[Editor’s Update – March 2026]: This review has been expanded to cover Soft 2, the 5-track addition that transforms the record from a dreamy love letter into a desperate plea for devotion. Scroll down to see our breakdown of the new tracks: Finish Me, When Did You Stop Loving Me?, and more.
There’s a special kind of ache only LANY can bottle. That echoey, late-night-driving-through-your-feelings type of melancholy wrapped in synths, sighs, and self-doubt. With Soft, Paul Klein and Jake Goss return to that original LANY magic, where everything hurts a little, but in a way that makes you want to keep feeling it.
This album isn’t so much a reinvention as it is a resurfacing. It’s a sonic journal of romantic epiphanies and emotional unpacking, with just enough shimmer to keep it from sinking under the weight of its own heartbreak.
“Soft” opens like a love letter scrawled across a fogged-up mirror. It’s dreamy, pure-hearted, and wholly devoted, Paul’s voice floating above a bed of airy synths as he paints a picture of her as untouchable, perfect, mythic. It’s LANY at their most romantic, no cynicism in sight. Just wide-eyed wonder.
But right after that, Why rushes in, not to question the relationship, but to question everything else. Why does anything matter when you’re in love like this? It’s a track about throwing caution (and maybe common sense) to the wind, and choosing love as the only truth that counts. It’s frantic and euphoric, a messy sort of devotion that pulses with urgency. The lyrics don’t beg, they declare.
And then Know You Naked slides in, lowering the lights. It’s intimate, sure, but not just for the sake of heat. There’s a depth here, a need to feel close when words don’t cut it anymore. It’s the musical equivalent of that moment when touching someone feels like the only way to say “I still care.” Paul’s delivery is delicate, a little desperate, and deeply human.
From there, the emotional spiral tightens with Stuck, one of the most affecting tracks on the album. It aches in that classic LANY way, lush instrumentation, heart-tugging lyrics, and a gentle late-track shift that adds an extra layer of emotional weight. “Even if your love run dry, I would never say goodbye” hits like a sucker punch to the chest. It’s pure devotion wrapped in sparkly sadness.
“Sound of Rain” walks through heartbreak like it’s a city; lonely, poetic, and strangely familiar. Paul takes us on a journey through late nights and foreign places, but no matter how far he runs, the ghost of this love lingers. The beat builds then falls again, echoing the way grief works: it rises when you least expect it, then disappears into quiet. It’s a standout for its cinematic mood and lyrical sharpness.
And then comes Act My Age, which cuts deeper than any love song. It’s not about heartbreak, it’s about uncertainty. For anyone who’s moved away, chased a dream, or just wondered if you’re on the right path, this one stings. “All of my friends back home got married while I’m still going on first dates.” Brutal. It’s one of the most vulnerable songs LANY’s ever released, and while it could’ve peeled back another emotional layer or two, it still offers a soft place to land for anyone who feels left behind or out of sync with life’s timeline.
Good Parts turns the spotlight back on a past relationship, this time with tenderness and a touch of pleading. Paul doesn’t care how he’s portrayed to the outside world, he just hopes she remembers it right. The line “I will always love you and hate that it had to end” is devastating in its simplicity. It’s a request that we’ve all silently made at the end of something good.
But there’s light ahead. Make Me Forget signals a turning point, the cautious excitement of someone new. The lyrics admit to emotional baggage, but the chorus chant, “You make me forget,” turns into a kind of healing spell. It’s hopeful, but not naïve. It’s love after damage, and it feels earned.
Then Destiny sweeps in with the kind of synth-glow that reminds us LANY can do joy, too. It’s the most upbeat moment on the album, driven by reverb-heavy beats and a catchy rhythm that’s tailor-made for a late-night drive. Not the deepest track here, but a welcome breath of air after so much introspection.
And finally, we land on last forever. Already teased through its stunning music video, the track closes the album like a quiet promise. It doesn’t tie everything up neatly, because life doesn’t, but it offers something close to peace. It’s soft, sincere, and exactly where this journey needed to end.
The Expansion: Enter Soft 2
Just as we thought the journey was over, LANY opened the journal back up. With the release of Soft 2, five new tracks have been woven into the fabric of the album, expanding the landscape of Paul Klein’s introspection. If the original record was a “long text message you never sent,” these new additions are the voice notes recorded in the silence of the aftermath—raw, desperate, and deeply devoted.
- I’m Doing Alright: Don’t let the title fool you; it’s the sound of someone trying to keep their head above water. It’s that mid-tempo groove that masks a deeper uncertainty, capturing the repetitive nature of moving on while the heart is still anchored in the past.
- Prettiest Thing I’ve Ever Seen: This feels like a spiritual successor to the title track Soft. It’s a return to that wide-eyed, cinematic admiration, proving that even through the heartbreak, Paul hasn’t lost his ability to be completely floored by the beauty of the person he loves.
- How To Hold An Angel: A fragile, ethereal moment. The production here is feather-light, matching the lyrical theme of trying to grasp something that feels too good, or too fleeting to be real. It’s the anxiety of having something perfect and being terrified you’re going to drop it.
- When Did You Stop Loving Me?: The heavy hitter. This is the heart-shattering centerpiece of the expansion. It’s a slow-burn interrogation of a love that died in silence, stripping away the synth-shimmer to reveal a raw, hollowed-out ache.
- Finish Me: This is the ultimate, desperate plea. It’s Paul at his most vulnerable, begging for the relationship to survive because the alternative is unimaginable. It’s the sound of someone who can’t see a “version 2.0” of their life without her in it, a heavy, atmospheric track that feels like a last-ditch effort to save a soulmate.
Soft isn’t just an album, it’s a long text message you never send. It’s airport goodbyes and voice notes at 1am. It’s what LANY does best: soft sounds for hard feelings. And while Soft is stunning in headphones, nothing beats a LANY live show, we cannot wait to see how this one hits on stage. Until then, relive the magic with our review from their last NZ gig.
This is a record that lives in the space between what was and what could’ve been. It won’t scream at you, but it will sit with you. And maybe, gently, ask if you’re okay.
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