A folk record arriving in February just feels right. The bleakness outside matches the mood, and you find yourself more willing to sit still and actually listen. When I Think caught me at exactly the right moment, and I think that timing coloured how deeply it landed.
This is Ervin Munir’s third album and it’s the one where everything starts to feel intentional rather than exploratory. There’s a confidence here that’s hard to fake. The Norfolk based songwriter has always had a knack for writing lyrics that feel like they came from somewhere real, and this record doubles down on that without becoming navel gazing.
“Lifeline” opens things up gently and sets the tone perfectly. It’s the kind of opener that doesn’t try to impress you, it just invites you in. From there the album moves at its own pace, and the best thing I can say about the sequencing is that it never feels like filler. Each track earns its place. “Rainfall Memories” is a particular highlight early on, the kind of song where the piano does most of the emotional heavy lifting and Munir wisely stays out of its way until the moment is right.
“I Don’t Care” surprised me most. I wasn’t expecting the rocky edge it brings, and it works precisely because the album has lulled you into a quieter headspace by that point. It’s a well placed jolt that shows just how much range Munir is working with here. “One Step Beyond” does something similar later on, shifting the mood just enough to keep you fully engaged rather than letting the record simply wash over you.
“Perfect Moment” and “Should’ve Known Better” sit comfortably at the heart of the record, doing exactly what their titles suggest. They’re warm, assured songs that give you room to breathe before “Voices” lifts things into a different gear entirely.
The title track sits at the centre of the album and also at the centre of something far more personal. When I Think is dedicated to Aeron Z Jones, Ervin’s producer and close friend who passed away recently. Knowing that before you listen changes the weight of the whole record, and the title track in particular. You can hear the grief in it without it ever being spelled out. The animated video that accompanies it is a thoughtful touch and adds another layer to what is already one of the more emotionally loaded moments on the album.
Aeron’s influence across Ervin’s previous work is something fans will know well, and his presence is felt throughout in the care and texture of the arrangements. The dedication feels earned rather than performative, and it gives the whole record a deeper emotional resonance that stays with you long after the final track.
“Live And Learn” closes things out with exactly the right energy. It doesn’t try to resolve everything, which is the correct call. Life doesn’t do that and neither should the album that’s been wrestling with it for the previous 40 odd minutes.