SINGLE REVIEW: I – Try

‘Try’ doesn’t begin with a bang, but with a slow, haunted breath. A cracked piano line hangs in the dark, fragile and spectral, like the opening scene of a psychological thriller. It sets a tone of quiet despair, but don’t get too comfortable — that piano is just the warning shot.

When the full band hits, it hits like a landslide. Thick, trudging guitars soaked in reverb drag across the mix like they’re pulling the weight of the world behind them, while the drums plod forward with deliberate, heavy steps. It’s not fast, it’s not flashy — it’s forceful. A grunge-drenched dirge wrapped in post-rock’s spacious melancholy. The sound is cavernous. Every note feels steeped in frustration, in desperation, in the ache of still trying when everything tells you not to bother.

And then there’s the voice. Al’s vocals arrive with theatrical defiance — downtrodden but not defeated — channeling pain with raw, open honesty. He’s not hiding behind metaphor or detachment; this is someone laying it bare. There’s real vulnerability here, the kind that screams alone in the car just to feel something. The chorus of ‘let’s try’ doesn’t come in like a hook — it comes in like a plea, exhausted but resolute, the sound of someone refusing to give up. Gang vocals thread through the track like bruises turned battle cries, raw and worn, amplifying the weight of every word. It aches. It uplifts. It hits.

When the guitar solo comes in, it doesn’t shatter the mood — it amplifies it. There’s a searing, electric edge to it, like a spark in the dark, giving the track just enough fire to rise from its knees. It’s a moment of pure release, a reminder that hope doesn’t always sound pretty. Sometimes it sounds like this — broken, blistered, and still breathing.

‘Try’ is a heavy song. Not just in its weighty, glacial riffs, but in its emotional load. There’s darkness here, and it doesn’t try to disguise it — but there’s also light. Flickering, fragile, and determined to survive. It doesn’t just want unity — it begs for it. And in a world hell-bent on pulling itself apart, that kind of plea feels revolutionary.

Outstanding stuff from I. This is the kind of song that lingers in the chest long after it ends.