One of the most honest and charming songwriters of her ilk, Stella Donnelly’s music has always painted an intimate scene. The Welsh Australian’s essential 2019 debut Beware of the Dogs was lyrically dense, exploring many difficult topics — domestic violence, toxic masculinity, power imbalances, dodgy employers and even awkward Christmas lunches — atop jangling guitars and the impassioned, sometimes cheeky delivery of a young singer with the world at her feet. After stepping back through the pandemic, her second album Flood was a stark sonic departure, swapping lively strumming for moody synths and muted horns for a less witty, but still captivating effort.
Love and Fortune, released on November 7th, is Donnelly at her most restrained, writing as she mourned the loss of a close friendship. It’s a gentle and refined listen, with a small palette of instruments that accompany her controlled voice. She tosses and turns in regret and self-blame, but comes out the other side more content than she started.
The album loosely follows Donnelly stepping through the stages of grief. Feel It Change begs for her friend’s return, or at least a sign of life, as she yearns, “I made a wish upon a satellite/ That you’d come over, tell me I was right/ That I’m the perfect friend who does no harm/ That you still love me, we could carry on.” In the piano ballad Friend, the singer contemplates if she’s better without them, but can’t help but wonder what they’re up to nowadays in the devastating Year of Trouble, when she accepts the breakdown was entirely her fault.
Her emotions boil over on W.A.L.K, a slow burner in which Donnelly tries to strut forward and outline a new mission: “Take back my little life and push you away/ I set myself on fire for someone else’s flame,” a truly remarkable lyric, a realisation of a one-sided relationship that hits nauseatingly close to home. A climax of beautiful layered vocal harmonies accompanies, making for one of the most exciting musical moments on this otherwise minimalistic album.
And that is perhaps my only gripe with Love and Fortune. Donnelly is an energetic, funny performer on stage, constantly quipping and dancing with her bandmates. This persona complements her earlier, wittier music, but perhaps her 2026 shows will take a simpler approach, ditching the sleigh bells and harmonica that joined previous tours. Donnelly’s vocals compliment a simple piano tune wonderfully, but Love and Fortune’s best moments are when the full band gets involved. Feel It Change, a standout, maintains a steady, upbeat propulsion all the way through, with jangling guitars guiding her longing. In comparison, the sterile spoken-word vignettes Baths and Friend, clocking in under two minutes each, don’t leave a lasting impression.
I worry that more passive listeners won’t give this album the time it deserves, because some songs take a few minutes to fully develop: the opener Standing Ovation, for example, begins with a solemn vocal passage, soaked in reverb as if recorded in an empty church, and joined only by a moody synth. Two minutes later, the guitars finally start strumming and chiming, then the drums — the song takes on another life, as if you’ve reached the next track.
Love and Fortune ends with the well-deserved reprieve Donnelly has spent the prior 30 minutes mulling over, delivering the most self-assured lyrics on the project: “You’re leaving feathers every time you fly away/ Babe, cut the string,” she wishes of her lost friend, ready to move on. Now, I can’t wait to hear what Donnelly can bring us next with the weight of these experiences finally off her shoulders.
