Ana April has stepped forward with her latest single ‘Unarmed and Naked’. There’s a tactile quality to the piece, likely born from its origin story: percussion sounds first tapped out on clay and metal, an exploration that eventually bloomed into an arrangement of breathy electronics, subterranean grooves, and gently unfolding melodies.
Here, April leans into vulnerability not through lyrical directness, but by building a soundworld delicate, yet quietly defiant. The title evokes exposure and surrender, and the track reflects that tension. Rather than following a traditional arc, ‘Unarmed and Naked’ evolves like a thought in motion, refusing to resolve in expected ways. Bass pulses give the song a sense of physicality, while layered vocal lines drift above like echoes of internal monologue.
There’s no need for hooks or polished refrains as this is music as a mirror; a slow, immersive reckoning. It calls to mind the raw minimalism of FKA twigs and the textural nuance of early Björk, but filtered through a distinctly earthbound sensibility.
And that’s where the track lands its emotional weight. Beneath its experimental sheen lies a question we all eventually face: what remains when we strip away the armour? What are we trying to protect, and from whom?
With ‘Unarmed and Naked’, Ana April offers no answers, only a beautifully disorienting space in which to feel the question. It’s an opportunity to let go, if only for a moment, and meet yourself where you are.
