With the help of co-producers Jonathon Tooke (Cry Club) and Ben Stewart (Slowly Slowly) – as well as engineers Jarred Nettle and Samuel Sproull – Stevens has crafted a beautifully raw and honest record that showcases her incredible songwriting abilities. Tooke’s contributions also extended beyond the production boards, collaborating directly with Stevens on the creation of all 12 songs – a decision Stevens has described as the best choice she’s ever made as an artist.

“We spent two days a week in his studio for a whole year,” she says. “Tearing my songs apart, putting them together, and then tearing them apart again until we got it right. Jono opened so many doors for me with my writing. He sat and listened to why each song was important to me, and made sure that every one hit with the impact it needed to. We sat and shed tears in silence multiple times.”

Fans were introduced to the album with the release of its hard-hitting title track back in September of 2022, ahead of Stevens undertaking a sold-out national tour in support of Teenage Joans. The song, which garnered triple j rotation upon release, captures the overwhelming feeling of imposter syndrome in today’s society. Stevens says that she “wrote this song during a moment of reflection – not the kind that makes you feel better, but the kind that makes you laugh and ask yourself, ‘Who the hell do I think I am?’ It’s a relatable and honest exploration of the struggles of trying to find your place in the world.”

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Stevens then followed up “Big Worry” with “A Stranger” last November, which confronts the hangover from a failed relationship. The driving alt-rock cut garnered praise from triple j Unearthed’s Abby Butler, who described the track as “anthemic and wholehearted punk”, and saw Stevens win a competition through the site to perform at the Melbourne iteration of Falls Festival to close out 2023. There, Stevens and her band shared the stage with international acts like CHVRCHES and beloved Australian bands such as Spacey Jane, G Flip, King Stingray, Peach PRC and Beddy Rays.

As Big Worry progresses, Stevens continues to fine-tune her introspective and endearing approach to songwriting – as documented on her two previous EPs, 2016’s More Scared Than Me and 2019’s Why Don’t You Just. She ruminates on trauma with blunt force on “Blackout”, which simultaneously touches on navigating love with a broken heart and the complicated relationship people can have with alcohol. Elsewhere, she dedicates live-show staple “Creep” to “trauma babies”, pondering the weight of trying to exist in a world that may not understand or acknowledge your struggles. “If you are someone who has spent their life shapeshifting and contorting yourself to be able to simply exist, this song is for you,” says Stevens.

In a surprising contrast, the emotional peak of Big Worry is found on the only track Stevens herself did not write. “James’ Song” was written by the late James McKenzie, a close friend of Stevens’ who tragically took his own life in late 2019. Shortly before his passing, Stevens received the song – which never had an official title – from McKenzie as a voice memo recorded on his phone. Though McKenzie was a keen singer-songwriter like Stevens, he never formally recorded any of his music. Stevens, thus, took it upon herself to ensure the song – and, by proxy, the legacy of her dear friend – lived on in perpetuity.

Stevens recorded the song with Tyler Richardson (Luca Brasi) and James’ brother Marcus, who each lent their vocal harmonies to the track. In addition, a choir of Stevens’ friends join in on the song’s indelible, heart-wrenching hook – which cycles, over and over, the lyric “I’ll let the bad thoughts in”. The choir features artists like Eaglemont, Suzi, Queenie and Leo, as well as members of Melbourne bands Clowns and Steel Wheels. “I’m so grateful to have so many people I love singing with me on this song,” says Stevens.

“When I first heard us all singing together, it felt like a big supportive hug – like all of these people were carrying me through it and holding my hand.”

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In its own way, this feeling is paralleled when listening to Big Worry itself. Yes, it’s an exorcism of demons that have haunted Stevens for most of her life, a deft protest against the state of the world and those maintaining the status quo within it. It’s an angry, unruly record that’s equal parts captivating and devastating. At the same time, however, these deeply personal songs carry a universal sense of resonance – and by sharing them, Stevens allows her listeners to feel less alone at a time when it’s easy to feel completely disconnected.

“I feel like so many of my songs lead back to the same feeling: Being overwhelmed,” she says. “We’re all trying so hard to do the right thing, but not always knowing what that is. We’re trying to make everyone happy, but soon realising that’s impossible.”

If these are words you can connect with on a fundamental level, BIG WORRY is the album for you. For those that feel too young to be feeling this old, for those that are desperate to yell into the abyss Garden State style, and for those – most importantly – that can’t shake that big worry.

“I feel my age in this album – which I always thought was scary, but it’s actually really cool,” concludes Stevens. “I hope people find something in that.”

BIG WORRY is available to stream on all platforms now.