Charlotte Lawrence’s debut album ‘Somewhere’ is a raw, poetic journey through heartbreak, identity, and the ache of growing up in real time. With haunting production, gut-punch lyrics, and a dusk-lit emotional palette, ‘Somewhere’ proves that Lawrence is far more than a one-hit wonder – she’s a pop powerhouse with something honest to say.

Stream: ‘Somewhere’ – Charlotte Lawrence

There are albums that break you, and then there are albums that find you when you’re already broken.

Charlotte Lawrence’s Somewhere is the latter – a slow emotional storm that rolls in like relief during a drought. I’ve been sleeping on Charlotte’s music for years. Sure, I loved “Joke’s on You” from the Birds of Prey soundtrack and found “Sleep Talking” addictively catchy, but I never really dove in. Never paid attention to her lyrics. Never let myself feel how cutting she could be as a songwriter. That changed the minute I pressed play on Somewhere.

Charlotte Lawrence 'Somewhere' album art — Charlotte Lawrence ‘Somewhere’ album art

Since its release on June 27^th, this album has been the backdrop to my writing routine and let´ s be real, most of my day-to-day activities. It’s become something more than just a collection of songs – it’s a companion piece to heartbreak, healing, creative longing, and womanhood. It soundtracks a specific emotional weather: Like standing in a summer downpour after a week of suffocating heat. Drenched. Breathless. Grateful.

Charlotte Lawrence is a Los Angeles-based singer, songwriter, and model. At just 25, she’s carved out a space that blends crisp indie pop with emotional vulnerability – leaning into bedroom-pop aesthetics with flashes of pop-rock drama. While she’s released a handful of singles and EPs before (Charlotte in 2021, Young in 2018), Somewhere marks her first full-length album. And it’s more than a debut – it’s a statement.

The album cover alone feels like a thesis. Lawrence floating in a vast body of water, face serene, script title curling in delicate cursive. It’s intimate and cinematic, capturing everything this album is about: Being lost, submerged, seen. With thirteen tracks (lucky 13), Somewhere is a rollercoaster of emotional clarity and sonic surprise. The songs weave between biting and tender, joyful and devastated – a masterclass in tonal fluidity. And more than once, I found myself muttering, “Wait, she wrote this?” out loud.

Charlotte Lawrence © 2025 — Charlotte Lawrence © courtesy of the artist

Let’s dissect each track the way they deserve.

“Somewhere,” the opening track and title song, greets you with something intimate and piercing. It’s the emotional core of the album – hazy, bittersweet, and soaked in longing. The line “I’m three beers away from losing my license for good” hit me like a whispered confession in the backseat of a car you shouldn’t be in. It’s not melodrama – it’s honesty. Lawrence doesn’t exaggerate; she exposes.

“Us Three” wasn’t a favorite for a while, but after a few listens it managed to knock the breath out of me. The lyrics such as “Hidden Hills can’t hide your habits” or “steal all the knives from the kitchen cupboard / chills down my spine, promise there’s no other” truly gave me goosebumps. The wordplay. The venom. The desperation. The raw ache. It brought tears to my eyes and made me wonder how the hell did it take me this long to appreciate it. They do say I am a late bloomer after all.

“Bodybag” comes in swinging. “Calm me down with ketamine, it’s better than you holding me.” It’s the kind of lyric that slices clean – bold, brutal, addictive. Not to mention how absolutely enamored I am with the use of the word body bag as a metaphor for death. It´s something fresh, something that makes you think twice. The production is sharp and haunted, immediately setting a mood that says: don’t get comfortable.

“Hollywould” is a beautifully done wordplay when it comes to the title, but the song itself? Masterpiece. It has everything it needs to have: Delicate intro, biting undercurrent. About youth, innocence, and danger. Definitely one of the most repeatable tracks. And yes, I’m obsessed.

“I Don’t Wanna Dance” is a gorgeous contradiction: Club lights, toxic romance, sleazy men, and the exhaustion of pretending you’re okay. It’s about being miserable in love and annoyed by the male gaze. Iconic.

“Better Then This” delivers a beat you can cry to and scream to. Much of it I’ve done myself. Written for a best friend going through heartbreak, it feels like the kind of song you blast while driving fast at night, windows down, tears stinging but not falling yet.

“Lola” had me fooled at first. With a name that echoes Charlotte’s own nickname, I thought it might be a letter to herself, about her rise to stardom. But no, it’s for someone she loved who hurt her. Still, it feels like self-reflection.

“Fear of Falling,” another easy favorite on the album, glows like late-night courage – the kind you find at the bottom of a text you shouldn’t send. It’s soft, hesitant, almost pleading. But it never begs. Instead, it lets the fear sit next to you, hold your hand, and say “same.” No wonder it occupies number 8 which happens to be my lucky number.

But it was the track titled “Dog” that officially converted me into a Charlotte Lawrence stan. One of my top three, the song is built around the metaphor of unrequited love: The ache of watching someone from the window, desperate to be noticed. Lawrence herself described it as loving someone who won’t even look your way – like a dog waiting at the door. It’s heartbreaking, yes, but also so vivid. So universal.

“Morning” was the track that I heard a while ago, before got released and I should have known back then that Charlotte Lawrence is a force to be reckoned with in the music industry

“Ballerina,” a sleeper standout, is a message to anyone who’s ever felt too insecure to be seen. Melodically rich, emotionally grounding – a true letter to self-acceptance.

Even “Violet Blue,” which I didn’t initially connect with, found a way in with its refrain, “Love is good, love is good.” A simple truth sung as if she’s convincing herself – and maybe the rest of us. And don’t even get me started on the outro…Or maybe do.

Last but most definitely not least there’s “Ophelia,” co-written by Gracie Abrams (which explains why it made the song sound like something familiar, something I heard before but in the best way possible). It’s soft, melancholic, intimate. It reminds me somewhat of Gracie´s song Amelia and I wonder if that is on purpose.

**What makes Somewhere so special is that it’s never just one thing.**

It’s not just about love or pain. It’s not just fun or moody. It’s about being twenty-something and feeling everything at once. It’s for the girls who laugh while crying, who romanticize dusk, who keep their heartbreak quiet but their playlists loud. This album has become my writing companion, my dusk soundtrack, my reminder that pop music can be poetic without trying too hard.

I thought I knew who Charlotte Lawrence was; now I realize I barely scratched the surface. She’s a powerhouse. A storyteller. A storm.

Who should hear this? Anyone who needs their opinion on Charlotte Lawrence changed. Anyone who’s never heard of her at all. She’s not just a pretty voice – she’s a whole hurricane. When? At dusk. Always dusk. Or late at night, when your skin is buzzing from too much feeling and too little sleep.

Somewhere isn’t just an album; it’s a mirror, a monologue, a moonlit swim through everything you haven’t said out loud yet.

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