Photography: Alessio Boni

Today’s cultural climate gives weight to artists who tackle polarizing topics in their music, from race to politics, gender to sexuality, but what’s lost in this constant fixation on what divides us is what unites us. Rising LA trio LANY creates songs with universal appeal—love songs, specifically, they hope will strike a chord in all listeners, written from personal experience and tinged with the familiarity of ’80s-imbued electronic.

Band members Paul Klein, Les Priest and Jake Goss first formed in 2014, independently producing music on a Dell computer and uploading a tracks online that immediately sparked an overwhelming A&R response. Their lush sound and relatable lyricism were in high demand, but ultimately found a home with Polydor Records, who helped roll out their six-track Make Out EP last December with of a full-length LP in the works.

The project’s lead single, “Where The Hell Are My Friends,” offers a proper introduction to LANY’s world, marked by an existential narrative and delicate production that could soundtrack a summer road trip along the West Coast. “40 million in California, but no one cares if I stay,” sings Klein above sunny guitar licks and blissful synths—a winning juxtaposition that’s garnered comparisons to Twin Shadow and Prince.

We caught up with the three-piece standout on tour to talk about crashing in a one-bedroom home, writing accessible songs and rising above criticism.

How did LANY first form?

Paul Klein: I was failing miserably as a solo artist—there’s no other way to put it. I think we sold more of the two songs we put out as LANY than all the songs I’d written combined as a solo artist. I remember I played a show at House of Blues on Sunset in LA and had a moment where I was like, ‘I love writing songs, but this sucks and I never want to do it again. If I ever do it again, I want to do it in a band context.’ I knew Jake and Les were doing something really fun and so I said, ‘Is there any way I can fly to Nashville and see what we come up with?’ During those first four days, we wrote and recorded our first songs. After six days, we got an email from Polydor Records. In May, I flew back to Nashville and we wrote, ‘ILYSB,’ ‘BRB’ and ‘Made in Hollywood.’ That’s when it got serious. These guys wound up moving to LA in October and selling Jake’s house in Nashville. These dudes made some big sacrifices for LANY.

Once in LA, you all lived in the same house. What was that experience like in comparison to Nashville?

PK: We had one bedroom and a TV room. Sometimes Les would sleep on the floor with no mattress and some blankets—just crashing. We’re not crazy guys in the sense that we’d do anything to annoy each other. I really don’t know the band dynamics outside of LANY, but we’re really normal guys.

Les Priest: It’s good to have a schedule. Early on we were always separated, so when Paul would come to Nashville, we’d have specific days to work on music and it was a beautiful thing.

PK: We made most of I Loved You. when we were living in the same apartment. I don’t know what is better. I do miss the days when I could go to Les and be like, ‘Hey let’s write a song today because we have to write a song today,’ versus, ‘Hey we live in the same house, now.’ I don’t know which is better, but that’s been our creative process. It’s always the three of us in a room, sitting around the computer.

Do you work with any outside help?

PK: We make everything, so we don’t work with producers—not that we’re against that, we’ve tried. We’ve sent our songs to massive, highly credible Grammy-winning mix engineers and wound up going with Les’ mix. Les is the engineer behind what we do, so I think sometimes when you go see major pop producers like Max Martin, you might come out with something that has their fingerprint, but we don’t have anybody’s fingerprint because it’s our own.

LP: You lose identity working with someone else.

California is a reoccurring motif in your lyrics. What’s your relationship to LA?

PK: I can’t speak for all of us, but California is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My tattoo is a 9 for my first apartment in Hollywood, Apartment 9. I lived there for a year before Les and Jake moved in. My whole life changed in that apartment. I have a very love/hate relationship with LA, more love than hate, but I think inevitably in a massive city it’s really easy to feel alone. There are a ton of people and so many potential friends, but when it’s the weekend and your phone never rings, you’re like, ‘God, do I have anybody?’ I feel like that a lot and it’s not to say I don’t have amazing friends—I really do, but schedules are weird and sometimes you get sensitive. LA is one of the biggest cities in the world and yet I feel so lost and alone.

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There is something quite sensitive about all your tracks thus far. Will this attitude have a strong presence on the new album, as well?

PK: We write a lot of the love songs because I feel like that’s what I’m good at—I take care of the lyrics for us. But yet, I’ll stay up really late on magazines like Dazed and I’ll see what they praise and criticize. They praise a lot of politically centered artists and reading that makes me feel inferior as a creative because I write love songs—they’re not as polarizing as political topics, so I go back and forth. Our new album will have a lot of love songs, but I’m trying to stretch myself. Politically centered lyrics are cool, but at the end of the day is that something someone will belt at the top of their lungs? We want everyone to connect.

Universality is important with pop music, wouldn’t you say?

Jake Goss: One of the biggest compliments we’ve ever received was a radio DJ that said, ‘My 6-year-old loves it and my 60-year-old parents do, too.’ We love that accessibility.

PK: At the end of the day, we write universal pop songs—things I know and things I’m going through. Like, Jake just got married and I wrote a little lyric in my phone: ‘Friends fall in love and forget about you, now you’re twice as alone and went from one to two.’ I’m so glad Jake got married, but it’s like losing a roommate—losing a best friend. He fell in love, but Les and I don’t have that.

The topics you tackle are pretty dramatic. Is this conscious?

PK: I try to set everything we do in a very dramatic environment. Think about that blue hour when the sun goes down, but it’s not dark outside and everything feels really heightened. I even think back to high school when I was doing homework, but couldn’t stop thinking about this girl—I wanted her so bad, but couldn’t get her. Or when I wasn’t good enough to make the high school basketball team, so some kids threw my new shoes in the trash can. These things are dramatic, but the things you remember. Sometimes you carry them as a chip on your shoulder and that’s where I try to write all our songs from. I want everything about LANY to be a little past reality, so the colors on our Instagram are a little richer and the melodies are just a little more infectious. I want to push everyone that listens to us to reach for something just a little bit more.

Have you experienced any resistance in your career?

PK: I dealt with criticism and being told I wasn’t good enough my whole life. It goes back to the things that meant the most to you growing up. I love basketball and playing sports, but I was 5’11” during my freshman year of high school. I could shoot better than anyone, but it didn’t matter. I was too small—I didn’t go through puberty until I was 18. These are little things you carry for the rest of your life. People said, ‘You’re ugly, you have the highest voice, you suck at piano,’ and then when I moved to Nashville after I graduated from college, nobody wanted to work with me. It took me 500 emails to even get a co-write. My entire life, I’ve dealt with people saying, ‘You’re not good enough, you’re not qualified, just quit.’ Finally, here we are. Thank God I didn’t quit—I didn’t give up. We’re going to be opening for Ellie Goulding at the O2 Arena and I can’t tell you how much that means to us.