The Kid LAROI has scrapped an entire album, spent three months recording its replacement, and delivered Before I Forget with the solemnity of someone who believes every word matters.
At 22, the Australian artist channels his recent split from Tate McRae into 15 tracks of polished R&B heartache.
The question isn’t whether he can sing about loss. The question is whether saying the same thing 15 different ways constitutes an album or an extended therapy session.
The Architecture of Heartbreak
Before I Forget opens with “Me + You,” a stripped-back R&B meditation that recalls early Drake.
The Kid LAROI’s vocals float across vintage production, demonstrating a maturity that wasn’t present on Fck Love*3+:Over You or even 2023’s The First Time. His falsetto no longer sounds like imitation Bieber. It’s pure r&b vibes.
“I would always choose you / So why the f*ck did you let them confuse you?” he sings, establishing the album’s central thesis: their relationship ended because she listened to the wrong people.
This narrative thread runs through nearly every song, occasionally interesting but ultimately suffocating.
“July” follows, marking the month their relationship ended with orchestral swells and aching vulnerability.
The production here deserves attention. Strings cascade like tears, whilst the Kid LAROI’s voice cracks in all the right places.
When he reaches “So I wrote this song for you just to remind you,” the line lands because he hasn’t oversung it. The restraint transforms what could have been melodrama into genuine pathos.
Where the Album Soars
“Private” continues the same trajectory, though it starts with a laidback vibe. Here, the Kid LAROI addresses the public nature of their relationship with actual nuance: “Next time, I’m keepin’ it private (Private) / Could have worked it out (Could have worked it).”
The line acknowledges his own role in the breakdown whilst criticising the external pressure that accelerated it.
For two minutes and 44 seconds, he sounds like an artist grappling with complexity rather than a jilted lover demanding sympathy. This feels built for radio.
“Come Down” arrives as track four and immediately justifies the album’s existence.
The beat knocks with confidence the ballads lack, whilst the Kid LAROI toggles between singing and melodic rap with the ease of someone who’s finally found his pocket.
“I’ve been getting high and a little too drunk / Baby, I’ve been in this party too long / I just want to be with you,” he confesses over production that recalls The Weeknd’s House of Balloons without copying it wholesale.
The switch-up two-thirds through the track shouldn’t work. The tempo change feels abrupt on paper.
But the Kid LAROI sells it through sheer vocal conviction, his voice pushing forward as the beat pulls back. It’s the album’s best moment because it prioritises movement over wallowing.
“Rather Be” is vintage LAROI, featuring Lithe adds texture through collaboration. Lithe’s verse arrives like smoke through the track’s Club R&B production, his delivery so laid-back it borders on horizontal.
The Kid LAROI responds with his most confident vocal on the album, singing “I’d rather be with you instead” like he means it but won’t beg.
The contrast between Lithe’s detachment and the Kid LAROI’s earnestness creates the album’s most interesting dynamic. It’s also the longest song on the album, over 4 minutes.
The Bieber Comparison Problem
Justin Bieber’s shadow looms large across Before I Forget. The vocal runs on “A Perfect World” could have been lifted from Journals.
The production on “Rather Be” recalls Purpose-era Bieber so strongly you half expect him to appear on the second verse.
This isn’t necessarily criticism. Bieber’s R&B period produced remarkable music, and the Kid LAROI clearly studied it closely.
But influence becomes pastiche when the Kid LAROI fails to add his own perspective.
“The Moment” featuring Clara La San channels Bieber’s collaborations with Jhené Aiko, right down to the whispery ad-libs and atmospheric production. It’s well-executed. It’s also inessential.
The album works best when the Kid LAROI leans into his Australian identity rather than obscuring it.
His accent occasionally surfaces on “Private” and “Come Down,” adding character to otherwise polished production.
These moments feel authentic in ways the perfectly executed Bieber homages cannot. The flow and switch up on “Come Down” is solid.
Where the Album Falters
The middle section of Before I Forget starts to feel airless. “5:21AM” featuring Andrew Aged arrives as a sparse acoustic interlude that disrupts the album’s flow without earning its place.
At just over one minute, the stripped-back guitar and hushed vocals capture genuine anguish – the Kid LAROI sounds genuinely gutted here, his voice cracking with the kind of pain that can’t be manufactured.
“It hurts so bad but you look so good,” he admits, and the contradiction cuts through the album’s polish.
Yet despite its emotional authenticity, the track functions as neither proper song nor effective transition.
Its brevity and stark production create a jarring shift that halts the album’s momentum rather than redirecting it. The raw vulnerability it offers deserves more space to breathe.
“Never Came Back” and “Thank God” cover identical thematic ground: she moved on, he’s processing it, everyone hurts.
The songs are competently constructed, but little changes between them beyond the track titles. By the time “Her Interlude” arrives at track 14, the album has said everything it needed to say twice and is now saying it a third time.
“Maybe I’m Wrong” attempts self-reflection: “I got so mad I wrote three different songs / But I scrapped them all cause it’s not what I want.”
The meta-commentary acknowledges the repetition without offering a way out of it. Knowing you’re circling the drain doesn’t make the circling more interesting.
The album’s sequencing compounds the problem. Placing three slow, minor-key ballads in sequence (“The Moment,” “Never Came Back,” “Thank God”) creates a momentum void that even the stronger tracks can’t overcome.
A tighter 11-track album focusing on the highlights would have served the Kid LAROI better than 15 tracks that repeat the same emotional beats.
The One Exception
“I’m So In Love With You” stands completely apart from the breakup narrative. It’s the only song from the scrapped album that survived, and you can hear why.
The production glows with optimism the other tracks lack. The Kid LAROI’s vocals soar without strain. The lyrics celebrate rather than mourn.
Its inclusion feels both generous and brutal. Generous because it offers listeners a reprieve from the heartbreak.
Brutal because it reminds us what was lost. Placed at track 12, it arrives like sunshine through storm clouds, momentarily illuminating the album before the gloom returns.
The song’s position in the tracklist also raises questions. If the Kid LAROI kept this song despite scrapping everything else, perhaps the original album wasn’t as off-track as he suggested.
Perhaps the breakup simply demanded documentation, and Before I Forget represents that compulsion rather than artistic necessity.
The Vocal Growth
The Kid LAROI’s vocal improvement cannot be overstated. On Fck Love*, he often sounded like a talented teenager imitating his influences.
On Before I Forget, he sounds like an artist who’s found his voice. The runs on “July” flow naturally.
The falsetto on “Private” carries genuine emotion. Even the spoken-word sections on “Back When You Were Mine” work because his delivery sounds conversational rather than affected.
He’s learned when to push and when to pull back. “A Perfect World” succeeds largely because he doesn’t oversell the chorus.
He sings “Can we just go back to a perfect world” with exhaustion rather than desperation, trusting the production to provide the emotional weight.
This vocal maturity makes the album’s thematic repetition more frustrating. The Kid LAROI has developed the technical skill to say interesting things. Before I Forget just doesn’t give him enough interesting things to say.
You might also like:
- Tate McRae “Tit For Tat” Review & Meaning: Cool Clapback, Tour Timing, and Who It Might Be About
- Justin Bieber’s SWAG II Lyrics & Album Review: Daylight Pop, Vows, and a Quiet Flex
- Tate McRae’s 2 Hands: Exploring Its Lyrics, Meaning, and Unapologetic Vibes
- Best R&B Songs 2025: 10 Tracks Reviving Real R&B
- Kali Uchis ‘Sincerely’ & ‘Sincerely: P.S.’ Lyrics & Album Review
- Tate McRae It’s ok, I’m ok Lyrics Explained: Sarcastic Self-Love, Y2K Nostalgia, and a Pop Diva Moment
The Production Team Deserves Credit
The album sounds immaculate. The production team has created a sonic world that balances warmth and space, allowing the Kid LAROI’s voice to sit front and centre without overwhelming the instrumentals. The strings on “July” never become syrupy.
The bass on “Come Down” hits hard without muddying the mix. The acoustic guitar on “5:21AM” rings clear despite the song’s stripped-back nature.
This attention to detail prevents Before I Forget from becoming background music. Even the weaker songs sound intentional.
The production choices serve the emotional content rather than obscuring it. In an era of over-compressed, over-processed pop, the album’s clarity feels almost radical.
The Tate McRae Connection
The elephant in the room requires acknowledgement. Tate McRae’s “Tit For Tat“ responded to the Kid LAROI’s “A Cold Play“ with surgical precision.
“Fix your f*cking self, kiss my ass for that,” she sang, directly addressing his “fix you” line.
The public nature of their musical exchange adds context to Before I Forget that the album itself never directly addresses.
McRae’s response reframes the Kid LAROI’s narrative. If she’s telling him to fix himself, perhaps the relationship issues ran deeper than external pressure.
Before I Forget positions him as the devoted partner undermined by outside forces. Her songs suggest a more complicated reality.
The album never engages with this complexity. The Kid LAROI maintains his perspective throughout, never seriously interrogating whether his version of events tells the complete story.
This creates a curiously one-sided document that reveals as much through omission as inclusion.
Final Assessment
Before I Forget succeeds as a showcase for the Kid LAROI’s vocal and production abilities.
It falters as a complete artistic statement. The best songs (“Come Down,” “Private,” “Rather Be”) rank among his strongest work.
The weaker tracks don’t actively harm the album so much as pad it unnecessarily.
The comparison to Bieber feels inevitable but slightly unfair. The Kid LAROI isn’t trying to be Bieber.
He’s trying to be the artist Bieber’s music suggested he could become. Sometimes he succeeds.
More often, he gets caught between homage and innovation, landing in competent but unremarkable territory.
At 15 tracks, Before I Forget overstays its welcome. At 11 tracks, it might have been remarkable. The Kid LAROI has the talent. The songs just needed a more ruthless editor.
We publish this kind of deep-dive music criticism every week. Subscribe to NeonMusic.co.uk to stay ahead of the noise.
The album’s title proves unintentionally revealing. Before I Forget suggests urgency, a need to document these feelings before they fade.
But the album’s length and repetition undermine that urgency. By the time “Back When You Were Mine” closes proceedings, you’re not worried the Kid LAROI will forget. You’re worried he won’t.