At just 24, that break was also essential for her own self-discovery. “I didn’t know what I wanted to say,” she admits. “So I took the time to figure out the kind of artist I wanted to be before jumping into a new label.” 

She orders a caramel latte and swirls a spoonful of sugar into the mug. “My boyfriend has a sugar addiction and I would make fun of him, but I got used to him cooking everything so sweet,” she says. “I can’t have a regular coffee anymore.”  

The aptly titled Quarter Life Crisis, a collection of vignettes pulled straight from the young singer-songwriter’s journal, manages to be both self-assured and openly unsure, capturing the uncertainty that comes with being 25. “No stop/No end/Just one big/State of confusion,” she sings on “Poster.” 

“25 sucks,” she says, laughing. “It’s the worst era ever because you think you’re old, but you’re so young and you don’t know anything.” When that milestone came around the bend, she was devastated to find herself nowhere near the perfect life she had pictured: married with kids and a successful career to boot. “That image of a 25-year-old is absolutely not accurate. I learned the hard way and I made this album to reassure the youth that this shit is normal,” she says. 

Like a vintage slide projector, the album flips through the typical plot points of that age. The break-ups, betrayals, regrets, and repairs flash one by one, accompanied by a propulsive pop soundtrack. It’s a juxtaposition that does justice to the low lows and high highs of that era, with early 2000s rock tones washing it all in a nostalgic haze. 

These sonic images, so carefully wrought with confessional lyrics and pitch-perfect production, actually originated from visuals. “When I write, I have an image in my head, like a painting,” she shares.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ll just recreate how the painting makes me feel. It’s very, very clear, but I can’t draw for shit, so I sing.” 

The melodies she manifests become not only the lyrics, but all the instrumentation featured on the album. Though Laraw only plays guitar, she developed every sound using her voice. Her producers, intuitive and skilled players, translated her emotions and ideas into fully formed soundscapes. “They helped me create those songs by understanding and talking and being patient while I was crying. A lot of crying. They’ve seen me cry from every angle,” she adds with a laugh. 

Laraw, at such a difficult age, embraced uncertainty and embarked towards the unknown. That bravery shows up in her music, where she shares her innermost fears, dreams, and desires. Quarter Life Crisis is a time capsule that makes everyone feel a little less alone. And filtered through Laraw’s glamour and grace, it’s been dipped in gold. 

Laraw will perform two album release parties: May 2 at Bar Le Ritz (Montreal) and May 9 at the Baby G (Toronto)