Ane Brun will release “I Thought We Were the Same” on 6 November, her first album of newly written music in six years. Written over three years of upheaval, it draws on her account of discovering that a friend had deceived her. The songs examine the consequences for her confidence in other people and in her own judgement.
She describes the record as her most narrative-driven work in a career spanning more than two decades. Its sequence moves from codependency and stagnation through the rupture of betrayal, then towards rebuilding. She does not regard it as a romantic breakup album: the relationships examined take different forms, with the emphasis on their lasting effects, not on identifying the people involved or reconstructing their actions.
The musical direction extends the electronic pop of 2020’s “After the Great Storm”, with pulsing rhythms and substantial bass. She wanted clearer choruses and more distinct hooks without sacrificing emotional intensity.
“Hold Me”, written and produced with Norwegian electronic pop artist ARY, pairs nocturnal restlessness with a need for physical closeness. “We deceive ourselves to avoid feeling pain,” she says. “It’s about belonging.”
An independent artist since the beginning of her career, she had relied on intuition before major life changes left her feeling stuck. She also draws on her understanding of neuroscience to describe why emotional experiences persist: memories associated with powerful feelings can remain bodily felt even when conscious reasoning urges someone to move on.
“Eat the Fruit”, featuring Röyksopp, and “Hand in the Fire” express a sense that life contained possibilities she had not yet pursued. Their central images stand for forward movement, self-worth and ambition. These songs register a desire for change before she could fully articulate the upheaval ahead.
“How Can I Hold Your Hand” brings a feverish modern R&B approach and a collaboration with Emilie Nicolas, known for her work with Björk. Alongside “Lean Into the Wind”, it considers recognising when to release a relationship. The latter places liberation in the act of letting someone go, including when incompatible accounts of the world leave people without common ground.
That concern extends beyond private relationships to AI, deepfakes and geopolitical instability. For the songwriter, convincing falsehoods threaten the ability to trust perception itself. “Perhaps we should all be more aware of how valuable it is when someone trusts us,” she says.
The central trilogy addresses betrayal most directly. Soul ballad “Two in This Story” mourns the friendship at the heart of the record, including what that person once meant to her. “Re-evaluating You” allows doubt and grace to coexist, making room for a response that is not confined to condemnation.
The trilogy ends with “Can We Go Back”, a rhythm-driven alarm signal and the newest, rawest composition in the sequence. She likens its emotional rupture to an explosion: the deeper the preceding trust, the stronger the break.
The final three tracks shift attention towards what can be built afterwards. In the playfully light “Shock Treatment”, the force of revelation becomes constructive. “Certain Moments” settles into an unusual warmth and clarity, allowing unresolved feelings to remain without insisting on definitive answers.
“In These Waters” closes with the record’s grandest gesture, drawing on the scale and impact of 1980s synthpop. By this point, the title also addresses her former self, she explains. It acknowledges how profoundly the experience has changed her, giving the closing passage a different addressee from the songs directed outwards.
