Falling for someone new isn’t all hearts and flowers. When the night ends, you often find yourself lying awake and over-analyzing every little detail of the last few hours with him, like a smile that lingered or a pause that stretched too long. That restless churn is what Julia Faulks nails on ‘Overthinking’, a disco-infused track that presses into that tension on those nights when you’re too wired to sleep.
Julia Faulks writes from both sides of herself. She’s a UK singer/songwriter, but also an editor and journalist, someone used to dissecting words until they reveal what’s underneath. That instinct shows in her music. Her last EP Colours leaned into soul-pop textures with clarity, but ‘Overthinking’ drapes those same instincts in a nostalgic dance vibe—warm synths and a bassline that makes bodies sway. Produced by Le GénéraL and finished by George McFarlane, it carries the polish of experience but still hums with intimacy, like the song lets you eavesdrop on the mess playing out in someone’s head.
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The idea didn’t come out of some late-night breakdown—it showed up in the middle of a café, over a panini and a hot chocolate. Julia had been reading about the “joys” of overthinking and the Buddhist idea of the monkey mind, that restless chatter that climbs over itself until you can’t breathe. She flips it into a hook with “Got wild monkeys in my head”, a line that makes the static sound almost playful, even as it digs into the ache of wanting someone so bad you can’t shut your brain off. That’s the balance of ‘Overthinking’: it’s self-aware enough to laugh at the madness, but sensual enough to keep you caught in it.
From the opening verse, she sets the scene with “I’m always overthinking when it comes to you”, the kind of line that sounds simple until you’ve lived it. She tries to fight it off with “Try turning off the lights and switching off my mind”, but there’s no relief—sleep won’t come, the loop won’t stop. When she admits, “You make me colour blind, finding it hard to escape”, the lyric shows how obsession rewires you. The world blurs, and all you see is the person who won’t leave your head.
The chorus locks it in. “Oh with you, what am I gonna do / this web I’m spinning is so engrained with you.” It’s the sound of being wrapped up in someone else until you can’t tell where you end and they begin. Then comes the sting: “It’s true, love is being with you every second of the day / feels like déjà vu.” That rush is addictive, but it’s also exhausting, the déjà vu of highs that keep collapsing into lows.
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Then she pulls you deeper into the late-night loop. “I rehearse our conversations in my head, late night feelings left unsaid.” That line carries the sting of lying awake and scripting what you’ll never say out loud. The tension sharpens with “Nobody makes me feel the way you do”—a truth so simple it burns. By the time she concedes, “You got me checking my phone every second of the day”, the obsession has already taken over, the rush of anticipation paired with the hollow ache when nothing comes through. And when the lights flicker out in “Like disco lights that flicker, then fade away, do you feel it too?”, the track finally lets the vulnerability spill.
That vulnerability doesn’t last long. The hook circles again, but this time Julia lets a darker truth slip with “But it’s not clear cut, babe, this game we play.” It’s the admission that love can feel like a strategy, a mix of thrill and second-guessing. The track never resolves that tension, and that’s what makes it stick. You’re left swaying between want and hesitation, caught in the groove even as the questions linger.
Disco doesn’t usually carry this kind of weight in its lyrics. The genre built its legacy on escape—dancing away the night, hooking up with whatever warm body you’re dancing with, forgetting whatever was waiting outside the club doors. Julia doesn’t throw that out; the track still shimmers, still moves. But ‘Overthinking’ refuses to let the glitter be empty. She sneaks in the insomnia and the ache of wanting too much and dresses it in a groove that keeps you moving anyway. It’s disco for the after-hours, when the lights are low, the body is tired, and the heart still won’t quit.
