Some albums don’t just unfold. They reveal. Slowly, delicately, like a hand opening to show something alive inside. Faith by Purelink is one of those records.

I’ve been a longtime listener of theirs, ever since Head on a Swivel left me frozen in place. That track was my entry point, and ever since then, Purelink has stayed on my radar. Their sound moves with true elegance and craft, with expression that seems more felt than composed. On Faith, that essence is stretched wide, soft, radiant, and full of emotional texture.

The opener, Looked Me Right in the Eye, is a statement of intent. A drifting, phasing dronescape that seems to float just above the surface of the world. A gentle click pulses beneath, rising and falling like distant machinery heard through fog. The mix is detailed and patient, shaped with careful hands. It moves in place, like mist caught between trees.

Rookie follows, with the same level of care, but now a voice appears. Loraine James speaks in fragments, her words folding into the ambient wash like thoughts you almost remember. The voice doesn’t interrupt the texture, it inhabits it. You don’t need to grasp every word to feel the shift. For a few minutes, if you let it, the music opens something in you. A reminder, maybe, of something tender.

With Kite Scene, Purelink leans into that sense of weightlessness. The title itself seems to shape the listening. There’s air in this one, a feeling of being lifted by forces unseen. Wind across wet skin leaves a cool feeling, a voice you can almost hear, blurred by altitude and distance. The production captures the edge between control and surrender, and you float there for a spell.

First Iota returns us to voice. This time, Angelina Nonaj. There’s something beautifully unfinished about this piece. The guitar pulses in the distance. Her words are raw and real, full of brokenness and quiet truth. The phrase “I am sharing with you some real life content” is a terse reminder of what it means to be a human these days. At first, I didn’t understand what she was trying to say. But maybe that’s the point. There’s no clean answer. Just presence. Just feeling.

With Faith, Purelink proves again their deep understanding of the shape of sound. How filters scuplt and move. How rhythm can live in stillness and work in the background. How beauty can emerge from restraint. At first, I found myself missing the angular edges of their earlier work, and feeling like the vocals & spoken words were out of place. But with each listen, this album opened more. And in doing so, it helped me open too.

This is an album about trust. About letting the music take its time, and trusting that it will take you somewhere real.