‘Wishbone’ is Conan Gray’s diary written with saltwater 

The last days of August are filled with the late sunburns of summer, lake water cooling by the evening and heavy air hinting at summer’s departure. Conan Gray’s fourth album, “Wishbone,” carries that same late-summer tension through its 12 tracks, as Gray swims between thin currents of heartbreak and hope, leaving listeners seasick with emotion.

Gray never planned to release the album due to the depth of personal details it exposed, the Texas native said in an interview with TODAY. This uncertainty makes the Aug. 15 album feel like glimpsing into a locked diary. 

“Wishbone” opens with heavy guitar chords over a sparse percussion mix in “Actor,” letting Gray’s raw, pain-filled vocals dominate as they crack with blame and confusion over his love interest.

“Let’s pretend nothing happened, I agree / But you’re a much better actor than me,” Gray sings. 

The urgent sprinting in “Actor” sets the album’s tone — breathless, panicked and unrelenting. 

“This Song” ventures into a love story between fictional characters Wilson and Brando. “This Song” is accompanied by one of the album’s three music videos, “Vodka Cranberry” and “Carmel.” These videos narrate the love story between fictional characters Wilson and Brando. 

“I wanted to tell a classic love story,” Gray said in an interview with Cosmopolitan. “The music videos are a manifestation of something that I wish I could have had in high school.”

With diary-like intimacy and nostalgic acoustic textures, Wilson’s emotions glisten. Gray’s soft and intimate voice invites the listener to a private confession from Wilson to Brando. 

The occasional swell of electric guitar over minimalistic instrumental backing illustrates Wilson’s tension.

Continuing the romantic storyline, “Vodka Cranberry” pairs piano with slow, lurching drum patterns mirroring the lyrics’ anxiety. 

“Speak up, I know you hate me / Looked at your picture and cried like a baby,” Gray sings.

Dripping with the desperation of someone leaving before you can be left, the track leans towards melodrama as the vocal intensity crescendos at its close. 

“Romeo” steps away from slow guitar, opening with heralding trumpet fanfare akin to a royal entrance. The song flips the romantic bard’s archetype of love into something venomous, as Shakespearean allusion in the lyricism narrates unreciprocated desire with sassy presentation.

“So I hope you know I’m never gonna want you back / You put me in a grave of stone, but now it only makes me laugh / Spendin’ my summer in love, then I went and got dumped,” Gray sings, his theatricality twists bitterness into pageantry.

“My World” spins in a disco-like rhythm, showcasing a brash, angsty persona. Sung almost sarcastically, the bridge lands with the smirk of someone both bitter and ready for karma to strike. The arrangement supports the lyrical intent as spoken lines overlay fast-paced percussion.

“You got your revenge by being stuck with your life,” Gray sings.

Returning to a slower melancholy tone, “Class Clown” cries with plucked guitar and minimal percussion. The narrative turns inward, focusing on alienation. Alliteration and bare feelings read like a poem scribbled in the margins. 

“Half my friends barely know who I am / And there’s none at fault but this own singing man,” Gray sings.

Sailing towards love, “Nauseous” ironically juxtaposes a slow, romantic instrumental with lyrics depicting an abusive relationship, leaving listeners unsure whether to sway with music or recoil at its implication. 

“Caramel” pays another visit to Wilson and Brando’s story. With electric guitar and a snappy drum beat, the track feels sticky — both sweet and suffocating. 

“Connell” introduces a wistful mood, almost too slow to sustain itself. Gray’s voice is partially lost under the heavy swell of the instrumentals, as though the sea is swallowing him. While jealousy and longing are palpable, the imbalance weakens the emotional clarity.

Escaping wistfulness and diving into a burst of disco, “Sunset Tower” conjures images of driving with the windows down, trying not to think about endings and the wellbeing of an estranged ex-lover. 

The eleventh track, “Eleven Eleven” cleverly mirrors its position in the album. Tying numerological significance into meditation on spiritual longing, the song directly connects to the thematic core of “Wishbone” as Wilson longs for Brando and offers his wishes in the form of celestial signs, yearning for a past in a spiritual sense. 

With heedful delivery, “Care” closes the album with stripped-back guitar and tender vocals. Gray’s cutting vocals crack at the edges, giving the impression of someone running away from silence. It’s an ending that doesn’t resolve so much as it lingers, like a sailor stepping ashore still staring at the horizon.  

Through heartbreak and anger, “Wishbone” insists even fragile wishes are still worth making.
“Wishbone” is available on all major streaming platforms.