I Think I Can

Where "Hybrid Rainbow" sighs, "I Think I Can" leans forward. The track opens with a chugging guitar riff that has a kind of stubborn, locomotive energy — the musical equivalent of deciding to keep moving despite having no particular reason to. The tempo is brisk without being frantic, and the drums lock in early with a steady, propulsive confidence that anchors everything else. Kawabe's delivery here is more declarative than yearning; his vocals push outward rather than curling inward, and the effect is of someone talking themselves into something, mid-song. The lyrical spirit is essentially a meditation on perseverance framed in the most plainspoken terms possible — not triumphant, not tortured, just honest about the effort required to continue existing with some degree of intention. This is garage-adjacent power pop at its most functional: the song does not try to move you toward transcendence so much as it tries to remind you that motion itself is possible. There is a kind of wry affection in the production, the guitars slightly fuzzed but not overwhelming, the whole mix suggesting a band that has played many small clubs and knows exactly how loud things need to be. It is the kind of song you might put on at the beginning of a long drive or a difficult project — not for inspiration in any lofty sense, but for the simple reminder that things can, in fact, proceed.