After years of restless migration—from Chicago’s gritty indie scene to off-grid Taos winters, sunless Icelandic residencies, and finally the surprising calm of Los Angeles—Lillie West has landed somewhere she never expected: the present moment. Heaven 2, her Sub Pop debut dropping February 27, 2026, is the sonic diary of that arrival. Ten tracks long and just over 33 minutes, the album feels like a deep exhale after a decade of holding breath.

Co-produced with Jay Som’s Melina Duterte in what West calls a “telepathic” partnership, Heaven 2 marries the hazy, guitar-tinged quirk of classic Lala Lala with bolder electronic textures. Synths shimmer like heat haze over desert roads, drums hit with crisp punchiness, and West’s warm, rounded voice floats above it all—sometimes murmuring like a late-night confession, sometimes swelling into cathartic clouds. Guests add perfect color: Sen Morimoto’s saxophone curls through opener “Car Anymore” like morning mist, while Porches’ Aaron Maine pens a bridge for the title track that turns gloom into gospel.

Thematically, the record is a gentle but insistent sermon on presence. “There are symbols and signs, you’re missing your life,” West sings on the swaying single “Even Mountains Erode,” a track that feels like pop-rock reborn with fresh polish and trip-hop undertow. “Arrow,” sampling French electro-pop band La Femme, races forward with joyful disbelief—“None of this was supposed to happen”—capturing the thrill of surrender. The title cut “Heaven2” starts melodrama-drenched and ends in a massive, rain-washed instrumental outro that feels like absolution. Closer “Wyoming Dirt” strips everything to delicate piano and raw vulnerability, turning numbness into something almost holy.

Not every lyric lands with the gut-punch precision of The Lamb; some imagery stays surface-level, content to sketch rather than dissect. But that looseness feels intentional—like West finally allowing herself room to breathe instead of over-analyzing every ache. Sonically, the album is near-flawless: danceable yet introspective, confident without cockiness, the kind of record West says is “perfect to box to.”

Heaven 2 isn’t an escape hatch; it’s the opposite. It’s the sound of someone realizing the map was inside all along. Wherever you go, there you are—and on this gorgeous, glowing record, that realization feels like arriving at heaven, version 2.0.