Album of the Month - March 2026

March 2026 gave us what many would have considered an obvious album of the month. José González released Against The Dying Of The Light, a record that is, on paper, as acoustic as it gets: voice and guitar.

However, that guitar is primarily classical, and that slightly distances it from the steel-string acoustic sound that defines my playlists and, ultimately, this blog. For that reason, I went in a different direction and chose It’s Not Going to Be Okay by Joshua Burnside, an artist I discovered only recently, but who immediately stood out.

It’s Not Going to Be Okay is a deeply personal and conceptually cohesive record, built around the loss of a close friend. The album unfolds across 10 tracks and runs for just under 40 minutes, maintaining a tight, intentional structure with no unnecessary moments.

Produced with a careful balance between intimacy and expansion, the record blends acoustic guitar, subtle string arrangements, drums and electric textures, but never loses its core: storytelling.

What stands out the most is the brutal honesty of the writing. There are almost no metaphors. Burnside doesn’t hide behind poetic abstraction, he says things as they are, often in a way that feels uncomfortable, but always real.

That directness makes the album feel less like a collection of songs and more like a document of grief, memory and confusion. It’s raw and sometimes even disorienting.

You and Me

The album opens with a fragile sense of hope. The repeated “we’re gonna get through this together” feels almost like a mantra, something you say because you need to believe it.
Knowing the context of the album, the line takes on a bittersweet meaning: it sounds like a promise, but also like something that can no longer be fulfilled. The calm imagery (“after the storm the sea is gentle”) contrasts with the emotional weight behind it.

With You

This is where the album’s emotional core becomes undeniable. Burnside moves from abstract reassurance to specific memories: school days, music, small shared moments.
The detail about the snare drum, and the fact that percussion enters the arrangement here, feels intentional and symbolic.
The final verse, describing the funeral, is devastating in its simplicity. No metaphors, no filters, just presence, absence, and the unbearable desire to still be with you.

It’s Not Going to be Okay

The least acoustic track on the album, and also the most political and confrontational. The distorted guitar and chaotic solo mirror the lyrical content perfectly: a world overwhelmed by injustice, capitalism, environmental collapse and digital control.
The repetition of “I am…” turns the song into a list of everything that is broken, not just externally, but internally. It’s very uncomfortable.

Monty Part of Town

After the intensity of the title track, this song brings a deceptive calm.
Burnside reflects on the strangeness of existence, moving between domestic imagery and subtle unease. The contrast between ordinary life and underlying tension (a bomb near a courthouse, homelessness in the “nicer part of town”) suggests that instability is never far away.
The repeated line “how strange it is this life” feels like quiet disbelief rather than wonder.

The Last Armchair

One of the most striking examples of Burnside’s direct writing.
The opening lines immediately place us in a very real, very uncomfortable space: the physical object tied to a tragic memory.
What makes the song powerful is the contrast between the almost upbeat musical feel and the heaviness of the lyrics. It captures that strange dissonance of adult life: responsibilities, routines, and grief coexisting at the same time.

Something Else

The first fingerstyle-driven track of the album, and one of its most introspective moments. Here, grief turns into search. Burnside looks for signs, meaning, something beyond death, anything that could suggest continuity.
The reference to The X-Files is not nostalgic for its own sake: it reinforces the desire to believe in something beyond what we can see.

Nighttime Person

My favourite non-single on the album. This song explores solitude and identity through nighttime habits and sensory details. There’s something comforting but also unsettling in the way Burnside describes these moments.
The shift caused by the artificial lighting change (from warm streetlights to cold LEDs) becomes symbolic: even the spaces where he feels safe are changing. It’s a subtle reflection on how grief alters perception.

Good Times Are Comin’

Perhaps the most emotionally unstable track on the album, as it moves between almost ironic optimism and underlying despair. The repetition of “good times” starts to feel hollow, especially when contrasted with lines that reveal emotional exhaustion.
It’s not real hope, it’s the idea of hope, something distant and hard to visualise.

Moon High

A fragmented and almost detached reflection on coping mechanisms.
The repeated phrases and seemingly indifferent lines (“so what”, “never mind” “don’t give a f”) suggest emotional numbness rather than acceptance.
There’s a sense of someone trying to function ( “keeping busy, eating right”) while internally disconnected.

Remake

The most intimate moment of the album. Built almost entirely on voice and guitar, the song feels like a quiet conversation with memory.
The idea that “it’s all just a remake” is again both comforting and unsettling, suggesting that life, relationships and moments might repeat, but never in the same way.
The sound of the sea in the final seconds adds a layer of nostalgia and finality that closes the album beautifully.

It’s Not Going to Be Okay is definitely not an easy listen and it’s not meant to be. Joshua Burnside delivers an album that refuses to romanticize grief or hide behind poetic distance. Instead, he offers clarity.

Through direct language, intimate storytelling and carefully restrained arrangements, the album becomes a space where loss, memory and reality coexist without resolution.

That’s exactly what acoustic music should do.