I Am Not Lambert opens a new chapter for Lambert, pushing his sound beyond the instrumental world that first drew attention to his work. Known for blending contemporary classical, jazz, and electronic elements, the Berlin-based pianist, composer, and producer now leans into songwriting, bringing vocals to the forefront for the first time in a meaningful way.

That shift feels natural. Lambert has always written with structure and melody in mind, and here he follows that instinct all the way through. I Am Not Lambert moves like a collection of songs rather than sketches, with voices carrying the emotional weight across a set that still holds onto his sense of space and restraint.

The album begins with “Spirit,” where Lambert’s own voice emerges, at times filtered through vocoder, drifting through a soft, fluttering arrangement. From there, the record opens up to a small circle of collaborators who add depth without taking focus away from the core vision. Kat Frankie brings a hushed, intimate tone to “So Unkind,” while Dekker layers harmonies across “The Sum,” building it into something that leans toward a soulful, almost devotional release. Rob Goodwin delivers one of the album’s most striking moments on “Hurts Like You,” his worn-in vocal carrying a quiet weight that lingers.

Behind the voices, Lambert’s longtime collaborators help shape the record’s atmosphere. Daniel Schaub handles guitars, bass, and drums with a light touch, while Marie-Claire Schlameus’ cello and Ralph Heidel’s woodwinds add subtle color throughout. Heidel stands out on “The Garage,” bringing a smooth, late-night feel, while Schlameus plays a central role in “Parthenope,” where Lambert’s piano moves between a delicate top line and a steady, clock-like pulse inspired by cinema.

Even with the added voices, I Am Not Lambert doesn’t lose sight of what made Lambert’s earlier work compelling. The sense of space remains, the arrangements stay uncluttered, and the focus on mood and movement is still intact. What’s changed is the way those ideas are delivered. Instead of letting the piano speak alone, Lambert opens the door to other voices, using them as extensions of the same emotional language he’s been developing since his 2014 debut.

The result is an album that expands his reach without abandoning his identity. Lambert doesn’t step away from what he does best. He reframes it, turning inward compositions into songs that feel more direct, more human, and more connected to the world he’s been circling all along.