There’s a particular kind of magic that arises when an artist tells the truth—when their work doesn’t just reflect life but lives it out loud. Amanda Bjorn is one of those rare voices. Splitting her time between Los Angeles and Spain, the American singer-songwriter brings that honesty to the forefront with her debut album, That Kind of Woman, in July 2025.
With a sound rooted in Americana and folk, Bjorn brings a diaristic intimacy to her music, drawing from deeply personal terrain: navigating motherhood and postpartum mental health, wrestling with identity, and exploring the grief and grace woven through love and loss. Her voice—raw, explicit, and emotive—is a thread between these life chapters, binding them into something unshakably human.
Bjorn’s journey to this moment has been as expansive as her songwriting. After years of working in music alongside a partner and later stepping away to focus on photography and motherhood, she returned to songwriting with a renewed urgency and clarity. The eleven tracks on “That Kind of Woman” were recorded live in a single room over the summer of 2024 with longtime friend and producer Aaron Stern at Verdugo Sound, joined by a standout group of musicians, including members of Madison Cunningham, Foo Fighters, and Curtis Harding’s bands. The decision to forgo a click track in favor of live, improvisational energy lends the album a palpable warmth—honest, imperfect, and alive.
We have Amanda with us today, sharing all the details about one of the album’s most vulnerable songs, “Molly,” written in the immediate wake of personal heartbreak. She speaks candidly about grief, the catharsis of songwriting, and how this track—alongside the rest of “That Kind of Woman”—helped her transform pain into something beautiful. What unfolds is a portrait of an artist not only reclaiming her voice but offering it freely to those in search of their own.
You wrote “Molly” in the middle of a heartbreaking moment. What was going through your mind when the first lines came to you?
I wrote this song in the immediate days after losing our dog, Molly. I was halfway through a Sam Evian songwriting workshop and in the midst of writing an album, so I was glued to my guitar and notebook. I think being in that particular season of writing allowed me to step into that space quickly and write from this honest place of what was happening in my life. There was nothing else I could have written about in those weeks.
I think when anyone experiences loss, there is that intense initial need to see, hear, and hold them again. This song is about that longing to connect again and is for anyone who has experienced the rollercoaster of grief.
The emotional rawness in “Molly” is palpable. How did that song challenge you creatively, and what did you discover through its creation?
Finding the right production for this song took some time, as it’s inherently a sad song, but it’s performed in a way that feels uplifting and hopeful. I had to figure out the balance in singing, as I wanted it to feel tender and powerful simultaneously. We had an incredible group of musicians that immediately brought it to life, and we only did like maybe two or three takes.
You’ve said that songwriting can be transformative in periods of grief. How did this track, in particular, help you move through that experience?
I took a workshop with Adrienne Lenker, and she told us, “A song is a friend for life.” I’m not sure if the song helped me move through the blame and anger I was feeling, but it definitely became a source of comfort when I was writing and playing it. I still feel that heartbreaking connection to her whenever I listen to it. I think that’s exactly what Lenker meant by trying to find that as a songwriter.
Your debut album, That Kind of Woman, feels deeply personal, almost like a diary in song form. What inspired you to open up so vulnerably on this album?
Songwriting can be a stream of conscious meditation at its best, and I tried to follow that idea of process for this album. Tapping into what felt good and honest was important, while letting myself sit with both the struggles and joys I was experiencing. Every song on the album was written during a six-month period, so it really feels and reads like this very particular moment in time. I chose not to include any old songs in this body of work for those reasons.
How does Molly sit alongside the other tracks on That Kind of Woman? Does it serve as a kind of emotional anchor within the album?
Each of these songs feels raw and tender for their own reasons, but “Molly” was definitely the song that I was responding to a crisis in real time. Often, as an artist, I find we have to go through the trauma first, do a bit of processing, and then look back to find the words and chords for a song. There is that pause or breath that needs to happen to let everything sink in. It’s often too painful to write during the actual moment. I didn’t have that with this song, so it feels very raw. In comparison to the rest of the album, it’s fitting, though, as this collection of songs is all quite intimate and diaristic.
You touch on powerful themes like motherhood, identity, postpartum mental health, and the complexities of relationships. Was there a particular track that was especially difficult—or healing—for you to write?
“Molly” was quite difficult as my partner and I kept crying in the house when I would play it for him, but it was equally such an emotional release any time I did. There are two songs on the album, “Golden Boy” and “Walk to Mama,” that are about my son Rufus. It was challenging to find the right lyrics, as most words felt trite or incomplete. “Signs” and “River Wild” were written and finished just before we started recording, so production-wise, those were the most difficult to figure out.
You’ve collaborated with some incredible producers like Isa Machine and Bill Reynolds in the past. How did your approach to production evolve on this album compared to those earlier singles?
When I worked with Isa and Bill, I was in a band with my ex-partner for about five years and heavily depended on him for production and co-writing. We ended up going our own separate ways, and I focused primarily on photography and building a business, which felt light-years away from music. I was always writing but couldn’t ever finish a song. I eventually enrolled in several courses with the School of Song (the most beautiful community-based in LA), and it just helped jumpstart me to prioritize my songwriting. I was also postpartum and wildly determined to write an album. I reached out to an old friend, Aaron Stern, who built his own studio, Verdugo Sound, in Glassell Park, and just immediately felt connected and comfortable with him producing these songs. We both loved the idea of recording and finishing the songs within a three-month period rather than giving ourselves too much time to second-guess. He’s an incredible listener, and I couldn’t imagine doing the album with anyone else.
With your debut album releasing this July and tour dates on the horizon, what are you most looking forward to in this next chapter?
For the last decade, I have dreamed of putting out an album, so I will hopefully just let that moment truly sink in once it’s finally out… let myself soak in all that has happened over the last two years. I’m just excited for someone to fall in love with these songs and sing them while driving around in their car. Oh, and performing!
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