Anelda Phillips Gets Deliciously Delulu on “All the Things”

Anelda Phillips isn’t writing love songs; she’s writing spirals, and her latest single, “All the Things,” is proof. The sultry alt-pop artist leans all the way into obsession, crafting a soundtrack for those late-night crushes that take over your mind like a fever you don’t actually want to cure. This isn’t about relationships or mutual affection; it’s about the intoxicating chaos of wanting someone so badly that you don’t care how unhinged it makes you.

The lyrics blur innocence and temptation in a way that feels both playful and dangerous. One moment she’s whispering, “Can I come over, I promise to behave,” the next she’s unraveling into “In all the ways I cannot say.” The imagery is cinematic and alive—hair whipping back in the passenger seat, fingertips itching for one more taste, cherries dripping with symbolism for indulgence and forbidden sweetness. It’s the kind of fixation that’s one-sided, delusional, and delicious, and Anelda doesn’t shy away from owning it.

Sonically, “All the Things” is layered with sultry textures, alt-pop bite, and subtle R&B undertones that wrap around her vocals like a slow burn. The production builds dreamy highs and euphoric swells that feel as addictive as the obsession she’s describing. It’s not just music you hear, it’s music you sink into, the kind that makes you lean closer even when you know it might sting.

Anelda herself says it best: being “delulu” isn’t a flaw, it’s a lifestyle. “All the Things” gives voice to that version of yourself who never says what she’s really thinking, the part that fantasizes, obsesses, and replays scenarios over and over. Instead of pushing it down, she invites you to own it, flaunt it, and let it run wild.

“All the Things” is messy, cinematic, and dangerously addictive. It’s a fever dream wrapped in pop fantasy, a reminder that obsession can be as intoxicating as it is destructive. Anelda Phillips didn’t just write a song; she handed us a soundtrack for every spiral we secretly love to get lost in.

You've called "All the Things" a song about obsession, not love. What made you want to lean into the darker, more delusional side of desire instead of writing a typical pop love song?

Because love is cute... but obsession is cinematic. I wasn't interested in telling a balanced story; I wanted the chaos. The kind of hunger that lives in your chest and consumes all your thoughts at night. 

"All the Things" isn't about falling in love—it's about falling off the deep end, giving yourself over to temptation, and spiralling into obsession – but loving every minute of it. That was way more important to me than writing a typical happy ending.

The lyrics play this game of innocence vs temptation. How intentional was that duality, and do you think that's part of your artistic identity overall?

Very intentional. I love teasing. The push-pull between the dynamic of "I promise to behave" and "In all the ways I cannot say" creates a tension that is both compelling and sexy.

That duality is definitely part of who I am as an artist. I intentionally give off the essence of soft and seductive at the same time, that's where my favourite art lives, and it's not just in the lyrics but in everything I create.

The cherry imagery feels super symbolic in the track. Was that a playful metaphor, or does it hold a deeper meaning for you personally?

It started as a playful idea. I was looking for an object I could link my artistry to, and I kept coming back to the concept of cherries. Everything about them radiates seductive, innocent, sensuality, temptation, purity — and the more I looked at cherries and deciphered their symbolism, the more I realised, that is it!

That's me. The more I played with the metaphor, the more it became a big part of my world—like a signature. I wrote the song around that concept; it was like a cherry hard launch.

You've said being "delulu" is a lifestyle. How does that mindset show up in your creative process outside of this song?

I don't write from logic—I channel who I am behind the societal mask, and I write from there. You have to be delusional to create the best art. 

Being delusional means I don't have to censor the spiral. I can let it breathe, turn up the emotional dials, and fully immerse myself in the experience to capture all the complexities worth singing about. Even if it's all in my head... It's real to me. And honestly, that's where the best art lives—in the drama we invent.

If "All the Things" were a scene in a movie, what would it look like? Who's in the car, what's playing on the radio, and where's it all heading?

It's midnight. I'm in the passenger seat—legs up on the dash, red lips, eyes locked on him like a loaded weapon. Street lights are showing quick flashes of his face as we drive 100 on the highway, letting the thrill of danger fully take over.

While he's driving as if everything's fine, he is entirely unaware of the entire scene I've centered around this car ride. The radio's playing something low and slow, like a beat you feel more than hear. I imagine the tension is thick, and I'm thinking things I won't say out loud—yet. Where is it heading? Honestly? Nowhere good. And that's exactly why I'm still in the car.