The magic of Lounna—where does it come from? I have to admit, when I first heard the title of Lounna’s new album, Garden For Winter, I expected something that would radiate a cold, snowy light—more of a slow dive into a soft winter dream than something bright.

But in the end, it turned out to be much warmer and gentler than the title suggests: 14 tracks placed within a kind of cozy sonic oasis, where lightheartedness coexists with determination, and Lounna herself seems to dance between tenderness and inner strength, sometimes filling the pauses with a warm northern breeze.

photo by @lounnamusic

Looking at her debut album, When I’m Home, it’s clear that she has long gravitated toward a lyrical folk sound. But now, there’s a distinct depth. In this new release, there are moments when she seems to forget that anyone is listening—everything feels so genuine, as if we’re behind the scenes, unintentionally overhearing her thoughts. At the same time, the melodies and arrangements show that she has taken another step forward: she doesn’t shy away from themes that many artists avoid and makes no secret of how deeply she connects to the idea of an invisible bond between people.

Some songs transport you to a mountain cabin, where a blizzard rages outside while the fireplace crackles inside. Others spark reflections on the importance of fighting for your dream and pushing forward, even when storm clouds gather on the horizon. In every track, you can hear that determination—the force that drives Lounna to keep going, overcoming challenges that might have broken someone else.

One of the most captivating aspects of Garden For Winter is its balance between openly romantic moments and a quiet, concealed bravery. The album thrives on contrasts: a smooth folk rhythm and Lounna’s seemingly fragile voice, yet within each track, there’s an unmistakable resolve. Some might see this as a contradiction, but to me, it’s a seamless fusion of different emotional currents. There are songs that feel perfect for listening to on a cloudy day by the sea, lost in thought about where life’s path leads. Others seem made for sitting in a rattling train car, watching landscapes blur past the window, wrapped in a sense of absolute calm.

I won’t lie—I have my favorites. A couple of tracks struck such a chord that, for a moment, they made me forget about to-do lists, grocery runs, and the endless plans for the future. The entire album is steeped in the idea of change: some might call it a metaphorical winter, others might feel a sense of complete renewal, but what fascinates me is how every track pulls toward the freedom to be yourself without sacrificing what matters. Lounna has a way of speaking about sadness that makes you see your own struggles differently, as if suddenly finding a kind of musical harmony in them.

photo by @lounnamusic

The opening tracks, Sassafras (featuring Gabrielle Gutierrez) and Appalachian Mountains, immediately create a sense of warmth. Lounna’s delicate vocals and thoughtful, immersive lyrics intertwine with soft arrangements, where rich melodies wrap around you like a cozy blanket. In Sassafras, layers of instrumentation build gradually, revealing themselves piece by piece before flowing seamlessly into Appalachian Mountains—a gentle track with light ukulele picking, violin, and an intimate vocal delivery.

Alpenglow fills the space with a sense of love: acoustic guitar, ukulele, and electric guitar blend into a rich, almost weightless sound where fragility meets a subtle sharpness. The electric guitar adds an unexpected touch, giving the track a distinct character.

I love how ephemeral Buried Bones feels. Lounna’s voice seems to dissolve into the air, with echoes enhancing the weightlessness, nudging the song slightly away from traditional acoustic folk toward dream pop. But with Peak Season, we’re back to folk-country, centered on love, support, and understanding. It’s one of the album’s most romantic tracks—and easily one of the most memorable.

The trio of Morning Coffee, In The Sunlight, and Under The Same Stars (featuring Reliable Child) has a cinematic quality. Here, it’s especially clear how carefully she crafts the atmosphere of her songs—everything is in its place, everything fits seamlessly.

Orchard (All We Worked For) stands out with its melancholic tone, yet there’s a quiet strength within it. And the closing track, Bigger Than Us, feels like a natural conclusion—there’s a sense of forward motion, lightness, but without haste.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Garden For Winter is its ability to bring peace in some moments and spark motivation in others, whether for small steps or big leaps. It’s fitting that the album was released in winter, yet these songs carry the promise of many bright days ahead. Lounna fills her music with meaning but never imposes it—everyone will find their own story here. Garden For Winter is a story where Lounna opens her heart just enough to let us listen to what usually lingers in the most intimate corners of our own. I like to think she sees this album as the starting point for something even greater.

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