Saskatoon songsmith Ellen Froese’s new single, “Solitary Song,” sums up exactly where she is right now: “It’s been a weird year—lots of life changes, maybe some ego-death.” Between an ADHD diagnosis and cutting back on some vices, her perspective—as a musician, a lover, a human being—has changed.

As soon as Froese starts “Solitary Song” with a tongue-in-cheek “Everybody, get ready to rock,” you get the vibe of an artist who’s charting her path towards reckless, joyful creativity. Froese had been clinging to the sense that she should be making art in a certain way, and she was never quite doing it right—gritting her teeth and writing daily morning pages, only to skip one day and think, “fuck, I guess I’m not creative.” But at this point in Froese’s career—4 full-length albums and many international tours deep—Froese is just trying to reclaim the free-flying feeling of writing “shit-ass songs” as a 15-year-old on her family’s cattle farm. On “Solitary Song,” Froese’s finding that feeling of just making music for the joy of it—and it is delightful.

“It’s like when you step out of a second cousin’s weird catholic wedding—or anywhere you don’t quite feel right—and you get a nice sunbeam, feel a little more yourself, and slide into some kind of clarity and contentment.” Froese says when describing her new work. “I wanted to capture that little moment, a sort of sudden oneness with the universe.”

Froese’s honeyed voice and wry, down-to-earth lyricism are on full display in “Solitary Song.” Commingling the sounds of past and present—say, Loretta Lynn meets Adrienne Lenker, with a dollop of good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll—it feels like Froese is looking you in the eyes as she sings of trying to find “a resolution between my heart and all the others that I had to leave behind.” With all the changes in her life, Froese reckons with all the wonderful feelings—and people—of the past, and the bitter-sweet freedom of moving on.

Solitary Song sounds like how it was made: hanging out with friends, trying to make one another smile. Recorded at RecHall studios in Saskatoon, this track—and its forthcoming album, Solitary Songs—was crafted during thoroughly collaborative sessions with long-time collaborators. Froese and friends would write new songs during little breaks—like when the engineer Barrett Ross stepped out one evening to look after his kid. The results feel jubilantly off-the-cuff, honest, and immediate.

Though so much has changed in Froese’s life, one fundamental truth remains: she’s deftly penning head-turning songs that invite the listener to let go of the things that are getting them down. It’s flirting with self-acceptance while indulging in a hearty spoonful of self-deprecation; it’s trying to be “happy in the confidence of a solitary song”; it’s getting your friends on board for some cheeky country-folk tunes. And nobody does those quite like Ellen Froese.