Insider Beat: Allegra Krieger is hiding in plain sight on 'Art of the Unseen Infinity Machine'

There's a distinct energy that fuels Allegra Krieger's "Art of the Unseen Infinity Machine" — a swirling, 13-track exploration of philosophical dilemmas, with life and death functioning at its core. In just more than 30 minutes, the album thoughtfully examines heady themes without ever becoming bogged down by them.

Like the great folk artists and singer-songwriters before her, Krieger has mastered the essential qualities that define any truly impactful artist: vulnerability and intimacy.

Even as listeners engage with her music through a lens of detachment — the closest some fans will come to experiencing her work in its rawest form is the act of pressing her icon on their streaming platform of choice and hearing her voice crackle through headphone speakers — Krieger achieves the impossible. Reflecting on a tumultuous year, she taps into a space that not only deepens her bond with her audience but also serves as fertile ground for her own artistic evolution.

In an interview with The Daily Targum, the emerging indie-folk talent discussed the process of crafting her newest release and pulling from a variety of sources, namely the people she's crossed paths with and the roads she's walked.

Longtime listeners will attest to Krieger's consistency and impressive body of work, specifically her previous release, "I Keep My Feet on the Fragile Plane," a powerful rumination on faith and existence. But for many, her latest collection of songs will serve as their introduction to the artist.

Krieger has noticed the surge of new fans, and while inviting fresh perspectives into the intimate circle she's cultivated may seem daunting, it has also reaffirmed her beliefs and revealed the beauty of a broader audience.

"You release a record, and most of the time, nothing happens," she said. "This record cycle has felt like there's a little bit more of an energy behind it … It's been really nice. It's been really awesome to tour and see people's connection to it."

From the moment you press play on the opener, "Roosevelt Ave," certain qualities of the artist are immediately clear. Krieger wears her influences proudly — Elliott Smith and Fiona Apple echo in the airy vocals and rich, introspective lyricism. The album's atmosphere, too, is unmistakable. If the track's title doesn't give it away, the music itself evokes the feeling of walking down a street in New York, caught between moments of softness and anxiety.

Having spent some time in New York, Krieger has become well-acquainted with both the city's rhythm and its atmosphere. Like many aspiring artists, she arrived in the Big Apple with little more than modest savings and a dream. What began as a casual hobby gradually transformed into a tangible, defining pursuit.

"I would play the most random gigs to literally nobody (two), three times a week," she said. "Through that, I feel like I got better at playing live and just started booking my own tours ... I definitely have changed and grown a lot just by listening to my peers and meeting all these other kinds of awesome artists in New York."

It's the East Coast environment that has subtly infused her sound. Through years of basking in it and working odd jobs as a bartender and server, she's observed a particular brooding and bluntness simmering just beneath the surface of small talk. While this thorniness may be harsh or off-putting to some, for her, it's "endearing" and fosters a sense of "communion." Everything sucks, but at least the East Coasters are all in it together.

The entries on "Art of the Unseen Infinity Machine" come together to form a time capsule of life in New York City in your late 20s, when the past is just starting to make sense, but the weight of new issues looms. It's amazing that despite the album's cohesive themes and through lines of understated instrumentation, Krieger didn't set out to create it with something specific in mind.

In fact, curating the album has been a relatively long process — one of the standouts, "Came," was written years ago while she was on tour, killing time in the back of a car before a show. Instead of forcing anything, she let the pieces fall into place naturally.

"I don't typically think about writing for specific albums," she said. "When it comes time to record a record ... I sort of go through the songs I have written and just pick ones that sort of live in the same world."

One of the few pieces specifically written for the album was "One or the Other," a poignant retelling of a recent traumatic experience in which a fire engulfed her apartment. While addressing this subject matter invited the opportunity for both listeners and critics to potentially scrutinize a deeply personal ordeal, it also provided Krieger a chance to heal and reflect.

Amid the confusion of the aftermath, sitting down to play a song brought a sense of clarity.

"I really remember that kind of feeling when I was able to go get my guitar and just feeling shaken up and kind of like, 'What? What just happened?'" she said. "It is very cathartic whenever you can sort of organize your maybe chaotic feelings into something that makes sense. And songs can make sense ... You can always tap into that emotion and remember it and honor it but also sort of leave it behind."

As Krieger embarks on her next project, one she's already begun working on and arranging, the "Infinity Machine" continues chugging along. In an era where down-to-earth musicians are increasingly rare, her remarkable discography stands as a testament to her rising talent.

As she reflects on her journey, she offers some parting advice for musicians in similar situations, or for those just stepping off the platform at Penn Station, ready to begin a New York odyssey of their own. While she has laid her heart and soul into the recording booth, she stresses the importance of setting personal boundaries. Like everything in life, music necessitates balance.

"It's really easy to get burnt out by the hustle that's a result of being a musician," she said. "Playing music and sharing art is just inherently a good thing. I'm like, 'Keep going,' but also protect your well-being."