Written over the course of a year, with a cloud of depression following Gunn, she felt like her life was ending. “A lot of these songs are this weird process of, “What would I say to people if this was my last day on Earth? And then realising there was actually so much to live through that.” Parts of her life are embedded within the record, opening with a voice memo from Gunn’s high school best friend on “I Miss Everything,” and bookended with a voice note of a song once sung by Gunn’s former partner. She further delves into lyrical reflections on her past relationships, tinkering with perceptions, and the expectations placed on her about who she should be. “I feel like throughout a lot of these songs, I’m talking about giving people this version of myself that they claim they want, and I’m trying to be almost this uncanny, perfect thing.”

While the album title alone demands attention for its sheer oddity, Gunn explains that as an American, she had never heard of the 2013 scandal in which DNA testing revealed horsemeat in a range of European food products labeled as beef. As the event was being described to her, another person in her circle remarked that 2013 horsemeat scandal sounded like the title of a Lonnie Gunn song. She saved the phrase on her phone and later realized that, even though “saying it out loud, it sounds fucking crazy,” she could find psychological threads in the story that tie to her own experience. “There’s so many flaws in my performance of presenting a version of myself…the one that people want me to be. It wouldn’t matter if I tried to fit into that version because people will see what they want to see anyway. Just like this scandal, people didn’t think they were eating horsemeat lasagna until someone said it to them, and suddenly they were horrified, but nothing really changed,” she explains. “They just had more knowledge than before.”

After visiting the UK in 2018, Gunn moved there a year later, leaving behind a life in America where she felt isolated and unhappy. The impulsive decision was inspired in part by a bartender making fun of her for dropping a drink. Rather than feeling insulted, Gunn found the exchange refreshing. “I liked the freedom of having people laugh at me. I loved that willingness to have a sense of humour about things.” Growing roots between London and Brighton, Gunn believes the person writing her songs has remained fundamentally the same, but the cultural contrast has sharpened her approach. British audiences, she observes, can initially appear reserved, making her determination to spill her guts out feel even more necessary. “I know that there are gonna be rooms where people are scared to dance, and I’m just gonna be yelling at them anyway about how I feel,” she says. Gunn also reflects fondly on the meaningful interactions she’s had in the UK with shy, younger women who’ve approached her after shows, sharing that her songs have given them an outlet. It’s easy to understand why, as Gunn, who lives with chronic pain, writes candidly about womanhood, the experiences they are often expected to conceal, as well as the exhaustion of appearing desirable while quietly struggling.