There’s something haunted about a name left lingering in a phone note. “We should have named the band Bambi,” Grady Allen said, years too late and just in time. The phrase caught in his throat during a hotel room breakdown, somewhere on the tail end of endless tours, a cracked mirror of possibility reflecting who they were and who they could become. It stuck. And like all good ghosts, it came back—not as regret, but as a question: what if we built the band we never dared to be?
Bambi, the second LP from Anxious, isn’t a reinvention. It’s a confrontation. With burnout, with fractured relationships, with the expectations that come when your band suddenly matters to people who don’t know you. Written between tour stops and mental crashes, it’s not the polished, premeditated sequel some expected. It’s the byproduct of friction—internal, external, unrelenting.
The record traces the fault lines. You hear it in sunder, where Allen pulls apart the rupture between him and the rest of the band after entertaining the idea of leaving for school. You hear it in never said, where the whispered judgment of hardcore purists gets shrugged off, but not before the weight lands. These aren’t diary entries; they’re field notes from the uncomfortable middle. From growing apart while still sharing the stage.
Back in Connecticut, Anxious tried to rekindle something in the basement where little green house was born. But the time wasn’t there. Life had gotten louder. So the songs stayed unfinished until they hit Barber Shop Studios, where Brett Romnes didn’t just record Bambi, he coaxed it out. The process wasn’t romantic. It was necessary.
The result is something messier and wider than their debut. It folds in the ambitions of ‘90s alt-radio—the glimmer of clarity, the snarl of third eye blind, and the ghost harmonies of the beach boys at their most damaged.
Tracks like Counting Sheep and Head & Spine stretch anxious into new shapes: falsetto verses, jagged guitars, drum work that swerves between restraint and thunder. Elsewhere, next big star and audrey go again peel back with acoustic textures, leaving room for breath—and doubt.
But Bambi isn’t just sonic sprawl. It’s a study in how people hold on when the thing that once grounded them becomes the thing that unravels them. Allen and Melucci swap vocals like passing a letter they’re scared to sign. The themes are personal, but the discomfort is collective. Quarter-life breakdowns in rental vans. Venue curfews. Lost intimacy. The static between what you owe your younger self and what you can realistically sustain.
In our conversation with the band, Allen was clear-eyed about it all. He doesn’t mythologize the process. Writing lyrics wasn’t cathartic, just hard. Touring wore him down. School gave him space. It wasn’t a grand epiphany that brought him back—it was a few quiet shows last fall that reminded him what the noise was for.
As for the scene that shaped them, Connecticut still runs through their blood. Names like Wreckage, Utility, and Almighty Watching get name-checked. But anxious is no longer tethered to one place. The second act is in motion: sold-out returns to venues they once played to 15 people. Europe is next. Writing never stops.
The full interview with Anxious vocalist Grady Allen digs deeper into all of this—band tensions, creative process, illness on tour, missed moments, unexpected growth, and the long road ahead.
Hey, massive congrats again on dropping Bambi—it’s still so fresh, feels like it just landed yesterday, and here we are mid-tour already! Speaking of which, you guys kicked things off on March 11 in Philly, and by now you’ve rolled through DC, Richmond, and a bunch of other spots. How’s life on the road treating you so far? Any venues worth shoutouts? I’d love to hear about any wild road stories too, stuff that’s stuck with you, or maybe Ultra Q or Stateside pulling something memorable.
G: Tour has been really cool. It’s been really fulfilling to be headlining in all of these places and for people to be rolling out like they have been. Asheville, Austin, San Diego, and Los Angeles have been the highlights so far.
I’ve been incredibly sick this entire tour, which is the only downside. It’s only in the past day or so that I’ve felt like I have my feet back under me. I wish I had wild road stories to tell you- but we don’t really have any. Shows have been sick, ultra Q and stateside are great bands, incredibly thankful kids have been rolling out. That’s about all I can ask for.
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With dates stretching to April 11, are there any stops—like, say, Portland or Denver—where you’ve never played before that you’re hyped to hit? Looking ahead on this tour, you’ve got some heavy-hitters coming up—Bowery Ballroom, The Sinclair—places with real weight. Are there any you’re circling on the calendar?
G: We’ve played every city on this tour many times over the past couple years – but very few have been on our own shows. So it’s been really rewarding to come back to all of these places to headline.
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This back half of the tour should be fun. Chicago is probably the highlight for me. We played cobra lounge on our first tour ever and played to about 15 people. To be back there for a sold out show will be awesome.
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Shifting gears a bit—second albums always come with this insane buzz from fans and critics, like everyone’s holding their breath for what’s next after Little Green House. But forget them for a sec—what were your expectations going into Bambi? Did you have some loose ideas, like “we’re chasing this vibe,” or was it more of a blank slate that started shifting once you got into the basement and Brett Romnes started pushing you? I’m curious if you kicked off with a clear map or if the whole thing morphed as you went along.
G: This record was a really different process than little green house. We wrote that record during the pandemic with a seemingly infinite amount of time to perfect it. This record instead had to be written between touring. It just naturally wasn’t conducive with meticulous planning. It felt like a lot of it evolved and became realized in the studio.
Lyrically, Bambi’s got this natural, unguarded feel—like you’re peeling back layers of yourselves. I caught that track-by-track breakdown you did, and “Never Said” hit me hard with that exhaustion you talked about, Grady—those subtle whispers in the scene that wear you down. Did writing that feel like shaking something loose, or was it more like staring it down and realizing it’s just part of the game now? I’ve been in those circles too, and it’s wild how people cling to each other even when the masks are slipping. Then there’s “Sunder”. You mentioned that rift with the band when you were weighing school and Anxious, Grady, and how it left you feeling like you’d let everyone down. Was getting those words out a way to patch things up with yourself, or more like a letter you couldn’t send?
G: I found writing lyrics for this record to be difficult, but not really because of content. I hadn’t written lyrics seriously in a few years- and it was a real exercise to get back into the flow of it. There are plenty of songs where I don’t feel like I expressed myself as earnestly or as effectively as I could have. Sunder and I’ll be around are my favorites- but I think Never said leaves a lot to be desired. I think I’m pretty opaque on that song, particularly on the first half.
Stepping back from the songs for a sec—your bio mentions that hotel room moment, Grady, where “Bambi” popped up on your phone and sparked this whole “what if” vibe. Did that idea ever creep into the writing, like you were imagining a parallel Anxious that could’ve been? It’s such a cool thread, and I’m curious if it messed with your head while shaping the album.
G: I don’t think any of the writing was really aspirational. But I think we tried bigger ideas than we ever have. I think the two ideas (the name ‘Bambi’ and the songs) sort of formed independently of each other but had this natural cohesion. Both sort of represent what we wish and what we think anxious could be.
You guys went back to the same Fairfield County basement where Little Green House started, but it didn’t click until you hit the studio with Brett. What was it about that basement that didn’t quite work this time? Was it like trying to force an old pair of shoes to fit, or just a sign you’d outgrown that space creatively?
G: It was simply a time equation, not one of location. Our practice spot in that basement is where we write and practice everything. But between touring so constantly and having other obligations there just wasn’t that space to just hunker down and write there. So songs didn’t really come together until we got to the studio with Brett. It was there that everything was able to come together.
Touring’s been your life for two years straight—Asia, the States, everywhere—and it sounds like it nearly broke you before Bambi came together. Was there a moment on the road where you felt that shift, like “nah, this is still worth it”? Maybe some random gig or a late-night chat that pulled you back in?
G: Taking some time away to be back in school this past fall really provided that reflection point for me. It was good for me to have my head in a totally different space and to have time away from everything.
We played a handful of shows last October on the way down to Furnace Fest and those felt really special to me. They were our first shows since the summer and I hadn’t realized how much I missed everything until that moment.
Switching it up—your Connecticut scene’s always had this gritty, heartfelt energy, and you’re carrying that torch. What’s cooking back home these days? Any local acts—like, totally under-the-radar stuff—that you’ve caught lately and wanna shout out? I’m always hunting for hidden gems, and you’re plugged in there.
G: Check out Wreckage, Utility, and Almighty Watching. Those are Connecticut bands I really love.
2025 has been a hell of a year for music—what albums grabbed you guys? Anything you’ve had on repeat in the van, or maybe something that snuck up on you and changed how you hear things?
G: I have been listening to: Dead on your Feet, Autoignition, Aphex Twin, Death Cab for Cutie, Loud and Clear, Straw Man Army, Jawbreaker, New World Man, Glean, Nala Sinephro, and My Vitriol.
Last one—here I am in Warsaw, scribbling this from my flat, and I’ve gotta ask: any chance you’ll swing through Europe after this US run? You’ve got fans over here dying to scream along to Bambi!
G: We’ll be coming to Europe for the first time this Summer. Hopefully more details announced soon.
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Beyond the tour, what’s the rest of 2025 looking like—more road time, chilling out, or maybe sneaking back into the studio already?
G: This year is mainly about touring- we have a lot lined up. But we’re always writing so I’m sure we will be recording sooner than any of us think.
Thanks so much for your time guys. All the best on the road and feel free to share your final words!
G: Thank you for having me, it means a lot.
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