CONAN GRAY’S ‘WISHBONE’ WILL BREAK YOU IN TWO

Today is a huge day for anybody who feels loud emotions deeply, and for anyone who likes music that does just the same. A deeply personal and powerful album, Conan Gray’s Wishbone is a product of the artist healing and finding himself, and we’re all grateful to be brought along on the journey. On Instagram, Gray described how, before writing the album, he’d been “standing at the edge of [himself] for years, not knowing that all [he] had to do was jump into [his] own life.” A beautiful project with twelve vastly different but perfectly flowing tracks, Wishbone is an album everyone will find something they love within. While Conan Gray may have made this album for himself, long-time fans and new ones alike will resonate.

Photographer: Dillon Matthew

We’re introduced to the album through “Actor,” a sonically peaceful and almost hopeful-sounding track depicting Gray struggling to sweep a relationship under the rug like nothing happened, while his ex does so with ease. The song’s poetic lyrics reintroduce us to his raw, poetic honesty and relatability. While his music videos from this era follow two characters, this track (and album) is about Conan—not the characters of Wilson and Brando—and it’s showing us the part of his life we’re about to uncover through this album.

Every fan remembers where they were when “This Song,” the album’s lead single, dropped. Bright-sounding and joyful, the track sounds like a coming-of-age indie movie, and the music video reflects it. It follows Wilson (Conan Gray) and Brando (Corey Fogelmanis) falling in love. The video and track are pure queer joy. The characters' initials (W+B) also reflect the album’s title, tying them together even further in the universe Conan Gray has created. The violins in the production are heard clearly and bring further optimism to the track. They serve as a common motif throughout the album, and we often hear them more prominently in the more joyful songs; “This Song” clearly sets up a reminder of happiness and hope.

The joy turns bitter quite quickly, as likely anticipated by anybody who’s heard Gray’s previous albums, his 2022 release Superache in particular. Gray is very open about his fear of abandonment, and “Vodka Cranberry” illustrates that perfectly. Whether it’s just the paranoia of being left alone, or clinging to a relationship that’s already turned sour, the song’s powerful vocals bring these to light. We can gauge the pent-up rage through the track, alongside a dejected hopelessness in the “hidden” lyrics. During the bridge, as Gray sings “I will”, we hear a whisper of “don’t make me do this to you, don’t make me do this, but I will.” Those violins we heard in “This Song” are still audible in this track, but much less clearly, potentially much like the joy in the relationship. The fears of being left are confirmed in the music video, where in the end Brando leaves Wilson.

The tone switches up with “Romeo,” bringing an almost country vibe to the album. It’s accepting the breakup we heard in “Vodka Cranberry,” reaching a more spiteful mood. Heartbreak is switched for an almost confident energy, Gray realizing that he’s better off without his ex. The spoken breaks in the song are sassy and almost comedic, and the track gives the vibe of letting yourself live again. The drums sound heavier, the vocals drop down an octave, and it sounds freer than the previous, more controlled, emotional tracks.

A steady beat continues into “My World,” the synths and drums bringing a glowing feeling in, showing the hope following the hatred. The track’s spoken bridge is sassy and fun, and brings with it a 2000s influence. After the heartache in previous songs, we reach a carefree energy and newfound confidence, sounding almost ethereal in the high-pitched chorus. Gray finds a new identity outside of the split relationship and chooses freedom.

Class Clown” strips production right back; the acoustic guitar in the intro, with the isolated vocals, bring a feeling of emptiness. The production draws attention to the song’s haunting and painful lyrics. The buildup and harmonies at the end of the track highlight the dissonant emotions attributed to the situation, pushing a real power onto Gray’s words, especially as they begin to echo.

The heavy feeling continues into “Nauseous.” Sonically, listeners will feel like they’re falling through the air with Gray here, the buildup to the chorus drawing real attention to the track’s title. It’s being terrified to fall in love again, and trying to stop it from happening. The electronic power-down sound at the start of the chorus totally contrasts with the vocal building behind him, and we can see the conflicting emotions reflecting in the relationship.

More upbeat than the previous tracks, “Caramel” reintroduces a shred of hope to the story. The third music video in the “Wilbran” universe accompanies the album’s third single, and it’s the perfect ending to the indie cinematic romance we’ve been following. It’s not wanting to let the happy memories of something ending be tainted by bitterness, and missing the connection that doesn’t exist anymore. The sound is bright and joyful, with honest lyrics contemplating both sets of feelings that come as a result of a relationship that’s ended.

Photographer: Dillon Matthew

Connell” sounds delicate, on the brink of a snap. The lyrics reflect the sound here. The acoustic intro strips back production to draw attention to Gray’s winding vocals, which sound like they’re stuck in an over-thinking spiral. He blames himself for every mishap in the relationship, with truly heartbreaking lyrics as he sings, “kissing your ghost was my own damn f***ing fault, but deep in my bones I know pain is what I earned.” The track’s ending is echoing and electric, the tone much darker than the rest of the album. It sounds distant and desperate, like grappling for something that’s being dragged away faster than you can catch it.

Electronic synth sounds introduce a version of Conan who just doesn’t want to acknowledge the existence of his ex in “Sunset Tower”. It’s the inconsistent feelings towards an ex, wishing the best for them, but also wanting the worst out of spite. The vocals layer in a way that sounds cinematic and final, but also cling to the main line of “don’t tell me” in a way where he maybe can’t shake thoughts of his ex, despite not wanting to know anything about them anymore.

The eleventh track on the album is titled “Eleven Eleven,” absolutely no coincidence, given the themes of superstition that lead the track. A potential mirror to the second single on the album, “Vodka Cranberry,” especially when looking at the lyrics from that track in which Gray sings, “Eleven elevens, they all hear your name.” In “Eleven Eleven” Gray searches for a sign that allows him to deny that the relationship has ended. The layered vocals at the end of the song are truly beautiful, cycling through all the signs that Conan looked for, wanting to still mean something.

Wishbone’s closing track, “Care,” is a bittersweet acceptance that you’ll always still care even when something’s ended. Sonically, the song is joyful, like something you’d hear at the end of a movie. Lyrically, there’s a contrast; there’s an acceptance that there will always be a part of him that cares for this person, despite all the other cycled-through feelings about them. This bright-sounding track is the perfect conclusion to the journey we’ve been on throughout the album, with the fragments of hope we hear in so many songs combined with the utter heartbreak of others.


Conan Gray has shared the last few years of his life with us in the releasing of Wishbone, and it’s honest, raw, and powerful. Whether you’re a long-time fan or somehow just now learning Conan Gray’s name, this album is one that you absolutely need to listen to at least once. You won’t be able to forget it quickly, or the world he’s created through it.

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