Love me Forgive me
I want your call
Searching the crucial
Lesson to know
Every woman who dares to step into the public arena walks a razor’s edge. She is dissected: not for the strength of her ideas, but for the curve of her body, the tone of her voice, the tilt of her smile. Applauded for being “inspirational” while simultaneously condemned for ambition, she must navigate a gauntlet of contradictions: be bold, but not brash; beautiful, but not vain; strong, but never threatening. Every word weighed, every gesture judged, she becomes a mirror for society’s anxieties. This relentless scrutiny, masquerading as admiration, is surveillance disguised as interest and control disguised as praise.
Berlin’s Jennifer Touch knows how to hold a gaze. Anthem, her new single from Aging At Airports (released via Fabrika Records), leans into the spotlight….and interrogates it. Strong, quavering vocals ride alongside frenetic synths, the kind that teeter towards madness, as she unpacks the act of performance itself, both in front of an invisible audience and under the constant unflinching eye of the digital age.
The song feels like it’s forever on the brink: alive with nervous electricity…and with questions. Touch is offering a confrontation with self-image, vulnerability, and the pressure to appear unbreakable in public. There are moments in her delivery that echo Annie Lennox’s regal poise, flashes of Aimee Mann’s weary candor, and the raw, unflinching presence of PJ Harvey.
The lyrics circle around longing, surrender, and spiritual searching. They voice a plea for love, forgiveness, and guidance, mingling devotion with desire. A sense of vulnerability collides with fire and urgency, moving between submission, betrayal, and transcendence, anchored by the repeated quest for light, love, and affirmation of life.
“My music, my achievements, my appearance…sometimes it feels like an endless performance under a spotlight, unsure of how to truly present myself,” she remarks. That uncertainty fuels the urgency in her voice.
The video, directed by Nea Gumprech, sharpens that theme to a near claustrophobic intensity. A lone spotlight isolates Touch, clad in a leather trench coat. The light is harsh, unforgiving, invasive even. Yet she stands in it, daring it to reveal every crease, every hesitation. In that confrontation, you see the heart of Anthem.
“In the video, I imagined myself as a woman performing her song, a little messy, late at night in a bar, watched by people I can’t see,” she says. “Like on social media: the gaze is there, but it’s invisible. The lights are on me, but I appear distant. Like the moon quietly watching the earth, still connected, yet far away. I may seem lost in the room, but in reality, it’s my safe space. I’m in my music. Even when I dance in your spotlight, I always belong to myself.”
It’s a remarkable statement, and the song delivers on that promise. The synths dart and jab, restless and tense, while her voice pushes back with strength and vulnerability in equal measure. What results is music that thrives in the tension between exposure and privacy, between spectacle and sanctuary.
Watch the video for “Anthem” below:
Jennifer Touch delivers Anthem as a declaration on a bigger scale. It’s an artist staring down the glare of the modern gaze, and finding power in being both seen and self-possessed. In that light, harsh though it may be, she glows.
Listen to Anthem below and order Aging At Airports here.
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