, even if my sound evolves a lot.

SR: Because you have dabbled in a lot of different styles, was there one that you felt represented you a little bit more than the others? 

AF: It’s hard, but honestly, I think “Finger Painting” is one that I feel really proud of. Something funny about this record was James and I originally tried to record a lot of it by tracking to a metronome in his apartment, and then we just realized that they kind of lost their essence. Something that I have found to be useful when recording something for the first time is thinking, what did I feel listening to the first voice memo of this song that felt really good? Can I still access that here? And we lost some of that, so we scratched the songs we’d recorded, and we went and recorded a bunch of them live in a suit with my friends Ryan Cox (Club Aqua) and Felix. I think the ethos is just sort of trusting that instinct, taking a risk and trying to harness that live energy. 

SR: I can imagine there was a lot of trust that had to go into making this record. Especially because you’ve had these songs for a while, haven’t you?

AF: I’ve had them for a few years, and the cool thing about this, though, was that there was not that much of a lapse between when I first started writing these songs and when we started recording them. I just kept writing them, and then we just were like, ‘okay, looks like we got a record’. It was crazy. Someone in an interview yesterday asked me, ‘when did you decide you’re going to make a full record?’ I was like, ‘I did not. We just realized we had songs’ [laughs].

SR: How much of it was trusting yourself, that these songs are going to be made to give justice to the stories behind them, as well as trust in the collaboration and ideas from your friends? 

AF: You know, I met Felix and James through Ceci [Sturman]. James and I are both from Ohio, so I went and caught them on that Told Slant and Sister. tour, and he was having a campfire in his backyard, and they were passing around a guitar. And here I am getting nervous because I was thinking ‘Oh, my God. I do not want this to come to me right now’. I just hadn’t performed for anyone, and only Ceci knew I had written a few songs. So, I played really nervously for them, and James was like, ‘what the fuck, that is so good.’ When they came back from that tour, James texted me that he was going to be playing around with new recording techniques and said I should come by and record some of my stuff. I think we recorded that “New Thing” demo that day, and I was so nervous. My hands were shaking, and it was a really active effort to push myself to do this. Then a few months later, Ceci, Hannah [Pruzinsky], Felix and I went upstate, and Ceci was like, ‘you gotta play them the demo’. The next day Felix was like, ‘I’ve been thinking about how you sing on that song all day, and they offered to help you make the record. I couldn’t say no to this, but I also had such imposter syndrome, and every day was an effort, because I was just tweaking.

SR: How long did that imposter syndrome seem to last? Starting fresh, I can imagine there were little goof ups here and there.

AF: Of course there were goof ups. I think, for me, it just felt so vulnerable in like 900 ways, but especially just that I’ve never done this before – there were definitely goof ups. I would sometimes leave recording and just be like, ‘damn, I wasted everyone’s time,’ and I would become really hard on myself. After I performed for the first time in July of 2023, I didn’t sleep for two days before, I was so unwell. It was an inconsequential backyard show, and that’s when I was like, I need to do exposure therapy on myself. I’m going to perform every month from now on to sort of build up a tolerance here, to the feelings of vulnerability. And honestly, it’s finally a little better. Only in the past, maybe 4-5 months or so, I’m more excited for shows, which was not the case for a year.

SR: You started playing shows in 2023 and now have a band that backs you up. Have you seen yourself grow in these live settings? As you began to play more, and with more people, what felt right as you were coming into this performance space? 

AF: It’s so funny to feel compelled to do something that brings you so much fear. Maybe that was the thing, that so much was going on, so much has been really hard and shitty in the world the past couple years, something that grounded me was just the awareness. I have the ability to pursue art, to have people who want to make it with me, to perform, to spend an hour of my night doing that – it’s such a gift.  A lot of people are not with that type of agency, and I just was like, ‘this doesn’t matter’. Worst case, you fuck up and it’s embarrassing, but it’s fine. I think, honestly, just grounding in gratitude for the ability to dedicate my time to this has been very grounding to me. I love performing with people. I don’t mind a solo performance, but I love a band experience. A recent goal after I exposure therapied a little was to be more present on stage. Because sometimes I was so nervous, I would kind of black out, eyes closed, the whole time. I think it lends itself to a really good and high-quality performance musically, but also just emotionally, for an audience and the performers to be connected on stage. So now I make a really conscious effort, now that I’m a bit more comfortable, to make eye contact. When it’s time for James to do a cool thing on guitar, or it’s time for Alexa [Terfloth] to do a cool synth thing, I try to look around and be like, we’re a little team. We’re doing this thing. That is really grounding to me because it feels like it’s less exposed. And we’re all in it.

New Thing will be out April 18th via Audio Antihero. You can pre-order the album now as well as cassette tape.

Written by Shea Roney | Featured Photo by Mamie Heldman