IAN SWEET is the chosen shape Jilian Medford often steps into—and sometimes dissolves inside of. What began 10 years ago as a solo project that launched her to indie-critical-darling status, over time has evolved into something more atmospheric and less containable: a porous altar, a mirror, a weather system. There are stretches when the line between Jilian and “IAN SWEET” disappears entirely—this time around a very real life trifecta of battling industry pressures, the ending of a 3-year relationship, and a return to living in her native city of Los Angeles. These serve as the backdrop under which Shiverstruck, her fifth album as IAN SWEET, has found its way into the world. Shiverstruck arrives from a place of deliberate separation. Where earlier works collapsed the distance between Jilian and IAN SWEET, this record gently reestablishes it. The writing process became an act of surrender and an intentional relinquishing of control. “I was thinking about how easy it is to mistake survival for connection,” Medford explains about Shiverstruck album opener “987.” “Music has pushed me to be more empathetic, to pay attention to emotions and experiences that aren’t always comfortable, and channel that into something that feels authentic.” Rather than meticulously sculpting every emotion, she allowed the songs to assume their own architecture. In doing so, she discovered a new softness—a compassion for herself that doesn’t require total collapse to feel human. Across her career, Medford has cultivated a body of work defined by emotional precision and dynamic force—guitars that lurch from whisper to rupture, melodies that carry both ache and defiance. Her songs interrogate identity not as a fixed condition, but as something negotiated daily. Often associated with a lineage of confessional indie rock, she has been labeled a “sad girl,” an archetype she once embraced, whether as armor or proof of depth. But her trajectory has never been about sadness itself; it has been about understanding it, metabolizing it, and ultimately refusing to be reduced by it. Shiverstruck was written during her second year living in New York City, a period that shaped her in ways both profound and messy. In 2023, to make ends meet amidst the increasingly unsustainable economies of touring and streaming as an independent musician, Medford put her strengths as a songwriter to the test, taking an unexpected job working with children. "Singing to babies, leading classes, playing guitar, dancing in circles, singing about sheep, frogs, trains, trees…you name it. It was absurd in one register but transformative in another,” Medford expounds "Watching children respond to music for the first time; their faces lighting up completely unselfconscious, it rewires your brain as a songwriter and steers you more towards honesty. Everything felt immediate and real.” Simultaneously, Medford was confronting the less visible pressures of the industry around her. There were moments that tested not just her career, but her sense of agency as a working musician within it. She saw AI-generated IAN SWEET soundalikes impersonating her music show up as official IAN SWEET releases on streaming platforms and had to fight off confusion among fans. In another instance, Medford found out that her music was being used by a popular production house for a film trailer, without permission or payment for its licensing. Upon confronting them, she was only then offered compensation if she signed an NDA, agreeing to not mention the situation had ever occurred at all (Medford declined). Although these experiences proved frustrating, they clarified something: Medford would not ascribe to the unspoken expectation for women in music to stay agreeable and absorb the impact quietly. This sentiment lends itself to the album single "Wildheart." “I used to define myself by sadness, and would wear the ‘saddest girl in the room’ superlative like a badge of honor,” Medford explains, “But I’ve let that go. I exist beyond that narrative, even while still feeling deeply. The ‘wild heart’ idea is what keeps me moving through fear, doubt, and the pressure of this industry. I’m just trying to exist beyond my insecurities and beyond what anyone else thinks of me.” That shift shaped Shiverstruck into something that began to feel less like documentation and more like manifestation—intuitive signals pointing toward changes she hadn’t yet consciously named. “It was the hardest I've worked and ruminated on lyrics,” says Medford. The writing was the heart of everything and had to feel really grounded. I put in crazy amounts of time and energy to make them feel like the truest reflection of who I am and where I’m at in my life right now.” By the time Medford got to Maze Studios in Atlanta to work with Shiverstruck producer Ben H. Allen (Deerhoof, Animal Collective, Soccer Mommy), the song's foundations were already solid. From there, Medford and Allen worked together with drummer Harold Brown and engineer Ben Etter to build them into ten thoughtfully constructed tracks. In their completion, something came into focus, what had once been abstract became undeniable. As Medford was wrapping up production on the album, she ended a long term relationship, a decision that arrived with a sense of clarity the songs themselves seemed to foreshadow–the “wreckage” referenced in “987,” or the thrill of reliving nostalgic emotions for someone as heard on the propulsive lead single “Criminal Kissing.” In a way, the album’s focal point naturally falls to “Jilian,” written by Medford in tribute to all of the pitfalls and lessons learned from her time living in New York. “Sad singer, such an idiot. Bad sex, cigarettes, all the little mistakes that make life feel cruel and hilarious at the same time,” says Medford. “I know I sound dramatic and maybe I am (yeah, I am). My time living in New York made every mistake and every misstep feel larger than life. This song is messy, self-aware and full of the contradictions that make me who I am.” In the aftermath, she relocated back to Los Angeles, returning to the place she felt most at home. “New York is incredible. It pulls something out of you and expands you in ways you can’t anticipate,” Medford elaborates. “I think everyone should experience that. But for me, I kind of always knew I’d return home to LA to rejoin forces with myself.” The process of making Shiverstruck had quietly set that return in motion. What followed was not a reinvention, but a recognition: a coming back to herself with greater honesty, and a deeper trust in what that self requires.