Suki Waterhouse's latest album, 'Loveland', is everything you'd expect and more. Across 14 tracks, she leans fully into the dreamy, romanticised world she's been building for years, but this time it feels more lived-in and, in some ways, comforting. It's the kind of album you can leave on repeat all year round; it's warm enough for summer road trips, soft enough for cosy winter evenings, and emotionally messy in all the right ways.
Rather than reinventing herself on this album, Waterhouse doubles down on hazy vocals, cinematic storytelling, and an ability to make even the smallest emotional detail feel like a life-or-death moment.
Opener 'Back in Love' sets the tone perfectly. It's bright and inviting. The production is lush without being overwhelming, giving her voice space to float yet be powerful at just the right moments. It feels like that first rush of deciding to give love another chance, and feeling that "lust for life, turning the dark into light".
'Any Man' keeps the momentum but adds in a slightly sharper edge, mixing frustration with desire as she catalogues the "pattern" she's trying not to repeat. It juxtaposes nicely with the next track, 'Happy With It', which pushes the album back into softer-sounding territory. Over gorgeous layers of guitar and a strong drumbeat, it reflects on a relationship that isn't perfect, where the decision you've made means you are losing yourself to what your partner expects you to be.
'Notting Hill', paired with its music video, is a clear highlight. Both the video and song lean into romantic imagery of city streets in the morning and fleeting glances at love, a life that's half fantasy and half memory. The song makes fans feel nostalgic for the film Notting Hill, with her lyricism giving an ode to the film in her own fantastical way with a more modern and self-aware perspective. Props must also be given to multi-instrumentalist and producer Jules Apollinaire, featuring on multiple songs, providing a beautiful and textured performance of guitar and bass; however, the keyboard really stood out in this song.
Tracks like 'Teardrops' and 'Almost' sink deeper into heartbreak. 'Teardrops' captures the sadness of watching something so fun fall apart in slow motion; a song solidified by an engaging collaboration with indie musician Declan McKenna, playing drums too. Meanwhile, 'Almost' lives in the space between what could have been and letting unresolved feelings fester in your mind, ultimately fantasising about what-ifs.
'When I Get Drunk (I Want You Boy)' has a sound that is quintessentially Waterhouse's style, with production that makes it play like a late-night drunk phone call, blurring judgment and honesty as she admits that no matter how much she tries to move on, he's still the person her heart wants. It's messy and a little reckless in a way that feels oddly relatable to listeners.
Songs like 'Jukebox' keep the record from becoming too heavy. It's a love letter to the songs that soundtrack our lives, skipping through influences and moods. 'Seasons' traces a relationship across shifting emotions from loneliness through grief of a fading love, and ultimately, "I wish / I could start again", moving from the optimism of being in love to the muted tones of creeping doubt and increasing distance, like watching life go from spring to winter.
'Tiny Raisin' is delightfully odd, using unique imagery and a punch of self-deprecating humour to explore insecurity and affection, rounding out the album's emotional palette. What could have been a throwaway deep cut instead feels like the thesis of the record: love makes you feel small and strange and a little bit ridiculous. Reminding you that even at your most vulnerable, there's space to laugh at yourself and keep on going.
The album then turns to power dynamics and self-reflection with 'Puppy Dog Eyes', a song about falling for someone whose manipulation is hidden in charisma, which you can hear in not just the words but the power of her vocals and heavy bass riffs. 'Morals' questions how far you'll bend your values for the sake of keeping someone close.
The title track, 'Loveland', feels like the emotional centrepiece, pulling together the elements of fantasy and fear. It's less a literal place than an emotional escape of memories, wishes, and what-ifs. Closer 'Wierdo' is a beautiful final song, a tender, half-defiant anthem for anyone who has ever felt too strange or too much. Rather than smoothing out those edges, it suggests those so-called flaws are exactly what make someone worthy of real affection.
Ultimately, it's an album about feeling everything, even when it's inconvenient or embarrassing. Its dreamy production and romantic yet quietly devastating lyrics will linger long after it ends.
Francesca Wood
Image: 'Loveland' Official Album Cover