Paul Klein and Jake Goss of LANY at Bric-a-Brac Records in Chicago The Xavierite
Having a band that your life kind of revolves around is rare, but when it happens, it’s magic. Everyone has that one artist who just gets them–whose songs feel like old friends—the ones you can play and immediately be transported back to a random Monday in high school, sitting in your mom’s car, pretending life wasn’t as confusing as it felt. For me, that band has always been LANY.
They’ve been in my life for almost nine years now–the backdrop to every version of me since middle school. I’ve seen them live four times (and cried real tears when I couldn’t make one of their tours). I’ve screamed their lyrics at concerts, in cars, in bedrooms, and in heartbreak. This year, I finally got to meet them, which still doesn’t feel real.
When I heard LANY’s sixth studio album, “Soft,”, was dropping, I had that weird mix of excitement and fear. Like, what if it doesn’t hit the same? Spoiler: it did, and then some.
“Soft” feels like LANY’s most grounded album yet. It’s not dramatic or overproduced. It’s emotional, cinematic, and quietly confident. The title track, opens the album, and it’s everything I love about LANY rolled into one song: dreamy synths, slow heartbeat rhythm, and lyrics that make you want to stare out the window and romanticize your commute. It’s all about the gentleness that comes with loving someone; not the fireworks kind of love, but the quiet kind that stays.
Then there’s “The Sound of Rain,” the track that completely wrecked me (in the best way). It’s been on repeat since release day. The production literally sounds like rainfall: soft percussion and glimmering guitar that let the vocals melt perfectly into the rest of the song. It feels like a song that could only exist in a moment of stillness when you’re sitting in the dark just thinking about everything you’ve ever felt.
That’s what LANY has always been best at: making emotion feel cinematic. Even when they sing about heartbreak, it doesn’t sound hopeless. It sounds like healing — like saying: “yeah, this hurts, but I’ll still get up tomorrow.”
Throughout “Soft,”, the band leans into simplicity in a way that feels refreshing. They’re not trying to chase trends or top charts. They’re making music that feels honest. The album closes with “Last Forever,” which is the kind of ending that makes you want to sit in silence afterward.
It’s mellow and reflective, like the credits rolling on a film you’re not ready to leave. The track feels peaceful—not sad, just full of acceptance. Honestly, that’s what Soft captures perfectly: that sense of peace you find after chaos.
What really stands out about this album is how it mirrors the band’s growth — and mine, too. When LANY started in 2014, their music was all neon lights and heartbreak pop. Now, it feels like morning sunlight. Still nostalgic, still emotional, but more self-aware. They’ve grown up with us, and “Soft” feels like the soundtrack to that growing-up process, full of learning, forgiving, and figuring it out one verse at a time.
Meeting them this year made that connection even stronger. They were just as kind and down-to-earth as their music makes you believe. Listening to “Soft” after that felt almost personal, like catching up with friends you haven’t seen in years but who somehow still understand you completely.
For me, “Soft” isn’t just an album. It’s another chapter in the story of a band that’s seen me through everything: the heartbreaks, the late-night writing sessions, the existential crises, and the moments that made me feel alive again. It’s proof that their music doesn’t just age well, it grows with you.