For some bands, putting your name on a record can signal reinvention. For Seahaven, it feels more like recognition. A way of distilling everything they have built since 2009 into one body of work that speaks with clarity, emotional precision and the kind of lived-in confidence that only comes with time. It is not an album interested in overstatement. Instead, it leans into the things Seahaven have always done best: introspection, melodic depth, raw feeling and songs that carry the weight of real life without losing their sense of movement.
Written during a turbulent period, the record began with “Wedding Bells,” a song that opened what vocalist and guitarist Kyle Soto describes as the floodgates. From there, the album took shape as a space for processing loss, memory, vulnerability and the complicated act of understanding yourself in real time. The result is a record that honours the band’s past while sounding fully grounded in the present.
As Seahaven prepare to return to the UK for the first time in 11 years, they speak to House of Solo about emotional truth in songwriting, the natural evolution of the band, and why this self-titled release feels like both a homecoming and a statement of intent.
This self-titled album feels like a statement piece. Why did now feel like the right moment to put your own name on the record, and what does that title say about who Seahaven are in 2026?
It felt like the right moment as we’ve been gone for some time, and this record sonically seems to capture a lot of the different elements we’ve introduced over the years. I think it’s a good representation of the group for someone who’s never heard us before.
Kyle, you’ve said that “Wedding Bells” was the first song written for the album and that it unlocked everything else. What was happening in your life and creatively at that moment that made the song such a starting point?
For me, usually the writing process is birthed out of turbulent times, and I think this was no different. I was in a pretty low place and music has always been an effective outlet for me, so it makes sense that WB was the one to open the floodgates to the rest of the record. It almost acts like a faucet; I may keep it closed for a time, and when I open it, usually a handful of ideas come pouring out. I find it very therapeutic to sort through life’s difficulties through song.
A lot of these songs seem to come from a very instinctive, almost unfiltered place. What did that “flow state” look like in practice, and how do you know when a song is telling the truth?
I think a lot of the songs I write tend to be conversational, so for me it can act like a dialogue I’m yearning for with a particular person, so it always tends to be “truth telling.” For the songs that aren’t as conversational, I think in the writing process, you know it’s sincere when there’s a vulnerability in the lyrics that may make you a little nervous thinking about people hearing it at some point. I think that’s a good thing though. Hopefully those are the moments people can detect and connect with the most.
There’s a quiet confidence in the way this record is described, not overworked, not over-explained, just deeply felt. Did making this album require you to trust yourselves in a different way than before?
I think it just comes with time. You learn a lot about the songwriting process and how to lean into your strengths over time. I would imagine there’s probably an audible maturity woven into the fabric of the record. It’s just the natural progression of things, and with that probably comes some confidence.
You’ve said this album pulls elements from all of your previous releases into one body of work. When you listen back to it, where do you hear the younger version of Seahaven, and where do you hear the band you’ve become now?
It’s probably more moment to moment, not necessarily song to song. The writing process wasn’t aimed at making certain songs sound like certain records of ours from the past. I think to the listener, there may be some songs that lean more to one side than another, but I think the record as a whole feels like a well-blended mix of new and older elements. We’ve brought new energy in and improved upon energies from former releases in my opinion.
Self-producing a record can be both liberating and brutal because there’s nowhere to hide. What did producing this album yourselves allow you to capture that might have been lost in a more traditional studio process?
To be fair, I have essentially self-produced all our projects. We’ve never actually worked with a producer in the traditional sense so I can’t speak much to it. For me, I’ve always fleshed out every small detail in the pre-production phase. It’s the only way I’ve known how to do it.
You recorded the album together at Pale Moon Ranch with Alex Estrada, and then had Will Yip mix and master it. How did those two environments, the intimacy of your own process and the outside perspective at the final stage, shape the finished record?
I think it was a great process. As previously mentioned, the entire record was very much dialled in the pre-pro phase, and bringing to Pale Moon to retrack helped bring everything to life. We had known Alex prior, so there was already a shorthand there, which is invaluable. As far as mixing with Will Yip, we couldn’t be happier. We’ve attempted to work together in the past and it didn’t line up, so coming together on this one felt long overdue and he smashed it out of the park.
There’s a real tension in Seahaven between emotional heaviness and melodic lift. Songs like “Hellbound,” “February Flowers,” and “Infinite Blue” seem to hold grief and catharsis in the same breath. Why is that balance so important to your songwriting?
That just seems to be the natural instincts I have musically. I’ve always enjoyed very melodic music with darker lyrics, so it makes sense. I also don’t know if I’m capable of writing very optimistic music haha, for myself at least. I think you usually try to write the music you want to hear if that makes sense.
The quieter moments on the album, especially tracks like “Remember Me” and “Companion,” seem to sit with memory, loss, and the fragility of life in a very direct way. Was this record harder to write because of how personal it became?
Again, I think the aggressive vulnerability when writing is something you have to lean into. It’s part of the process. I write these songs very much in a vacuum which is my way of sorting through the emotions on my own. Then, at some point they get released and they don’t belong to me anymore.
How much of this album was about processing the last few years, and how much of it was about trying to understand yourselves in real time while you were writing it?
I think it’s a fair blend. Processing the past few years essentially rolls into the current state of things when you’re still coming to terms, so I think it’s all very relevant in real time.
“Midnight Hour” introduces this record with a sense of melancholy and release. What made that the right song to lead people back into the world of Seahaven?
I think it felt like a good first splash into the album. I’m very happy with the peaks and valleys throughout the record, but MH just seemed a good choice to “sound the alarm” and give a proper taste of what’s to come.
Seahaven have always occupied an interesting space, emotional, introspective, melodic, but never overly polished in a way that strips the humanity out. Do you consciously protect that rawness?
Yeah, I mean, I think it comes from the songwriting vantage point. As mentioned, the songs always come from a real place/situation; it’s never just a song for song’s sake. So inherently, I would imagine that’s where the “rawness” comes through in the music.
After forming in 2009 and evolving through different chapters, what has kept the four of you connected creatively? What is it about this lineup that still works?
We’ve all known each other for many years outside of music, which is a big help. Over time, we’ve all found our respective places in the group that helps move the machine along most efficiently. There is a trust among us that only comes with time.
When Kyle brings in those initial sketches or full song outlines, what does the band then do to turn them into something that feels distinctly Seahaven rather than solo material?
When I’m writing, I can usually tell where it’s headed project wise. There are some that could go either way and the rest of the guys will act as a sounding board as to which route will better serve the song. Sometimes it takes a few different approaches of an idea to see where it will be suited best.
There’s often a lot of pressure around legacy when a band has been around as long as you have. Did you feel any weight going into this record, or was it more about freedom than expectation?
That’s a good question. I think you have to dull the noise the best you can while still keeping a grasp on what you do best, which may also coincide with what the fanbase gravitates towards as well. The fact of the matter though, is that you never truly know, and you’ll never please everybody, so you have to simply go with your gut and just make the record you would enjoy listening to. If you believe in it, the listener will.
Your audience has grown with you, and a lot of fans have a very personal relationship with your music. Do you think that shared emotional history changes the way you approach a new release?
Ultimately, you have to speak your truth and be 100% authentic in the songwriting and the music will hopefully find the right listener and that relationship will continue to strengthen. Once you start trying to appease or pander, I think that’s when you lose the plot.
You’re returning to the UK for your first tour there in 11 years. What does it mean to come back now, with this particular album, and reconnect with fans in those rooms again?
We couldn’t be more thrilled and grateful there are still people willing to join us again. We’ve always had a great time over there and we weren’t sure if we’d make it back, so we’re very excited.
Live, these songs feel like they could hit in a very different way than they do on record. Which tracks from Seahaven are you most excited or maybe most nervous to play in front of people?
I think Godsend/Hellbound would be a fun live moment. Highwire as well could also serve well at a festival somewhere at sunset, haha. But yeah, once the record is finished, you start to fantasize about these types of live moments, so I think we’re all excited to get out there and play the new material.
A self-titled album can sometimes feel like a reset, or even a rebirth. Does this record feel like the beginning of a new era for Seahaven, or more like the clearest distillation of everything the band has always been?
A little bit of both. We see it as a statement of “We’re back, and in case you missed it, this is us.” Something to bring together old and new fans alike.
When listeners sit with this album from “Godsend” through to “Companion,” what do you hope stays with them after the final song fades?
I can only hope it makes some sort of emotional impact. There’s an overarching theme of loss on this record in varying capacities, which I feel is pretty universal, so hopefully it connects with someone who needs it.
