If Izzy Hagerup’s new album, System, feels immediately uncompromising it’s because it  was never really designed for public consumption. Released under her Prewn moniker,  Hagerup describes the album as a “private journal made public.” The arresting nine songs on System chronicle a deeply personal journey through the darkness of  depression, but one that’s always undercut by moments of humor as well as selfishness  and self-reflection–a push-and-pull that feels wholly distinctive.  Following on Prewn’s 2023’s debut album Through The Window–a collection of songs  that Pitchfork hailed as a “striking example of Hagerup’s ability to sit with ugliness”– System finds her crawling even deeper into the dense folds of the night. Hagerup alone  wrote and recorded the album, mostly in long stretches of bedroom sessions that found  her working through the night until she began to hear birdsong. System reckons with a  lot of the thoughts that tend to needle in during those small hours: guilt, shame, and  self-absorption, as well as the societal pressures that sit at the root of such things.  “This new album comes from a much more self-centered place, the stagnant aftermath  of intensity and emotion,” Hagerup says. “I think it came from a period of time that was  more numb, hollow, and confused. More disassociated from heartfelt pain, more  entrenched in a frustrating and aimless discomfort.”  That discomfort manifests itself in various ways throughout System. Each of the songs  were a result of random inspiration, and find Hagerup working out of a desperation to  record the pieces before the inspiration slipped through her fingers. “I feel in a constant  state of writer’s block but I just put myself in the studio for hours and hours, sometimes  in agony and desperation for any muse at all,” she explains. “Every once in a blue  moon, a nugget gets thrown my way and I run as far as I can with it.”  The result is a wildly unique album that carries a sense of restlessness and unease in  its bones, but also pulls the curtain back on what it takes and what it means to fully  explore the self through song. “It seems that misery’s my best friend. I know it’ll come to  me again and again…” Hagerup sings on the title track. Written while feeling acutely  overwhelmed in a sea of people, the song touches upon everything from the  mechanisms of the music industry, to cycles of depression, to the seemingly never ending battle to escape the clutches of the patriarchy and capitalism. “When I wrote it I  was supposed to be present and alive and gracious and happy. But somehow I couldn’t  escape my own internal fears and depression that can follow me wherever I go,” she  says. Pulling together a number of the System’s key sentiments, “Dirty Dog” is like an intense  fever dream–a song where the listener can never quite find their footing within the  glitchy, malaise-like backdrop of its scorched instrumentation. Hagerup says. “I think a  large continuity of the songs lies in the amateur quality of them. I’m a sucker for an  imperfect recording.” Such sentiments bristle throughout “Dirty Dog,” shaping it into  something prickly and unilluminated in a way that feels almost radical.  Pulling together a number of the System’s key sentiments, “Dirty Dog” is like an intense  fever dream–a song where the listener can never quite find their footing within the  glitchy, malaise-like backdrop of its scorched instrumentation. Hagerup says. “I think a  large continuity of the songs lies in the amateur quality of them. I’m a sucker for an  imperfect recording.” Such sentiments bristle throughout “Dirty Dog,” shaping it into  something prickly and unilluminated in a way that feels almost radical.  It’s a repeatedly explored dimension on System, and present again on “Only You,”  which is a lighter but no-less labored undertaking. Where much of the album is shaped  by the dense weave of atmosphere that ripples just below the surface, the song holds a  torch to Hagerup’s voice and feels fascinating and oddly beautiful as it bends into  shapes that you can never quite piece together or look away from. “This song is about  the experience of falling in love for the first time,” she details. “Being enamored with the  feeling and the person, while also being skeptical of the experience. What’s you, what’s  me? What’s projection? What’s love vs. attachment? We never really get to the bottom  of it in this one.”  From a bedroom floor in the middle of the night, through a tangle of cables and complex  emotions, System grew into a document of disassociation. But it arrives undercut with a  sense of lightness in comparison to Hagerup’s debut, and doesn’t surrender to the  darkness. Instead, System dives into it with a keen and exploring eye, and through the  gloom finds constant realizations of the wonder and appreciation of life. It’s a journey  that holds a special kind of power, a brave struggle that never asks listeners to look  away but instead to follow down the rabbit hole. That it leads to a place of fascination is  testament to the sheer force these songs hold: songs of hurt and heart, fear and fun.