Spiritual Supernova: Anne Wilson Peels Back the Curtain on Her Stellar New Album, ‘Stars’

There's a somewhat ominous astronomical phenomenon called a “dark nebula”, which is formed by a gathering of dust, in turn creating a deep black abyss. As this menacing, shadowy cloud gains intensity, it can seem as though the blackness is interminable, before suddenly, it collapses in on itself and there's a catastrophic explosion. But from the impenetrable gloom, in a flash of brilliant light, a star is born.

It's hard, therefore, to think of a more fitting title for Anne Wilson's third studio album than Stars. Named after the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) and Country hitmaker's evocative song of the same name, it touches on Wilson's childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. As she outlines on the title-track, though, while she might not be studying solar systems and far-off galaxies, she is still reaching out for the heavens in a different sense (“When the world keeps on dragging down this dreamer's heart / I look up and remember / I was still made for the stars”).

The follow-up to 2024's REBEL, Stars finds the Kentucky native doubling down on the movingly personal and visceral songwriting that has always illuminated her discography.

Wilson muses, “Both ‘Stars’ and ‘Twenty-Three’ captured this 23rd year of my life. ‘Stars’ does feel like the cornerstone the album - it was one of the first songs we wrote...The meaning of reaching for the stars in a different way, and knowing God can write a dream in your heart that's better than anything you could have dreamed for yourself. Each song we wrote after ‘Stars’ came out of that same place”.

Much of REBEL was devoted to the joy, peace and cause for celebration that Wilson has found through her relationship with God and Jesus. Stars, by contrast, peels back the curtain on some of the crushing, wearying valleys the ‘Rain in the Rearview’ singer-songwriter has had to wade through over the past few years.

The pain is most acute on the gut-wrenching ‘Twenty-Three’, on which Wilson documents the uniquely piercing grief of turning the age her brother, Jacob, was when he passed away in a car accident in 2017. Throughout the track, which serves as the album's finale, Wilson laments the unfairness of hitting 23, and seeing many years ahead of her, when her brother never got the chance to grow past this.

Wilson drew encouragement from Kelsea Ballerini's rich, raw 2023 album, Rolling Up The Welcome Mat, “I had been listening to Kelsea's record, which is about something very different than mine. But when she put out that divorce record, the honesty and those lyrics was really inspiring for me with what I'm walking through in a very different way with losing my brother. So I remember taking a reference of one of her songs into the writing room, and telling my co-writers, ‘I want to be able to write a song in the way that she writes hers - very honest and very real’”.

She expands, “For me, turning 23 was a really big deal, because my brother passed at 23. It was like this one last milestone in grief that I was going to go through, of realizing I was going to live longer than he ever got to. It was really hard for me. It was one of the deepest places of grief I've been in since he died eight years ago”.

Wilson conveys how writing and performing ‘Twenty-Three’ is as cathartic as it is painful, “As I was going through that process of writing it, it was healing, but it was also really, really hard to be that vulnerable. Since we decided to put it out, it's been so hard for me to sing live. But as I've gotten used to singing it more, it's become something that's been really healing for me. I definitely think ‘Twenty-Three’ - other than perhaps ‘Carry Me’ - is one of the most vulnerable on the record”.

It's a beautifully cohesive body of work, primarily because it comes across as a sincere outpouring from the heart. ‘Carry Me’ plays like the prequel to ‘Twenty-Three’, with Wilson confessing she feels as though she has to hold up a burden meant for older shoulders (“I went to bed fifteen, I woke up twenty-three / And now it all just feels like some kind of crazy, tragic dream / Truth is, I'm way too young to feel as old as I do / It ain't easy being strong when they're all counting on you”).

But Wilson's secret weapon has always been her ability to somehow, through all the darkness and despair, hold onto her faith - and, crucially, impart this faith onto the listener.

This is epitomised on ‘Dead in the Water’, a stark change-of-pace in terms of subject matter, with Wilson leaning into her country roots as she weaves a gritty narrative about an alcoholic, before concluding the forlorn tale on a note of redemption.

Wilson laughs as she recalls, “That song is definitely different from anything I've ever done before. We were at the beach writing this album back in May, and Trannie Anderson brought in that title. She had written it with Andy Albert. She plays it, and she's like, ‘I don't know if Anne would ever be interested in something like this’”.

She goes on, “I remember crying when I first heard it. I felt such a connection to that song, even though that's not my personal story. All of us in that room have walked through other people in our life, going through being an alcoholic and coming back to Jesus...So we ended up rewriting it to bring it back to the Gospel and the hope that's found in Jesus. I really love that song, I think it has such a powerful, Carrie Underwood-type of moment to it, and also just feels really vulnerable”.

Her spirituality is - and always will be - the pillar of Wilson's music, with every track on Stars featuring a nod to the comfort and solace she has found in her faith. Through her new devotional, Hey Girl, she spotlights the key areas of the Bible that she has found particularly transformative and kept her afloat during floods of grief.

Wilson highlights how, much like her music, her writing mirrors her life, “The devotional has been the last year of my life. We wrote that in April, and I think it has so much truth in it that I've been clinging to in my own life. Just learning more about God in this season, and specifically, through this year of being 23 and grieving my brother in a different way than I have before, and getting settled into my career, getting to a place of comfortability where I can fully be myself in my albums. I've learned more about myself and more about who God wants me to be...It's special for girls to be able to read through that and feel encouraged by it”.

The title recognises the fact that a large portion of Wilson's listenership consists of young girls, hence her fan-club being named Hey Girl Nation. The ‘My Jesus’ prodigy has made an effort on every record to ensure there are songs written specifically for this section of her fanbase, and on Stars, Wilson offers a powerful message for her Hey Girls through ‘Hold Your Horses’. She movingly encourages them to never feel rushed when it comes to love, and that there's nothing wrong with taking your time before riding off into the sunset with your cowboy.

Wilson underlines, “I remember a couple years into my career having all these little girls come to my shows and dress up like me. It's really sweet for me to see that, so I think, as I've taken on that responsibility, I've started writing more songs in that direction. ‘Hey Girl’ was the first one, and ‘Red Flag’ was the last one we did on REBEL. ‘Hold Your Horses’ feels like a grown-up version of ‘Red Flag’. I wrote it from my personal experience of just realizing it's so important to guard your heart before you give it to someone else - especially if it's not the right person for you”.

Wilson qualifies this, “In this world that we're living in today, there are so many female artists that write songs about boys and breakups, and I just felt like there was no song with a message like this to remind girls of that. I'm hoping it helps to encourage these girls in a world that feels so dark right now, so they can be reminded to guard their heart and not give it to someone else until they feel it's right”.

Again, such is the attention to detail that Wilson and her team of co-writers bring to each album, there are thematic strands that stretch not only throughout this album, but across multiple projects. As Wilson outlines, ‘Hold Your Horses’ feels like the successor to ‘Red Flag’, one of the many stand-outs from her REBEL era.

But one of the most satisfying arcs can be found from simply listening to Stars top to bottom, with the full-circle title-track setting the tone for the vivid, vibrant voyage ahead, before Wilson brings it all home for the candid closer, ‘Twenty-Three’.

It brings back to mind the dark nebula that, if life had taken a few different twists and turns, Wilson could be studying today, instead of singing in stadiums across the US. Stars is an autobiographical reflection on her journey through the anguish of losing her brother, and her emergence as a beacon of light. But it's also designed to be a roadmap for others that are contending with similarly consuming blackness.

Without darkness, there would be no stars. Because of this truth, Wilson is not in college cramming for tests and learning about supernovas. Instead, she is the supernova.

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