Arlo Parks - My Soft Machine (LP)

Arlo Parks didn’t rush her second act. My Soft Machine arrived on 26 May 2023, a careful follow up to the Mercury Prize winning Collapsed in Sunbeams, and you can hear that patience in the grain of it. Where the debut felt like sunlight through a bedroom curtain, this one moves like dusk on a warm weeknight, a little heavier with memory but still tender. Parks has always been a keen observer of the tiny movements that make up a friendship or a crush. Here she leans into that gift while nudging her sound toward something glossier and more kinetic.

You can hear the shift early. Weightless glides on a pulse that suggests late bus rides and quiet resolve. It’s still intimate, but the edges are sharper. Impurities might be the clearest window into where Parks is now. In interviews she said it’s about the friends who make you feel safe when your head is messy, and the song wraps that sentiment in pillowy harmonies and soft-focus guitars. It’s the kind of track you replay after a long day because it doesn’t ask anything from you. It just sits beside you.

Then there’s Blades, a slice of neon pop that feels like Parks testing how far she can stretch without snapping the thread of her writing. The chorus hits with a clean, almost clubby snap, and yet she’s still writing about the human stuff, the awkward dance of trying to mend something frayed. It’ll likely be a sleeper favourite for anyone who came to her for story but stayed for groove.

Pegasus is the marquee moment, with Phoebe Bridgers matching Parks’ whispery poise. Their voices blend so naturally that the duet sounds like a private note passed across a crowded party. It’s a highlight not because it chases spectacle, but because it treats collaboration as trust. There’s no tug-of-war for attention, just two singers comfortable in restraint. On the other end of the spectrum sits Devotion, which starts with tender devotionals and ends up roaring into a squall of guitars. It’s the most brash she’s sounded on record, and it works. Live, it’s the song you feel in your ribs.

Across the record Parks threads flashes of joy into heavier themes. She’s frank about anxiety and she doesn’t tidy up the edges around grief or confusion, but she also knows when to let light in. The title feels right for that reason. These songs chart the workings of a person trying to be kind to herself while carrying a lot, and the arrangements mirror that push and pull. You get synths that hum like streetlights, bass lines that stroll rather than strut, and drum programming that leaves space for breath. It’s modern pop in proportions that favour people over polish.

If you’re crate digging, the My Soft Machine vinyl is worth the shelf space. The low-end warmth on tracks like Impurities really blooms on wax, and the slight hiss between sides suits the record’s after-hours tone. I’ve already spotted a few copies tucked in the new arrivals at my local Melbourne record store, and it’s the sort of album that slips nicely into a weekend stack alongside The Japanese House or Clairo. If you’re building a run of Arlo Parks albums on vinyl, this sits beside Collapsed in Sunbeams as a companion piece rather than a sequel. Different room, same house.

Parks has said she wanted movement on this album, and you can feel her leaning into that, especially in the middle stretch where the tempo lifts and the synths get glassier. But the core remains her voice, low and generous, and the way she places a phrase so it rings a second longer than you expect. It’s a record that rewards those small listens. A verse on the tram. A chorus while you’re cooking. A late night run through side B when the house is quiet.

For anyone shopping around, you’ll find plenty of Arlo Parks vinyl options floating about, and it’s easy enough to buy Arlo Parks records online if you’re not near a shop. If you collect modern singer-songwriter work that gently nudges into pop, this is a keeper. My Soft Machine doesn’t chase headlines. It settles in. It turns the focus back on tiny kindnesses, on the relief of being known, on the thrill of making something a little bolder than last time. That’s a story worth having on your shelf, especially for those of us in vinyl records Australia circles who love music that grows with every spin.