If there’s one thing Von LaRae has proven over his past two albums, “The Art of Sex” and “A.D.O.N.I.S,” it’s that he understands the architecture of allure. He doesn’t just write songs; he builds experiences. And with his third studio album, “2 Is Company” (released June 2, 2025), LaRae throws open the doors to his most luxurious, emotionally complex world yet—a 43-minute, 15-track opus that feels like stepping into a private chateau where every hallway hums with passion, vulnerability, and the intoxicating rhythm of self-reinvention.
Over a transformative period, LaRae has sharpened his pen, expanded his sonic palette, and deepened his emotional storytelling. While rooted in pop and R&B, “2 Is Company” shapeshifts with the confidence of a master host, folding in amapiano pulses, afrobeats warmth, dancehall sway, lo-fi house textures, and flourishes of 90s nostalgia. The result is a record that feels cinematic yet intimate—like a whispered secret in a crowded room.
Begining with “Prologue,” the curtain rises with a raw, almost theatrical confessional: “Have mercy, have mercy on my soul.” LaRae’s smoky, aching delivery slips between pained introspection and sharp, almost reckless bursts of defiance, “You know I don’t know how to cope, so I guess I start wylin.” The production is minimal yet magnetic with deep bass pulses, crisp percussion, and soft synth atmospherics that lets his voice sit front and center, setting the tone for a tender and unflinching journey.
The title track, “2 Is Company” is a slow-burn seduction. Built around the hypnotic refrain “Can you be my company, company?”, it’s an intimate R&B groove wrapped in warm basslines and understated synths. His vocals here are like silk over skin—smooth, conversational, and dangerously close—lending lines like “Tie me to your soul now you got me, I’m someone else” the weight of a confession whispered in low light.
If 2 Is Company was a candlelit corner, “Gimme” is the champagne-soaked dance floor. Sleek, bass-driven production draped in shimmering synths and crisp percussion frames LaRae’s confident swagger. He turns “Count a milli and I know what to do” into a statement of power, while “Baby, give it to me like it’s never enough” lands like a dare. This is charisma crystallized in song; cinematic and unapologetically indulgent.
A neon-lit joyride through nostalgia, “’87 Firebird” feels like wind in the hair and city lights in the eyes. Though the vocals ride easy over the beat, there’s a deliberate pacing here, a sense of savoring the night before it slips away.
The fifth track, “Distractions” wears temptation like perfume. “How you gonna stress it if you ‘gon repress it” is a challenge and confession, as LaRae turns late-night encounters into a coping mechanism. The addictive hook “Make it hard, make it hard baby. Turn me on, on and on” rides atop deep bass and airy synth textures, the production breathing with him in a way that makes the intimacy feel tangible.
“Molly” glows with an otherworldly shimmer, weaving spiritual tension into desire. Over lush, bass-heavy beats and crisp percussion, LaRae’s charisma spills into every word—from the celestial “Saturn told me that tonight I’ll let you go” to the teasing “Wearing my body like a hobby, bet you know me so well.” Both club-ready and lyrically layered, This song is a masterclass in balancing provocation with poetry.
Playful and charged, “Superpowers” is built for movement. The refrain, “It’s that Superpower, Superpower Love” hooks you instantly, while the bright synth layers and pulsing bass keep your body in step. LaRae’s shifts from smooth croon to rhythmic punch give the track its irresistible push-pull.
Sensual and deliberate, “Ride” embodies the kind of intimacy that can’t be diluted into friendship. LaRae’s voice carries a knowing heat, especially in “When you say it like that, you already know what I’m thinking.” Minimal percussion and a deep, plush bassline frame his delivery in velvet shadows.
There’s a reclamation moment in “Energy.” The cinematic opening lines, “Cleared out your number. Cleaned out your locker. Face is on fine, Body on fire” sets the stage for a self-renewal anthem. The hook, “I’ll give my energy to someone else, and that someone is me” is pure empowerment, wrapped in tight, modern R&B-pop production.
Smooth as its name, “Butter” slides in with warm bass, crisp percussion, and a hook that practically melts in your mouth: “Oh, baby, you’re smooth like butter. Oh, so sweet, you taste like honey.” With playful and intimate lyrics, LaRae blurs the line between flirtation and declaration.
In “Thinkin’ Bout U,” infatuation meets urgency, with bouncing beats and shimmering synths underscoring the restless wait. LaRae’s rhythmic phrasing in “When you gonna da-da-da-dial. Waitin’ on your ca-ca-ca-call” is playful yet laced with longing, while “Play me like a symphony, but hit the wrong note” hints at love’s imperfections.
The mosaic, instrumental sequel to “’87 Firebird,” “Gelato 333” is pure club euphoria. Layers of rhythm and melody dance like city lights on wet pavement, capturing the high of freedom and the sweetness of letting go.
A fevered groove built on a magnetic hook, “Baby you giving me a fever of hundred degrees” and the lingering touch of “when you go I still feel your pulse.” His delivery here is smooth, shifting between intimacy and tease, while the bass-driven production makes every heartbeat feel amplified.
Bittersweet and cinematic, “Pictures” frames love lost in a soft-focus lens. “I still got our pictures here in my phone… now they’re just pictures I see in my phone” carries a sting, while Pick Later’s verse deepens the ache. Musically, mellow R&B grooves and airy synths keep the emotions suspended in amber.
Closing with a late-night honesty, “I Do” feels like a private call you’re not meant to overhear. “I could sit here and call you a thousand and one times… but it’s really just like, for what” leads into the raw refrain “I do, I do, I do, I want you bad.” The minimalist and atmospheric production gives every word space to breathe—and linger.
Across “2 Is Company,” the production is a study in restraint and intentionality. The beats are tight but unhurried, the synths shimmer without overwhelming, and the basslines are warm enough to wrap around you. The layering is meticulous; each texture chosen not to fill space, but to create it, giving LaRae’s vocals the breathing room to command attention. Whether flirting with amapiano rhythms, pulsing lo-fi house, or 90s R&B nostalgia, the soundscapes remain cohesive, anchored by his unmistakable vocal presence.
With “2 Is Company,” Von LaRae has built his richest and most nuanced body of work yet. It’s a record of private moments and public declarations, of whispered seductions and shouted affirmations. It’s not just an album; it’s a key to a private suite in LaRae’s world, and once you’re inside, you’ll want to stay.
Listen to the “2 Is Company” album by on Spotify
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