AmeyA Turns Childhood Pain Into a Grown Woman’s Battle Cry on “Release Me”

Most artists spend their careers trying to outrun their origin story. AmeyA runs straight at hers and lights it on fire. “Release Me,” originally written and released when she was 11 and crowned BBC Radio track of the week, returns a decade later not as nostalgia bait but as a reckoning. You can hear the years in her voice. The new version carries weight, scars, and a clarity that only comes from surviving the emotions she first sketched as a child.

The production understands the assignment. The verses sit in a hushed, almost claustrophobic space where her vocals feel inches from your ear. Every breath is audible. Every crack is intentional. Then the chorus detonates into an orchestral sweep, strings climbing as if trying to pry open the ceiling. It is not pretty pop polish. It is pressure being released in real time. The contrast between intimacy and explosion mirrors the song’s central tension: emotional captivity versus the desperate need to escape it.

AmeyA’s tone is the real weapon here. Her delivery is distinctive in a way you cannot algorithm your way into. There is a sharp edge under the softness, a refusal to smooth out the discomfort. Lyrically, she leans into stark imagery that refuses to romanticize anxiety or loneliness. She names the exhaustion. She names the isolation. And instead of wrapping it in a metaphor so dense it becomes safe, she keeps it exposed. That honesty gives the track replay value because listeners are not just hearing a performance. They are hearing a document of survival.

In a pop landscape addicted to empty empowerment slogans, “Release Me” matters because it is messy and specific. It is for anyone tired of pretending they are fine for the sake of being palatable. The upcoming video, pairing her present self with her 11-year-old counterpart, doubles down on that thesis. Growth is not erasure. It is confrontation. AmeyA turns a childhood cry into an adult anthem, and the result is both haunting and liberating.

Revisiting a song you wrote at 11 is basically time travel. What parts of your younger self did you recognize immediately, and what parts felt like meeting a stranger? The strongest thing I recognise is the emotional weight I was carrying, even then. I remember it vividly because that part of me hasn’t changed. I can still feel the same despair, though now I’m better able to understand where those feelings came from.

What feels strange looking back is how direct and audacious I was; I didn’t mask or soften anything, and I didn’t yet know how to mimic or ‘perform’ the way I do now.

Your vocals keep a raw edge instead of chasing perfect pop smoothness. Was there ever pressure to clean that up, and why did you choose to protect the roughness?

I guess what you refer to as roughness is the raw emotion and authenticity of the song. The little cracks and edges are showing the vulnerability, keeping it raw feels more personal and honest, capturing the intention. 

The new version feels sonically bigger but emotionally more intimate. What production decisions were made to keep vulnerability front and center instead of getting lost in the orchestration? The production is somewhat ‘wide’ but not crowded; there’s space for the feelings to breathe, making it intimate. The vocal isn’t over-processed; you can hear the imperfections and deep sense of dejection. I strive for artistic expression rather than perfection. The new version feels sonically bigger, creating more visceral atmosphere, aligning with the new video, which is coming out soon.

You openly write about anxiety and social isolation without softening it. Have fans ever reacted in ways that surprised you or changed how you see your own story?

Everyone has their own story, none are identical. What’s great about this track is that people with very different struggles have connected. It doesn’t have to be anxiety and isolation. I will say, I don’t think the extent of my situation can ever be understood. 

The upcoming video merges your past and present on screen. What do you hope people understand about growth after watching you literally share a frame with your younger self?

I’m really excited about the video; it feels surreal to see myself in two different time frames, in the same place, for the same track. The growth isn’t about returning fully healed, but returning with a deeper understanding of myself and recognising why that space still matters. It’s about the impact of integrating who I was with who I’ve become.