A restless heart crashes against the walls of its own self-doubt in I Try, a song that doesn’t just explore longing—it drowns in it. From the very first notes, Adam Janos pulls the listener into a feverish internal monologue, where every attempt at connection teeters on the edge of collapse. The music sways between control and chaos, a sonic embodiment of the push and pull of desire, failure, and the desperate hope that maybe this time, things will be different.
The track’s structure mirrors its emotional volatility. The instrumentation builds, offering the illusion of confidence, only to unravel into moments of vulnerability. There’s a tension in the way Janos delivers his lines, as if he’s both resigned to failure and clinging to the last shred of optimism. The repeated “I try, I try, I try, I try” isn’t just a lyric—it’s a confession, a mantra, a plea. And as the song surges forward, it’s clear that this isn’t about a single failed romance; it’s about the exhausting cycle of searching, falling, losing, and trying all over again.
What makes I Try stand out is the way it weaponizes humor against heartbreak. There’s a darkly comical self-awareness in lines like “another baby girl that I fail,” as if the narrator is watching his own downfall in real time but powerless to stop it. That kind of brutal honesty makes the song cut deeper—because who hasn’t felt trapped in their own patterns, repeating the same mistakes with the same desperate hope for a different outcome?
Janos doesn’t just capture the feeling of romantic pursuit—he captures the absurdity, the pain, the addiction to wanting something just out of reach. I Try is messy, raw, and achingly human.
