Before a single note is played, the air inside Intuit Dome already feels electric — thick with the kind of anticipation that only builds when a city is about to welcome one of its own back home.

And LANY, for all intents and purposes, is as Los Angeles as it gets.

Though the band was born in Nashville, it was this city — with its relentless sun, its broken hearts, its palm trees, and its promises — that gave LANY the language for everything they’ve ever wanted to say. And tonight, they’re here to lay it all out again.

A red curtain hangs center stage. The first chords of “Soft” fill the arena as the spotlight narrows to a single beam. Frontman Paul Klein approaches a bent, squiggly microphone stand, his silhouette framed by an orange halo behind him. And then — like a dress falling to the floor — the curtain cascades down as he sings, “I love it when you say my name.”

The two massive screens flanking the stage project a grainy, black-and-white image of Paul, like a photograph developing in real time. The show has officially begun, and the room shifts with it. We’re all a little closer to heaven now.

Soft, released last October, is at its core, an ode to love found after the wreckage. After years of chronicling heartbreak with almost surgical precision, Paul Klein wrote an album devoted to something lasting. Gone is the post-breakup anguish of Malibu Nights, the restless searching of gg bb xx. Largely inspired by his relationship with his now-fiancée Destiny, Soft is the sound of someone who finally let themselves be loved.

Before the song even resolves, Paul says it plainly:

“Oh, my home, Los Angeles. This is my home.”

And the city answers back.

From there, the energy builds quickly. During “Why” and “Make Me Forget”, the crowd can’t keep themselves still — and neither can Paul. He moves like he’s fully in it, hip-thrusting, groovy, unreserved. He grabs his first bouquet of roses from a fan and tosses them into the air, letting them fall back down around him. Flowers on the floor, a LANY tradition.

“That’s the best drummer in the whole fucking world right there,” Paul says, gesturing toward Jake Goss. The crowd erupts. Jake, steady as ever, just smiles and keeps going.

Then comes “you!” — Paul rips off his flannel and shirt in one motion, arms outstretched as blue light washes over the arena. “Come on,” he says, “this song is about you.” He drops to his knees mid-song, guitar nearly touching the stage, singing, “I’m nothing without you,” as thousands of voices meet him there. There are no strangers in this room.

What follows is a set list that reads like a love letter to every era of LANY — a band unafraid to honor where they’ve been while standing firmly in where they are now.

“If You See Her” from Malibu Nights arrives in a flood of red light. Paul waves his white shirt over his head, pounding his chest, stomping around the stage, swinging his elbows up to the sky, and singing with the kind of conviction that makes you feel like he wrote this song five minutes ago. More roses are thrown. The stage is beginning to look like a garden that’s been run through.

At LANY’s iconic clear piano, Paul eases into “I Don’t Wanna Love You Anymore” — a fan favorite that always lands like a heavy gut punch. The crowd carries the weight with him, the chorus looping like a release that never fully resolves, and doesn’t need to.

“This has officially exceeded my expectations. The energy tonight is fucking perfect. This is my home, man. This is my favorite place in the whole world. I will live and die here, for the rest of my life. I love this city.”

You believe every word. That’s the thing about Paul Klein — he has always been allergic to performance for performance’s sake. He’s not telling the crowd what they want to hear. He’s telling them what he knows to be true.

During “Know You Naked,” another piece of the constellation that is Soft, Paul picks up a video camera and turns it toward himself, then toward the crowd. Projected onto the massive screens, fans wave back at themselves — a room full of people seeing themselves. Oh, to be seen. A fan proudly holds up their sign: “Smile, you’re at a LANY show.” 

The set moves through “Stuck”, “Sound of Rain”, “Good Parts”, a “Super Far” / “Mean It” mash up and then, Paul and Jake break from the main stage and head to the B stage, where a keyboard and electric drum kit wait. Softer. More intimate. Paul calls fans up to the barricade, and for “13”, he brings one up to sing alongside him, twirling her around as the crowd takes over the na na na na na na na nas. 

“ILYSB” is the one that broke them wide open and the crowd at Intuit Dome has not forgotten. Paul gives an instruction before they close it out: “If you’re here tonight with someone you love, I want you to pick them up and put them on your shoulders.” And just like that, girlfriends are lifted everywhere, the song surging beneath them.

By “Pink Skies”, the stage floor is carpeted in rose petals — a moat of flowers circling Paul’s microphone, a monument built incrementally through the night by fans who came prepared to give something back. 

“Prettiest Thing I’ve Ever Seen” brings out a group of boys near the front who’ve clearly been workshopping their choreography. Paul spots them immediately. “Those are my dogs right there,” he says, grinning. It’s messy, joyful, unselfconscious — the kind of energy LANY never fails to pull out of people.

And then “Destiny.”

It lands like a deep exhale. The crowd sings it back even louder — not just as a song, but as something lived. For those who’ve followed LANY through every era, it feels especially full circle. We’ve all grown up and gone through some shit. And now here we are, singing together, a little further along than we were before, and hopeful for where life is taking us. Paul moves like he’s conducting the room, the symphonies of our lives.

As “XXL” starts to play, we all know the night is coming to a close. Our last chance to leave everything out on the floor. Paul throws on a red LANY cap and jumps into the crowd. He’s in it with us – hugging fans, singing with them, moving in time with 20,000 people.

LANY has never just been Paul and Jake. It’s always been all of us. Back on stage, Paul pauses.
“I love you so much, LA. Thank you for being so good to me.” A beat. Then, with a grin:
“Are you not entertained?!”

Jake joins him, and the two stand side by side, taking it all in for a moment before bowing together.

Los Angeles gave LANY everything. And on April 4th, at the Intuit Dome, they gave it all back.