Abigail

Where "Feeling Lucky" floats, this one aches. "Abigail" finds Soccer Mommy in a more plainspoken, confessional register — the production is still warm and guitar-forward, but the mood has contracted, turned inward. There's a specific kind of longing here that feels almost adolescent in its intensity, the way a feeling can become larger than its object, spilling out past whatever actually happened into something harder to name. Allison writes about other women with a mix of admiration and yearning that never quite resolves into either envy or desire — it's more complicated, more intimate than either of those. The guitar lines are cleaner here, the arrangement less smeared, which actually makes the vulnerability more exposed rather than less. Her vocal delivery stays understated even when the emotional weight increases — she doesn't reach for power or drama, which makes the moments when her voice catches feel more significant. The song moves slowly, unhurried, the way grief or longing tends to move when you stop trying to push through it. It sits in the lineage of confessional indie songwriting — Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers — where the restraint is the art form. You'd listen to this late at night when you can't sleep because someone is occupying your thoughts and you can't decide if that's a good or bad thing.