There are some projects that don’t just play through your speakers—they settle into your bones, your thoughts, your memories. Curtains Closed, the new 6-track EP from Birmingham-based singer-songwriter James Percival, released on April 25, 2025, is one of those projects. A soul-baring body of work that fuses indie pop sensitivity with alternative rock edge and unexpected threads of therapeutic jazz, Curtains Closed is as emotionally harrowing as it is artistically elevated. It’s the kind of EP that doesn’t just reflect the artist—it transforms him.
James Percival may be a relatively new name in wider music circles, but in Curtains Closed, he writes with the weight and perspective of someone who’s felt life’s more brutal truths and chosen to translate them into something beautiful. The six tracks here are born from deeply personal pain—James spent the last year and a half navigating the anguish of watching his sister’s health decline due to the long-term effects of Long-Covid. What he’s crafted is a moving and unfiltered diary of grief, confusion, and reluctant acceptance, wrapped in soundscapes that feel both intimate and expansive.
The EP opens with the title track Curtains Closed, a slow-burning ballad that immediately pulls you into James’ world. His voice is full of quiet ache, delivering lyrics that sound like they were scribbled at midnight in the margins of a hospital waiting room. There’s a soft piano foundation that cradles his vocals before giving way to swelling strings and a subtle guitar that add weight without overwhelming the rawness. It’s a farewell song, but also a reckoning—a moment where the curtain falls not only on a relationship or a life but on a part of oneself.
Insane follows with a sharper edge, bringing in more alternative rock elements. There’s frustration in the vocal delivery, the kind of restrained scream that doesn’t erupt but lingers like a storm behind the eyes. The instrumentation here dances between grungy riffs and jazzy interludes, somehow managing to feel chaotic and controlled all at once. James is clearly drawing from a wide musical palette, and his ability to move fluidly between genres while keeping the emotional thread intact is nothing short of masterful.
Too Good to Be True serves as the EP’s deceptively lighter moment. There’s a catchy melancholy in the melody, echoing the likes of Lewis Capaldi but with a looser, more exploratory feel. It’s the sort of track you’d find yourself humming hours later without quite realizing how deeply it had hit you. The lyrics tackle false hope and denial—two stages of grief that James isn’t afraid to confront head-on.
Then comes Disembodied, the EP’s only fully instrumental track, and perhaps its most daring. Leaning heavily into the influence of Tigran Hamasyan, this jazz-infused interlude swirls with mood and color, wordlessly expressing a kind of numbness and detachment that can’t be said aloud. It’s meditative yet disoriented, like watching the world move while standing completely still. It’s a brilliant structural choice for the midpoint of the project, offering the listener space to reflect, breathe, and process.
On What am I supposed to feel?, James returns to the mic with what might be the EP’s most emotionally direct moment. His voice trembles over sparse piano chords, capturing the helplessness and emotional ambiguity that often come with watching a loved one suffer. This isn’t just a song; it’s a question screamed into the void, the kind that doesn’t want an answer—just a witness.
Closing out the project is So Many Times, a song that brings the EP full circle with a sense of closure, or at least resolution. It reflects on memory and repetition, on trying again and again to make sense of something that refuses to make sense. There’s warmth here, even a flicker of peace, like the gentle exhale after a long-held breath. James isn’t offering answers, but he’s offering honesty—and that’s more than enough.
What makes Curtains Closed truly remarkable isn’t just its emotional depth, but the way it invites you to live inside it. James Percival doesn’t write songs so much as he sculpts feelings into form. His influences—Capaldi’s vulnerability, Fontaines D.C.’s edge, Hamasyan’s compositional curiosity—are all present, but they’re blended in a way that feels distinctly his. Every track feels necessary, none of them filler, and the production—rich but never overdone—serves the songs rather than upstaging them.
In an age of algorithm-driven singles and throwaway hits, Curtains Closed is a reminder of what an EP can really be: a statement, a journey, a healing ritual. James Percival has made something rare—music that hurts, and helps, at the same time. So close the curtain, dim the lights, and listen closely. This is the sound of one artist turning loss into legacy.
