ANNAHSTASIA, TETHER

There’s something quietly defiant about Tether, the debut album from Los Angeles artist Annahstasia. It’s not built for attention or noise. It moves slowly, deliberately, and asks to be heard on its own terms.

That intention, it turns out, is no accident. In a recent conversation with Forbes, Annahstasia reflected on her resistance to the demands of the music industry and the digital age. “I never felt comfortable drawing attention to myself for no reason,” she said. Instead, she sees her music, and her presence, as something that invites rather than commands. Like someone in the corner of a party, waiting for real connection. “I’m going to just perform this at my volume, at my pace,” she said, “let everybody crouch to listen.”

Tether reflects that same honesty. Annahstasia writes to heal, for herself and for those who struggle to name what they feel. The songs are tender, vulnerable, and unguarded, what she calls “a baby bird with a broken wing.” What unfolds across the album is a quiet reflection on identity, forgiveness, and the slow work of coming home to yourself.

Tether is simply a beautiful album about finding steadiness within. It’s subtle and tender and lit by a kind of inner glow, and in this moment, that’s exactly what makes it so moving.