Behind: Loveland by Suki Waterhouse
Written by Taylor Walker
There is something so effortlessly captivating about Suki Waterhouse's music, and Loveland is a beautiful reminder of just how special her artistry can be. She has this incredible ability to make music feel nostalgic, romantic and slightly melancholic all at once, as though every song belongs to a memory you haven't quite made yet. There is a dreamlike quality to her sound that makes it incredibly easy to get lost in, and Loveland feels like stepping into a world that is equal parts beautiful and bittersweet.
What I particularly love about Suki's music is the way she captures the complicated nature of love. There is never just one emotion running through her songs. Romance is accompanied by uncertainty, happiness by sadness, and longing by a sense of acceptance. She manages to make vulnerability feel effortless, with her breathy vocals and hazy production creating an atmosphere that feels incredibly intimate. Rather than presenting love as something perfect or uncomplicated, there is an underlying sense of imperfection that makes the music feel all the more genuine.
The album's greatest strength is its atmosphere. It feels almost cinematic, like the soundtrack to a coming-of-age film set somewhere between a summer romance and a heartbreak you haven't quite recovered from. There is a wonderful vintage quality to Suki's sound, but it never feels like she is simply trying to recreate the past. Instead, she takes inspiration from nostalgic sounds and gives them a distinctly personal identity. Her music feels timeless without losing its individuality.
I also think Suki has a particularly interesting relationship with storytelling. Her songwriting often feels like reading somebody's diary, offering little glimpses into relationships, memories and emotions without needing to explain every detail. There is something lovely about being able to interpret a song through your own experiences, and that is exactly what makes her music so easy to become attached to. You can listen to the same track in completely different stages of your life and somehow find a new meaning in it each time.
What makes Loveland so enjoyable is that it doesn't demand your attention through enormous production or dramatic musical moments. Instead, it draws you in quietly. It is an album that feels best experienced with headphones on, preferably on a late-night walk, during a long drive or while watching the world pass by through a window. It creates its own little universe, and for the duration of the record, you almost don't want to leave it.
Ultimately, Suki Waterhouse has a gift for making music that feels like nostalgia, even when you cannot quite identify what you are nostalgic for. Loveland is romantic without being overly sentimental, melancholic without becoming depressing and dreamy without ever feeling empty. It is the kind of album that reminds you why you fell in love with music in the first place: not necessarily because of one particular lyric or melody, but because of the feeling it leaves behind.
Some albums are made to be played loudly, sung along to and shared with everyone. Others feel like little secrets you want to keep to yourself. Loveland is undoubtedly the latter, and I think that is precisely what makes it so lovely.