This song is VERY VERY SAD.

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[5.88]

Scott Mildenhall: Evidently Freya is not one to be pinned down, but if she were to be just one of Yorkshire’s three ridings, which would she be? Of course, it’s a trick question — she is York, at least based on this song, with its lofty pretensions and concomitant sense of history, all somewhat at odds with wider perceptions of the county that bears its name. The sad difference is that Ridings does not have an amazing railway museum, but instead just some stately staleness about standing on a platform. Stick a choir on it and give it to the X Factor winner, just to make their victory seem all the more pyrrhic.
[4]

Alfred Soto: Lord forgive me, but “Lost Without You” sounds like ideal accompaniment to ASPCA television ads should Sarah McLachlan’s contract expire, so all-consuming its its despair. It hits all its marks. 
[6]

Kat Stevens: Given “Lost Without You” already sounds like a John Lewis advert, does that mean that 2019’s precious tot will be cack-handedly sellotaping up a present for their long-distance truck driver mother to a nosebleed techno remix of this instead? That’s something to look forward to as we push our Brexit sprouts round the Xmas dinner plate. Though, looking at John Lewis’ dire financial predictions and the fact that Clara will be firmly stuck in a 15-mile tailback of lorries at Calais, it seems unlikely.
[4]

Ian Mathers: It says something for how unadorned the despair here is that on first impression I thought the song had made the mistake of adding too much in the back half – but further listening and comparing to a live version made clear that this pretty much just is a voice and piano song. Ridings has one of those voices where the risk is she sounds like she’s sad because of a bad head cold as much as anything else, so the focus here on how bad the situation feels – and that the situation is one where everyone’s probably done the right thing, and it still feels that bad – is necessary to keep “Lost Without You” in the realm of devastating.
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Alex Clifton: Freya Ridings’ voice is heartbreakingly intimate, the way it curls and breaks over certain words. I feel like I’m overhearing someone’s prayer in a quiet room. The best bit is the way she makes it sound easy with a featherlight touch; if there’s strain, it’s one of emotion, not of technical stretching. It’s been a while since I’ve heard a good piano ballad like this (the only other song that comes to mind was “Lost Boy” which, uh, was not great) and lands like a punch.
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Crystal Leww: Like the relationship it describes, “Lost Without You” is largely subdued, quiet, and defeated. True to life, for a moment, the music picks up and Ridings voice is raised as if she’s decided that she wants to fight but as if she’s reconsidered her stance, she goes back to accepting that it’s a one-sided affair. “Lost Without You” is like “Goodbye My Lover” if it were actually, you know, kind of good. 
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Anthony Easton: I do enjoy a vocal that catches near tears, and I like a melodramatic piano even more. The plod of this is almost a chore, but heartbreak so often is. Extra point for how she overcommits to cheap cliches. 
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Joshua Minsoo Kim: “Lost Without You” accomplishes one specific thing: it stops you completely in your tracks, making it impossible to think of anything else once you press play. It stands above her other singles precisely because it features musical decisions that most effectively align with what Freya Ridings is trying to achieve. The absence of drums makes this more intimate than “Ultraviolet,” and the lack of chintzy single-note piano melodies allows for a fuller, richer experience than “Blackout.” And unlike the “Maps” cover, this has enough stretched-out syllables to keep listeners contained within the song’s cloud of reverb. Ridings really hits a sweet spot here, and her voice is more readily appreciated. Still, one wishes that the piano was even more minimal. It grounds the song a bit too much, and I’m often wishing that I could simply be cradled in the warmth of the vocals alone. Bereft of emotion this is not, but “Lost Without You” sells itself short by preventing full immersion into its one true wellspring of hurt.
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