After the delicate devastation of her 2024 debut Dead Sea, Austel returns with “I’m No Home”, a self-produced, soul-searching slow-burner that feels like a private prayer sent through an abandoned cathedral. It’s one of those rare pieces that creeps into your bones.

We don’t get enough music like this anymore — music that moves at its own pace, without begging for playlist placements or TikTok virality. Austel, aka Annie Rew Shaw, doesn’t chase attention. She chases truth, feeling, and that elusive space between heartbreak and hope. “I’m No Home” is a masterclass in musical restraint, and an emotional gut-punch for anyone who’s ever felt like a passenger in their own body.

The song begins in the softest way possible — a fragile melody played on her grandmother’s piano, so intimate it feels like you’ve stumbled across a memory not meant for you. Slowly, layers start to bloom: haunting choral harmonies, ambient synths, and emotional textures that shimmer like distant galaxies.

The influences are there — Weyes Blood’s cosmic sadness, The National’s existential poetry, Nils Frahm’s minimalist majesty — but Austel makes it her own, weaving together classical instrumentation and modern production into something achingly beautiful. You can hear every inhale, every hesitation, every ounce of vulnerability and control. It’s not flashy — it’s honest. And that honesty lands hard.

"I’m no home," Austel sings, in a voice that somehow sounds both ancient and new.

The song isn’t about answers — it’s about questions we’re often too scared to ask. What does it mean to feel at home in your body? In your mind? In your life? Is “wholeness” even real, or is it just a beautiful myth we chase until the end?

Adding to the song’s emotional weight are otherworldly vocal contributions from Heren Wolf, BLÁNID, and Liv Marshall, who together create an ethereal, almost spiritual choir. The harmonies feel like ghosts from parallel lives — familiar, comforting, yet distant. There’s a communal ache here, a shared sense of floating between worlds.

And did we mention Austel wrote, performed, produced, and mixed the whole thing herself? Talk about full-spectrum artistry. There’s no ego here — just an unfiltered desire to tell the truth. The final polish by Katie Tavini (mastering) gives the track just enough shine without dulling its emotional rawness.

The artwork — captured on a remote Norwegian mountain — perfectly echoes the song’s themes of isolation, introspection, and smallness in the face of something vast. Austel’s craving for biophilia is palpable: she’s reaching beyond the human, looking for meaning in the natural world, letting the quiet of nature speak louder than our internal noise.

This visual sensibility carries into the self-made video, which weaves archive footage of a moth’s lifecycle with eclipse phases. It's poetic without being precious, evoking ideas of transformation, death, rebirth — and that fragile moment before the light returns.

It’s for late-night soul excavation with headphones on and stars outside. Where cinematic minimalism meets celestial choral swells.

“I’m No Home” isn’t made for quick skips or background playlists. It’s a slow dissolve, a song you need to sit with. Austel continues to prove she’s one of the most introspective and emotionally intelligent voices in alt-folk and indie ambient music today. With a hand on her grandmother’s piano and her eyes on the stars, she offers a haunting meditation on selfhood, impermanence, and the search for peace — however fleeting.

It’s not home. But it’s a place to rest. And sometimes, that’s enough.

“I'm No Home” is available now on all major streaming platforms

Listen to Austel and other similar artists on our Spotify Playlist ‘New Music Spotlight - Indie & Alternative’

“I'm No Home” - Austel

“one track mind” - maniia

“F.O.M.O” - Tarn PK