Freya – Of Water (13th Floor Album Review)

Freya (Alice Freya Delargey Jones), an Auckland singer-songwriter, delivers an assured debut album with Of Water, a seven-track collection of sparse, slow-burning folktronica.

Produced by Harry Charles Leatherby, the album blends fingerpicked guitar, ambient textures, and close, breathy vocals to create a quiet intensity. It moves with care, drawing the listener into an interior world shaped by longing, vulnerability, and the ache of things just out of reach.

In Freya’s writing, water is a central image. On Pearl, she sings of surfacing empty-handed, with cupped hands, pearl-less, and later describes herself as not a diver, merely a girl, placing emotional uncertainty in physical terms. That tactile language continues across the record, especially in Body of Water, where a relationship unravels with the tide. Freya anchors her writing in raw, lived sensations such as thirst, pressure, distance, and exposure, which keeps the imagery grounded and avoids sentimentality.

Leatherby’s production gives these songs space to unfold. The arrangements are minimal but detailed, with acoustic guitar at the centre and subtle layers of drone, bass, keys, and percussion creating an atmosphere that borders on the spiritual. The sound shapes the emotional tone of the album which remains restrained, reflective, and quietly affecting.

Freya’s voice rarely rises above a hush but always provides clarity and control. On Saturn vs Overripe Fruit, she sings of bruising easily and craving tenderness, while a low drone and gently repeating chords build tension around her. Waiting II (Voice Memo) is a fragment recorded over the sound of rain, where the line trying to earn your love, but its not free, not for me lands with impact. The unvarnished feel of the recording mirrors the emotional clarity.

Throughout the album, Freya circles themes of unspoken emotion, memory, and the uncertainty of intimacy. Yours builds from vocal humming into a gently insistent rhythm, repeating my heart is yours with quiet urgency. Death Song stretches into darker territory, touching on guilt and the hope of reunion. The final track, Light Find Me, widens the emotional frame. Its subtle musical shifts mirror the searching tone of the lyrics, as she voices a longing for presence and understanding.

The pacing and emotional palette sustain a consistent atmosphere across the album. There are moments where stronger shifts in song structure or storytelling might have added more dynamic range. Yet Freya’s commitment to tone and emotional subtlety is striking, blending direct confession with lyrical abstraction. Her writing is careful and poetic, sometimes elusive, but always emotionally honest.

Freya’s work will likely resonate with listeners drawn to artists like Adrienne Lenker or Aldous Harding, who explore interiority without spectacle. Of Water invites the listener into a space where intensity accumulates gradually rather than all at once.

This is a patient, finely drawn debut. Freya writes and performs with quiet confidence, and her collaboration with Leatherby ensures the production stays true to the songs’ emotional needs. The result is an album that listens closely to itself and leaves a lasting impression on those who are willing to do the same.

John Bradbury

Of Water is out now. Click here to hear/buy.