Okay so I’m just gonna say it. I smoke weed to deal with life and I’m done pretending that’s some secret I need to keep. Like you’re telling me I can post about wine night and mimosa brunches and nobody blinks but the second I mention lighting up after a shit day suddenly I’m the problem? Fuck that. Last Tuesday I had three meetings that should’ve been emails, someone’s unsolicited opinion about my life choices in my DMs, and my brain wouldn’t stop doing that thing where it replays every awkward thing I’ve ever said since 2014. You know what fixed it? Sitting on my couch, putting on something groovy, lighting up, and finally—FINALLY—letting my shoulders drop. And then Lily Lane’s ‘Higher’ came on and I was like… oh. Oh, she gets it. Validation set to bass and the sexiest fucking vocal I’ve heard all year.
Lane’s out here saying what we’re all doing but half of us won’t admit. Some days I need to get up, just to calm down. YES. That contradiction where you’re so wound up that sitting still makes it worse, so you have to move to find any kind of peace. I’ve had nights I was so anxious I thought I might actually vibrate out of my skin and if I don’t let go I know I might freak out. She’s being honest. There’s this edge we all live on sometimes where one more thing, one more demand, one more opinion might actually break us in half.
The production on this is so fucking lush. Retro soul that sounds expensive, bass rolling underneath like it’s got all goddamn day. Lane’s got this warm voice that sounds like secrets after drinks. Makes you lean closer. She used to model for Wilhelmina Curve, now she’s doing soul-pop. She knows glamour, she knows honesty, she does both. Here’s the thing—it sounds gorgeous, yeah, but Lane’s not being subtle. She’s singing about weed. That’s it. That’s the song.
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We’re too opinionated to be subordinated, can any person take it all the time? Fucking NO, we can’t. Having an opinion on everything is exhausting. Showing up constantly is exhausting. Performing like my value is tied to productivity? Fuck that. Too much stimulation, not enough recognition, and we’re just supposed to keep going. And for what? So we can collapse at the end of the day feeling like we ran a marathon in heels while everyone else gets to clock out at five?
The chorus is where Lane really commits. I gotta get high, high then reach higher, I gotta get high, high then reach higher, higher. She’s not hiding behind clever wordplay. She’s literally saying: I smoke to feel better, and that’s how I rise above this chaos. There’s something so fucking confident about that. No shame. No apology. Just facts. And honestly? It sounds sexy. The way she delivers it—playful, ascending, urgent—mirrors exactly how it feels when you need to decompress and you know what’s gonna work.
Some nights I need to light up, light up just to wind down. There it is. The thing half my friends do but won’t post about because somehow a joint is still stigmatized while wine o’clock gets celebrated on throw pillows at HomeGoods. “I literally sing about needing to light up to calm down,” Lane says. “Let’s get rid of that stigma against people who smoke a joint at the end of the day instead of having a glass of wine.” THANK YOU. I’ve been saying this. Why is one acceptable self-care and the other makes you lazy? Make it make sense.
And if I don’t clear my head, my mind won’t stop spinning round. God, that line. You know that thing where your brain won’t stop? Exhausted as hell, lying there, and it’s just going. Replaying conversations. Making up worst-case scenarios about tomorrow. Every embarrassing moment you’ve ever had on repeat. Lane knows that feeling. I’m overstimulated and underestimated, can any person take this all the time? No. We can’t. We’re not built for this level of constant demand. And the people who act like needing help to decompress makes you weak are either lying or they haven’t hit their breaking point yet.
The bridge slows everything down and gets so grounded it almost feels intimate. We need to feel the breeze, walk slow, making shadows, picking flowers. It’s literally telling you to touch grass but it sounds like foreplay. The way Lane draws out each image—you can feel the sunshine, the slower pace, the relief of just existing without performing for anyone. Reach inside, find your power. That’s it right there. Running on fumes? Your power’s not accessible. So overwhelmed you can’t think? Step back. Light up. Breathe. Remember who you are when the world shuts up for a second.
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Just remember nothing matters. She says it so quietly, so certain, that it doesn’t sound nihilistic. It sounds true. Because it is. That drama keeping you up tonight? The opinions you’re carrying around? The battles feeling like life-or-death? Six months out you won’t remember why you cared. And then that final word: True. Just… true.
What gets me? This doesn’t feel preachy. It feels like your hot friend with her shit together saying it’s fine if you don’t have yours together. She shows up with weed and advice. Makes you feel sexy when you’re a mess. Lane’s whole thing is body positivity, LGBTQ+ advocacy, not apologizing for existing. Pretty Little Liars, Netflix, HBO Max—they use her songs because they sound like actual life, just better produced.
‘Higher’ closes out her upcoming EP Domesticated, which—perfect title, honestly. ‘Cry Baby’ gave permission to feel. ‘Don’t Stop’ was escape via connection. ‘Higher’ closes it out—sometimes you just need yourself, your couch, whatever makes you feel better, and the realization that their stress isn’t yours to carry.
I’m fucking done pretending I don’t need to light up to wind down sometimes. I’m done treating it like some shameful secret while everyone else’s glass of wine gets a free pass and a cute graphic on Instagram. Lane’s not tired of the stigma—she’s just honest about ignoring it. And she sounds so good being honest, so confident and sexy and unapologetic, that you remember: this is how you’re supposed to live. Let them stay loud and stressed and judgmental about how you find your calm. You’re good up here.
