ANNA ERHARD

Diving further into Erhard’s playful yet understated storytelling, her previously released single “Spa” is a quiet rebellion against the rules of public spaces. When she forgets to bring a swimsuit to the spa, a planned self-care session turns into a social etiquette nightmare, with horrified onlookers pointing accusingly at her underwear.

There is “170”, an ongoing battle with a close friend to establish who is tallest, and the album’s title track “Botanical Garden”, which satirises the kind of person who prefers to obsess over online ratings than experience life firsthand. Over a jangle-pop melody as sunny as something dreamt up by Johnny Marr, she presents her razor-sharp character study of this impossible-to-please Tripadvisor addict, grumbling endlessly over sub-par peacocks and koi carp.

It’s the kind of zoomed-in, keenly-observed writing Erhard has perfected. A fan of the Roches and Jonathan Richman, as well as classic British comedy like Fawlty Towers, a taste for the ridiculous seeps through her music – and while she might scribble lyrics in the same notebook she uses as a journal, these new songs aren’t diaristic, but recreate the feeling of sharing a funny story with a friend, celebrating the minutiae of the everyday.

“The songs I wrote in the beginning were really big and universal,” she reflects. “Now I feel I condense my writing to the smallest possible thing, almost.”

She put out her first solo material in 2019, following the breakup of Basel folk collective Serafyn. “Writing these songs under my own name was really freeing. It felt like I was giving up everything I had already built to start over, which was scary but exciting.” When lockdown halted that fresh start, it also unleashed a new sense of purpose in songwriting, which became a kind of surrogate for long, irreverent conversations with friends. “I was dreaming myself away from this pandemic situation,” she remembers. “I guess I missed this whole goofy part of life, this lightness, and maybe because that was missing so much in my life, I found it in music.”

Her 2021 debut album Short Cut showcased her musical versatility, pairing fuzzed-out guitar hooks with electronic textures and samples, underscored by that perfectly crisp, droll vocal. This was followed in 2022 by Campsite, whose nostalgic eponymous track earned plaudits from the likes of Marc Riley, Steve Lamacq, Lauren Laverne and John Kennedy. Botanical Garden continues in this vein, its deceptively slacker ambience masking slick arrangements and watertight, driving percussion – with no shortage of colourful synthlines courtesy of Erhard’s pocket piano.

Friendships played a large part in the recording process of Botanical Garden. As well as working with longtime collaborator Pola Roy, she invited Berlin friends to drop in at the studio for sessions that sat somewhere between a 9-5 routine and a spontaneous hang. Starting off jamming ideas on a modulated synthesizer, they would create loops to layer into guitar parts, incorporating samples and happy accidents along the way (“Botanical Garden” started life as a Eurotrance anthem).

Thematically, many of the tracks on Botanical Garden offer the same steely critique of modern life, the dogged pursuit of happiness, growth and (in some cases literally) the pain of measuring yourself up against other people: “All the songs are kind of about comparing, and rating somehow that was really a big topic on this album.”

One example is lead single “Hot Family”, Erhard’s sheepish confession about secretly following a photogenic family kitted out in crisp linen who look so “smokin'” she wants to fill out an application to join them. There’s also “Teeth on the King” which describes sleepless nights spent worrying about friends who flake out at the last minute.

But it’s perhaps “B.M.G. Academy” which sees Erhard confronting her funniest demons yet, as she reflects on a peer who joined the performance troupe Blue Man Group as a session musician, securing the kind of financial stability most artists only dream of. When offered tickets to their show, she wrestles with her conscience. Never mind selling out, she’s unsure if she can stand to even be in the same room as “a few dudes banging on tubes”.

It’s the kind of existential reckoning that’s strangely relatable even while being ultra-specific. That same sincerity infuses all nine songs on Botanical Garden, as Erhard expertly deconstructs social mores with her trademark lightness of touch, seeking out the funny side of life’s everyday’s frustrations with a breeziness and genuine warmth.

“I think that’s mostly how these songs happen: something makes me frustraded, and then I turn it into a little passive-aggressive song,” she says, laughing. “Just obsessing about stuff that’s not that important, actually!”