Thinking the future is bright.
You’re kidding me, right?
So sings Austen Starr on “Not This Life.”
Because “I Am The Enemy” isn’t full of optimism — it opens with exhaustion. Starr sings from that same place of weariness, and she doesn’t deliver it with hope in her voice. She sounds worn down. Not defeated, not broken, but world-weary in the truest sense — like someone who’s watched the same promises get recycled and no longer buys into any of it. That feeling matters, because it becomes the emotional lens through which the rest of this debut is viewed.
Look at the cast assembled around her and it’s clear this isn’t a tentative first step. Guitars come from Joel Hoekstra (Whitesnake, Revolution Saints, Iconic, Cher, Trans-Siberian Orchestra), with Chris Collier handling bass and drums (Mick Mars, Lita Ford), Steve Ferlazzo on keyboards (Hugo’s Voyage, Avril Lavigne) and Chloe Lowery providing background vocals (Trans-Siberian Orchestra). The best players don’t always make the best team — but here, it comes very close. This lineup doesn’t crowd Starr out; it lifts her up and gives her exactly the right platform.
“Remain Unseen” is heavier than you might expect, but the weight isn’t just musical. There’s a sense of carrying too much for too long, of existing in the margins while the world keeps roaring on. Starr isn’t raging here — she’s bracing herself, eyes open, shoulders set. It’s a lived-in fatigue that grounds the album before anything resembling swagger appears.
That swagger arrives swiftly on “Medusa.” “I’m the best they’ll ever have” lands with confidence rather than arrogance, a statement of self-belief earned through scars rather than bravado. From there, the title track “I Am The Enemy” cements itself as a mission statement. This is purely and simply arena-ready hard rock — bold, defiant, and absolutely convinced of its own strength.
There’s real range on display too. “Read Your Mind” strips things back, sounding tender and vulnerable before slowly building with genuine class. “Get Out Alive” swings the mood back toward darker, eerier territory, reinforcing the sense that light here is always hard-won.
If there’s a moment where the gloves truly come off, it’s “Effigy.” Helter-skelter and menacing, it bristles with intent, and whoever it’s aimed at should probably feel uneasy. There’s a sharpness here you might not have imagined at the outset, and it suits Starr perfectly.
“Running Out Of Time” is absolute class. Everything is exactly where it should be — not a hair out of place — and it highlights just how controlled and assured this album really is beneath its raw emotion. “All Alone” then subverts its own title, carrying a sense that Starr might actually relish the solitude she’s singing about. There’s real joy in the melody, a reminder that isolation doesn’t always equal despair.
“Not This Life” inevitably invites comparison with Halestorm, but it’s not a lazy reach — it’s an earned one, and Starr stands comfortably in that company. The slower moments matter just as much. “The Light” shows that when the album eases off, it doesn’t lose its impact — it simply reveals a different shade of itself.
The closer, “Until I See You Again,” rounds things out with restraint and poise, the sort of song you could imagine Bon Jovi delivering on the rare occasions they get it exactly right. It’s a fitting end to a record that never takes the obvious route.
For a debut, “I Am The Enemy” feels remarkably assured. It’s heavy without being blunt, melodic without sanding off its edges, and emotionally literate from start to finish. Austen Starr doesn’t arrive here as a work in progress — she arrives already in control, turning world-weariness into defiance, and doubt into something powerful.
RATING: 8/10
