Bec Stevens - Big Worry (LP) - Translucent Magenta Vinyl

Some debut albums arrive with a whisper. Big Worry lands like a frank conversation across a pub table. After a couple of EPs and years of carving out a name on bills around the country, Adelaide-based songwriter Bec Stevens finally put her flag in the ground with this first full-length, released in April 2023 through Melbourne stalwarts Poison City Records. It’s lean, tuneful and unguarded, the kind of record that sounds like it was played by people in a room and then left a little rough at the edges on purpose.

If you caught the early singles, you knew where this was headed. James is the immediate handshake, a mid-tempo swell that starts like a diary entry and blooms into a chorus you’ll be humming while you’re stacking the dishwasher. The guitars have a satisfying crunch, the rhythm section keeps things moving without showboating, and Bec’s voice sits right up front, warm and unpretentious. There’s a slight grain to her delivery that carries both bite and care, as if she’s trying to be honest without turning anyone into a villain. It’s a neat trick, and it sets the tone for the whole album.

The title track pulls the curtain further. Big Worry is the thesis, a song about anxiety that never turns maudlin. Instead it leans into forward motion, with guitars that chime then surge, and a hook that feels like taking a deep breath on a cold morning. You can hear the lineage in there, that Australian strain of plainspoken indie rock that values feeling over flash. Fans of Camp Cope, The Smith Street Band or Alex Lahey will find familiar ground, but Bec isn’t chasing anyone. She just writes like someone who’s spent time on sticky carpets, watched old friends move interstate, and learned to say what she means.

A Comfortable Path might be the quiet killer. It starts small, almost like a note you’d leave on the fridge, then turns the screws on the idea of doing the easy thing just because it’s easy. The band locks in behind her, letting the words carry, then gives the chorus enough lift to linger. There’s a steadiness to the playing across the record that feels lived-in rather than polished. You get verses where the bass is patient, choruses where the guitars tangle, and little pockets of air where Bec lets a line hang for a beat longer than expected. It’s all simple moves, but simple is hard to get right.

The production keeps faith with the songs. Nothing feels overcooked, and there’s room to breathe. When the drums hit, they sound like drums in a room. When the guitars fuzz, they rough up the edges without swallowing the melody. On vinyl that balance pays off. I spun the Big Worry vinyl on a quiet Sunday arvo and the whole thing felt bigger, the guitars more three dimensional, the vocals a touch more present. If you go for that unvarnished, heart-on-sleeve indie sound, this is one of those Bec Stevens albums on vinyl that rewards a proper sit-down listen.

It helps that Poison City is behind it, a label that knows how to put out records that last and has become a byword for quality in this lane. If you’re the type who likes digging through a Melbourne record store for the next local classic, this belongs in your stack. And if you’re further afield, it’s easy enough to buy Bec Stevens records online through the usual outlets in vinyl records Australia land. Search for Bec Stevens vinyl and you’ll find a copy; just don’t sleep on it, because these smaller runs have a habit of disappearing.

What stands out most is the clarity of the writing. No grand gestures, no coy metaphors, just precise lines about being a person in 2023, trying not to get swallowed by the big stuff or the small. There’s anger, there’s tenderness, there’s even a bit of humour tucked into the phrasing, the way good friends talk when no one’s performing. The album finishes without fanfare, and you find yourself flipping the record back to side A because the room feels a touch different now.

Big Worry doesn’t try to reinvent anything. It doesn’t have to. It’s a debut that trusts the power of straight talk, sturdy melodies and a band that knows when to push and when to lean back. That’s the kind of honesty that keeps a record in rotation long after the release buzz fades. If you want something new to put on while the kettle boils, and something you’ll still reach for when you’ve got an hour to yourself, this is it.