The release of Conan Gray’s album “Wishbone” is topical, whether you’re chronically online and invested in the love story of music-video characters Wilson and Brando from woeful TikTok edits or are simply just a tried and true fan. With each of the 12 tracks, Gray takes listeners through his very clearly nonlinear process of mourning a humiliationship — a nonexclusive, noncommittal, yet very passionate period of secretive dating that ended in abashed heartbreak.

The American singer has been forthright with his vision for his fourth studio album to be an encapsulation of his life as it relates to his reflections on childhood, experiences in young adulthood and regrets from being abroad in London. However, the targeted language of the lyrics more closely conveyed a mirror affirmation or diary entry addressing a past partner.

“Wishbone” follows Gray’s classic indie-pop style with symbolic lyrics related to sadness and interpersonal growth. The majority of the tracks are initially slow paced but harbor built in crescendos that drive the tempo up into explosive bridges where Gray becomes more raw and vulnerable with listeners. 

The album as a whole ping pongs between suggesting Gray has healed to acknowledging he hasn’t truly moved on. Whether or not the order of the songs is effective is debatable. One could make the case that some songs could have been left out entirely. 

For example, track nine, “Connell,” doesn’t have much going on but is rather pleasant rhythmically. If it weren’t for the near-minute-long outro repeating the same word, “Connell,” again and again, it wouldn’t be denoted as skippable. 

While Gray’s voice is undeniably euphonious, the repetition added nothing to the self-induced victim-blaming theme of the song. While Gray likely intended for elevation, the outro seemed to only serve as an excuse for a quirky track title and was otherwise annoying. Similarly, the final track of the album, “Care,” could and should have been left out. 

Alternatively, “Sunset Tower” had a lovely dynamic contrast hidden in the second chorus and is another testament to the commendable artistry and range of Gray. Although another non-showstopping inclusion, this song pushes the narrative forward that Gray is intent on leaving his rut of despondence.

A standout of the album, the first track, “Actor,” frames the album so listeners gain context. “Actor” explains the initial heartbreak and dilemma Gray encounters when he is pressured to reinforce the “lie” that his relationship never happened, because the memories shared weren’t substantial enough to qualify as real, and the other party denies all involvement.

Gray repeats the lyric “Nobody saw us” in the opening verse like an obsessive thought he can’t shake, both reminding himself of the reality and trying to process what it means to him. He works to gaslight himself with lines lamenting that he got “erased” and his love is “undead.” Gray underscores the uneven investment and consequential emotional torment natural to noncommittal flings, making this track easily the most relatable song on the album.

The angsty and unsettled tone makes for the perfect opener. Gray transitions from an envious view of his ex for being able to act unbothered to vicarious shame. He presents “Actor” as a rebuttal to getting dumped, explaining how his past partner will never be at peace while denying his sexuality. 

Ironically, Gray’s incessant repetition of this point serves as apt foreshadowing as to how Gray is ultimately also unable to move on, and both individuals are stuck agonizing over a relationship neither will acknowledge.

The only song that evoked such strong emotions as the first track was “Class Clown,” but for all the wrong reasons. The simple lyrics attempted profundity but flopped, which will likely mirror how this song performs on the charts. The trendy, talk-singing style accompanied by irritating chords and a misguided structure where the chorus should have stood in for the bridge made the song entirely unbearable. It felt both overzealously curated and underdeveloped.

Aside from “Actor,” “Caramel” is a must listen. The main hook and chorus “You burn inside my memory so well” holds genius symbolism as to the momentary sweetness of toxic love disguising the inequity. The most engaging part of the song lies within the small breaks of the bridge where a guitar solo would perform well in a live concert. The outro on this track was certainly a favorite.

“Eleven Eleven” is a hidden gem on the album because of the darling analogies of Gray’s wishful aspirations for relationship redemption and reprise of common superstitions that encourage listeners to play along with Gray and find bonhomie in his delusions. Whether it’s “shapes in the stars” or “wishbones and clovers,” it’s difficult not to guess what Gray might reference next.

Of course, the standout single, “Vodka Cranberry,” follows suit in definite streams. His intense build up and the anticipation before the final chorus compounded with adlibs and background harmonies perfectly encapsulated the feeling of self awareness yet continued self sabotage as a result of a fear of abandonment. 

The novelty of the album was shocking and engaging because of the relatability of the songs, but as a whole, the album was lacking narratively. Gray is a talented musician with a great voice, but this latest project isn’t going to turn any haters into fans.