Album Review: SOULSTAR by BOY SODA

The album shines in its emotional honesty and sonic versatility, and BOY SODA’s talent for blending heartfelt songwriting with catchy R&B grooves is undeniable.

Courtesy of Warner Music Australia Pty Limited.

In an album that plays out like a sonic autobiography, BOY SODA gave us a 13-track excursion through love, grief, celebration, and self-discovery in real time. Across the record, the 27-year-old singer-producer doesn’t hold much back—he spills his guts about family trauma, failed relationships, late-night vices, and personal growth with a disarming candor. It’s the kind of record where you feel the diary pages turning. One minute, he’s confessing “everybody knows that a man keeps shit shut” while wrestling with his own bottled-up pain, the next, he’s flexing playful swagger or shedding tears in the vocal booth. The tone shifts often, but SOULSTAR stays grounded by BOY SODA’s clear intent: to tell, in his words, “the story of me and how I think and love at 27.” In that mission, he largely succeeds—even when the subject matter gets heavy, his songwriting moves in love, favoring honesty and empathy over cynicism or self-pity.

The opener, “My Body,” is a raw self-reflection, featuring moody keys and confessional lyrics that tackle male vulnerability and mental health head-on. He talks himself through the aftermath of a bad breakup—“Made an impression and left with a little obsession/Cue the depression/Went from the light of my life to a lesson”—and admits to needing “therapy, therapy, therapy” even as he insists “I swear… I’m feeling amazing” in the same breath. It’s a compelling start, if a bit on-the-nose at points, letting us know right away that SOULSTAR isn’t about fronting or hiding the cracks. The album segues into “Lil’ Obsession,” a funky, mid-tempo R&B jam that sugarcoats its heartbreak with a bouncy groove. Don’t let the smooth production fool you—BOY SODA is drawing boundaries and trying to let go of an unhealthy attachment. “If we go no-contact, I don’t take no pleasure… let this little obsession go,” he pleads, showing maturity even as the melody sweetly lingers on the romance. It’s an earworm of a track about cutting off a situationship, and it sets up one of SOULSTAR’s recurring themes of choosing self-respect over drama, even when it hurts.

The album really shines in its middle stretch, as BOY SODA dives into more unconventional territory. “Hit the Road!” flips the script to celebration—it’s a sultry, playful song about lust and distance, filled with cheeky lines about an “appetite” that “can’t be tamed” and a lover who only comes around every season. It’s arguably the most lighthearted moment on the album, offering a brief respite between the heavier confessions. From there, we hit “Never the Same,” a lovelorn R&B ballad that finds him lost in the woods of heartache, trying to understand when things changed. The title hook repeats like a mantra—“never the same, never the same”—driving home the permanence of a love lost. It’s a simple song, almost to a fault, but his velvety vocals sell the melancholy. The emotional stakes have climbed even higher when “A Father’s Heart” hits. Over a somber, soulful backdrop, BOY SODA confronts generational trauma and his complicated family history as a first-generation Pasifika son. He delivers some of the album’s most powerful lyrics here, praising his dad for “broke a cycle but you never break another’s bones” and proclaiming “blood is not deeper than trust.” You can feel decades of pain and pride in his voice as he addresses absent father figures and celebrates the man who raised him. It’s heavy material, but rendered with poetic grace—“Scars don’t have to be birthmarks, the road ends where the heart starts”—finding hope that the family’s future can be better than its past.

While “A Father’s Heart” is about healing old wounds, the very next song, “4K,” is BOY SODA exorcising a more recent ghost. Featuring Dean Brady on a ridiculously catchy hook, “4K” uses pixelated imagery to tackle a toxic ex with clear-eyed honesty. “Pixelated, 4K/Complicated, always/See you like it’s HD, love you too much to hate me,” the chorus croons—it’s a clever way of saying he sees this person in high definition now, flaws and all, yet he refuses to turn bitter. In the verses, he and guest rapper Siala trade barbs at this false angel who did him wrong. BOY SODA doesn’t mince words: “If halos are real, then yours a noose around me… cut me loose,” he snaps, calling out her dangerous innocence. The wordplay is sharp (he quips about “smoke and mirrors” and “different wig, same change” to expose her shapeshifting lies) and his anger is palpable, but notably he still frames it around love—“love you too much to hate me,” he repeats, suggesting he won’t let resentment destroy the part of him that still loves deeply. It’s an emotionally mature stance wrapped in some of the album’s hardest-hitting lines.

“Blink Twice” zooms out to almost apocalyptic commentary, yet keeps one foot in intimacy. Over an urgent beat, he paints a world on the brink—“Big summer… world burning, clock turning, we out of luck… baby, kiss me, apocalyptic”—mixing societal dread with carpe diem romance. The song’s got a jagged, hip-hop energy (he even jokes “every zombie, they think they’re a fucking critic” with a dry smirk), but its core message is surprisingly tender: don’t waste time on noise. “The difference between hearing and listening is infinite, and conviction ain’t the same as convincing”, he declares wisely. Amid the chaos he describes, he’s basically telling his lover (and us) to focus on what’s real. It’s a bold, brainy track that could’ve felt out of place, but it actually caps off this first arc perfectly—tying up the theme that love and truth are what carry you through the storm.

The next stretch opens on a gentler note, almost like sunrise after the turbulence before. “Good Morning” is exactly what it sounds like: a warm, sensual waking-up song that finds BOY SODA in bed with someone he cares about, savoring the little moments. The production here is breezy and light, with him cooing, “Baby, good morning… breakfast coming straight out the oven, caffeine high to push start the buttons.” It’s a genuinely sweet celebration of domestic intimacy (complete with a “cigarello kiss” and even a cheeky reference to a “spaceship coupe” for two). After so much heartbreak and anger earlier, this feels like sunlight on the skin—a reminder that joy and love still exist in his world. Of course, BOY SODA isn’t about to leave it all rosy. “PM” chronicles a far more complicated rendezvous: the late-night hookup with an ex that both know is a bad idea. The song’s woozy, bass-heavy vibe matches the morally gray lyrics. “Hit you in the PM ‘cause I know you provide relief… You only ever hear from me in the PM”, he admits, fully aware he’s using this person for comfort. He even warns, “Baby, don’t confide in me,” because feelings aren’t part of this equation. It’s messy, it’s selfish, and he owns it—making “PM” one of the more brutally honest depictions of post-breakup loneliness on the album.

The latter part of SOULSTAR continues to balance celebration and self-sabotage in love. “Slippery” is a steamy, free-flowing track that finds BOY SODA on the road, pining for an old flame and trying not to lose his grip. The lyrics here are more vibe than narrative—he tosses off playful lines like “Denim stretch more than the truth” and “thinkin’ ’bout you all week”—capturing that restless, lustful energy of being away from someone and itching to see them. It’s not the deepest song on the record, but its laid-back confidence and rain-soaked atmosphere add a nice texture. “Find a Way” is all about emotional distance. Over an ethereal, oceanic beat, he questions a lover’s mixed signals and his own: “You said you wanna see me, baby—you’d have better luck to go blind”, he sing-speaks wryly, simultaneously pushing them away and yearning for them. It’s a more introspective, subtle moment that might not grab attention immediately, but it reinforces SOULSTAR’s overarching narrative, as he’s figuring out what he truly needs and feels, even if the answer isn’t clear yet.

Then comes “Selfish,” the album’s gut-punch and emotional climax. This song is a tribute to a loved one on the brink of death—likely a grandparent or elder—and it’s absolutely heart-wrenching. He pleads for just a little more time: “I’m beggin’ you and beggin’ Him to let you swim… just a little longer, if you don’t mind holding on for a minute.” His voice cracks with desperation as he confesses, “I’m not ready for you not to be here… Call it selfish, I know it, I’m just not ready for you to go yet”. The writing might be simple, but it cuts deep; he captures the universal feeling of anticipatory grief in plain language that hurts because it’s so direct. Anyone who’s sat by a hospital bed or waited for that phone call will feel these lines in their bones. “Selfish” also ties a neat thread through the album’s generational theme—he references childhood memories, being loved as a kid by this person, and promises “If I could hold your pain, you’d be light as a feather, put it on me… you my family.” It’s devastating and beautiful, a song that truly moves in love even as it grapples with impending loss. After such a heavy moment, “Platonic & Sacred” feels like a soft epilogue. He reflects on a friendship that turned into something more and then got awkward—a different kind of heartbreak. “Maybe the fault is mine for falling for a friend… We haven’t talked about it”, he muses, detailing how a single kiss “turned me sober” and made him see this person in a new light.

For an album created over two to three years, SOULSTAR holds together impressively well. There’s a clear emotional arc from turbulence to tentative optimism. Even when the genre influences hop around—from smooth R&B and neo-soul to hints of trap and funk—the project never feels disjointed. BOY SODA’s perspective and voice remain the “invisible string” pulling it all together. You can tell he followed his gut in curating this tracklist; nothing feels like a forced radio single or a label checkbox. If anything, he might have even given us a little too much of himself—the album is densely packed with feelings and a few tracks (like “Slippery” or “Find a Way”) that, while good, don’t hit as hard as the highlights. A bit of pruning might have made the listen even tighter. But it’s hard to fault an artist for being generous with his art when the sincerity is this evident. BOY SODA stays true to the life he’s curating “from within”—the slang he uses, the cultural references, the voice notes from loved ones, it all feels authentic to him. That realness carries through not just in the lyrics but in how he sings them: sometimes tender and lilting, sometimes breaking into a rougher edge when he’s angry or hurt, and sometimes slyly laughing at himself. It’s the definition of wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Even at his most vulnerable or frustrated, BOY SODA avoids coming off as bitter or melodramatic. He can drop a corny line here or there—at one point he actually quips “cue the depression,” and on paper that could’ve been eye-roll worthy—but by and large his songwriting walks the line between poetic and plainspoken in a way that feels believable. He’s not trying to be Shakespeare; he’s trying to be real. And in a genre (and generation) where ironic detachment is common, the earnestness of SOULSTAR is refreshing. He really does “want to be truthful and move in love” with these songs, and you can hear that intention loud and clear. Whether he’s lashing out at an ex, mending his family bonds, or crying through a eulogy, there’s a sense of warmth and hope underpinning it all. That’s a big part of what makes this album cohesive despite its broad scope—the guiding principle is compassion. BOY SODA is hard on himself and occasionally on others, but he never stops seeking understanding and growth.

All told, SOULSTAR is an ambitious and emotionally rich debut that delivers far more hits than misses. BOY SODA set out to document the turbulence of his twenties, and the result is as captivating as it is cathartic. Some moments might make you laugh in recognition, moments that might make you tear up, and plenty of head-nodding grooves to vibe with in between. Sometimes his pen leans a bit too heavily on straightforward statements—but as it stands, SOULSTAR is a powerful first chapter in his story—one that leaves a lasting impression and holds a lot of promise for whatever comes next.

Great (★★★★☆)

Favorite Track(s): “A Father’s Heart,” “4K,” “Selfish”