Annie O’Malley’s new album is one of those rare musical experiences that hits you like an emotional sucker punch, the kind that has you questioning your life choices and dancing around your living room in your pajamas—sometimes at the same time. Describing it as “temper tantrum pop” might sound like a whimsical marketing hook, but it nails the essence of what O’Malley is serving up. ‘all the things that skare me’ is a cathartic release wrapped in glossy pop packaging, but don’t let that fool you—beneath the polished surface, it’s raw, vulnerable, and painfully real.

photo by Sam Moouse

At its core, this collection of songs is about reclaiming yourself. We’re not talking about the easy, feel-good kind of self-love that’s plastered all over Instagram. No, O’Malley is dealing with the messy stuff: healing from trauma, grappling with your inner demons, and coming to terms with the fact that you’ve been your own worst enemy. Whether she’s unpacking the aftermath of a car crash or throwing a solo breakup party, she doesn’t sugarcoat the pain. But she also doesn’t wallow in it. There’s a defiance in her voice, a refusal to stay down.

But don’t expect this to be a cliche, feel-good therapy session. O’Malley digs deep into the dark corners most of us avoid—those jagged edges, the unspoken insecurities we tuck away. And yet, there’s something cathartic about how she faces those fears, as if by naming them out loud, she’s reclaiming her power. “all the things that skare me” becomes a guidebook for anyone learning to embrace the things they’ve been running from.

One of the album’s highlights is its focus on the “inner child,” a therapy buzzword that O’Malley makes deeply personal. When she sings about giving that kid the love they missed, it feels like she’s speaking directly to you. It’s not about blaming your past but recognizing the parts of yourself you’ve ignored. The childhood “monsters under the bed” are still there, but through O’Malley’s eyes, they’re just scared fragments of you, waiting to be healed.

The album cover deserves attention. Annie sits on her bed, surrounded by a burst of orange and pink, giving the room a surreal, dream-like vibe—maybe the kind of dream you’d have after one too many kid’s cartoons. The pastel walls are filled with quirky, cute knick-knacks, clocks, and odd little decorations that feel like a peek into Annie’s mind. And right beside her? A fuzzy, purple creature with big eyes, somewhere between adorable and a little unsettling. It’s like O’Malley is saying, “Here’s what scares me—and hey, it’s not so bad after all.”

photo by Sam Moouse

Annie O’Malley’s album kicks off with “all the things that skare me,” a perfect pop-radio hit that pulses with energy and optimism. It’s the kind of track that makes you crave more.

“break up partie” shifts into lighter synth-pop territory, blending commercial pop hooks with clever lyrics. It’s effortlessly catchy, making you want to forget your worries and just dance, even if it stings a little.

By the time “celebrations & obsessive thaughts” rolls in, the mood softens. There’s a warm haze over the track, giving you space to reflect and breathe. It’s a calm, much-needed pause in the album that lets O’Malley’s voice feel more intimate.

Things turn darker with “diskovering why,” where the lyrics get heavier, and the sound feels almost claustrophobic. O’Malley captures raw emotion here, and the intensity is palpable—she’s fully drawing you into her world.

But “klose the door” is my favorite. It circles back to the album’s brighter beginnings, hinting at hope after the night’s darkest moments. It feels like a rebirth, both sonically and emotionally.

“sobure” strips things down to a dreamy acoustic setting, with O’Malley’s vocals floating effortlessly over gentle keys. It’s delicate and romantic, the perfect spring breeze of a song. Then “plot twyst” comes in, playful and upbeat again, showing her skill at mixing moods and sounds without missing a beat.

Finally, “obstakles dissipate” wraps it all up with a powerful, almost prayer-like vocal performance. It leaves you feeling both drained and uplifted—a final emotional punch that lingers long after the album ends. Perfect timing, perfect closer.

Despite the weighty themes, “all the things that skare me” isn’t consumed by sorrow. There are sparks of rebellion, moments where she celebrates in the face of adversity. That’s the magic of this album: balance. O’Malley takes us from fear to joy, pain to triumph, capturing the full spectrum of human emotion, all wrapped in her “temper tantrum pop” style—perfect for someone who turns frustration into art.

In the end, “all the things that skare me” it’s an invitation. O’Malley wants us to sit with our fears, confront them, dance with them, and maybe, just maybe, learn to love them. Because after all, what are the things that scare us if not parts of ourselves we’ve yet to fully embrace?

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub