Home and Heartbreak: Conan Gray’s Portrayal of Queer Texas Romance in “The Wishbone Trilogy”
Texas is the stage for Conan Gray’s nostalgic Southern romance. Unfolding in fragments, “The Wishbone Trilogy” captures the ache of growing up queer in isolating spaces.
Written by Adreanna Alvarez
Photo courtesy of Rolling Stone
Leading up to the release of his fourth studio album Wishbone, pop star Conan Gray constructed a cinematic universe that has since been celebrated for its layered storytelling and evocative imagery “The Wishbone Trilogy,” consists of three music videos for his singles “This Song,” “Vodka Cranberry,” and “Caramel,” with a narrative that utilizes Gray’s home state of Texas to convey the quiet yearning of queer adolescence. Each video is a chapter in an unfinished love story, reflective of the emotional arc and sonic evolution of Wishbone itself.
Sensitivity to musical depth is not unfamiliar to Gray’s work, but Wishbone refines it. Earlier albums like Superache used rich orchestration to dramatize heartbreak, while Found Heaven encapsulated an experimental ‘80s-inspired sound. In contrast, Wishbone inhabits a midpoint, as its emotionally raw, yet composed restraint emphasizes his evolution as both a musician and storyteller.
The trilogy centers on two characters, Wilson (Gray) and Brando (actor Corey Fogelmanis), whose romance unfolds while cycling through backroads and running across sunlit fields. In “This Song,” the album’s first single, lively guitar tones and upbeat percussion mirror the intensity of a newly forming spark as the couple kisses on a rooftop and spends a flirtatious afternoon at the lake. The lyrics, “I’m too shy to tell you the words on my mind / I hope you can see if you read through these lines” are amplified through scenes of hesitant intimacy and nervous glances. The pair finds comfort in each other’s company amid the privacy of Wilson’s bedroom, where Brando is depicted sneaking in at night. The Texas landscape feels infinite, reflecting feelings of new connection and the characters’ belief that their relationship is synonymously never ending.
The confrontational “Vodka Cranberry” shifts the tone both visually and lyrically, with the musical composition mirroring the emotional restraint of the video’s visuals. In a quaint motel room, Brando pulls away from Wilson’s affection as the couple dresses for a night out. This isolating portrayal, centered through avoidant body language and dismissal, emphasizes the pair’s growing separation. Gray further accentuates this disconnection in the emotional chorus: “Speak up, I know you hate me / Looked at your picture and cried like a baby.” At a western bar, Brando continues to dismiss Wilson’s attempts to converse. The intimate narrative progresses in the dim lighting outside the building, where the tension erupts into a full-fledged argument. As Brando slams the door, Gray’s vocals escalate with the provoking drums, depicting the intensity of the couple’s unhealthy dynamic. The instrumentation fades with the lyrics “If you won’t end things, then I will.” The song concludes along with the relationship, as Brando quietly slips away while Wilson is sleeping.
The trilogy reaches its finale with the sonically intense “Caramel.” An electric guitar carries the track’s ferocity in its strings as the lyrics “You burn inside my memory so well / And the longer burn, the sweeter that you smell” convey the internal struggle of accepting loss — a battle emphasized in Wilson’s tearful gaze out of his bedroom window. The accelerating percussion heightens Wilson and Brando’s romantic tension as they unexpectedly meet again in a grocery store. Brando invites Wilson to his caravan and they passionately rekindle their connection.With a nostalgic montage of the previous videos, the song’s bridge reaches its peak through brash drums and heated vocals. The final shot portrays a soft embrace between the characters as the track concludes.
The video’s impact derives its laurels from the synthesis between sound and image. Through purposeful lyricism and cinematic visuals, Gray turns personal ache into vivid art, with the trilogy resonating through its authenticity. By utilizing his home state and casting his real-life friend Fogelmanis, Gray effectively communicates his lived experience while grounding the story in genuine fondness. Each piece reflects a distinct phase of intimacy through its sonic palette: spirited percussion for enamour, bold drums for conflict, and a fiery electric guitar for desire. The transitions between these sounds parallel the unraveling of the relationship, demonstrating how the production choices operate as effective storytelling. In a visual aspect, the color grading is reflective of Wilson and Brando’s relationship arc, featuring a warm tone for affectionate scenes and a cool hue during separation. Wilson’s rejection, surrounded by Southern elements like a cowboy leading a horse in the background of the bar, stresses the significance of Texas in the narrative. The relationship between Wilson and Brando is tender but muted, abundant in subtle gestures familiar to anyone who’s had to navigate queer affection quietly. By transforming the Texas landscape into both a wound and a refuge, he accentuates its quiet beauty through the lens of youthful longing.
With Wishbone debuting at number three on the Billboard 200, the trilogy serves as a compelling introduction to Gray’s most successful album yet. Gray situates Wishbone as a reclamation of the ache that shapes love for many. The trilogy’s substance is reflective of an artist that is not merely revisiting his past, but instead using it for growth. As he pairs the vulnerability of his lyrics with immersive sound and imagery, Gray redefines the portrait of a pop narrative with an intimate portrayal of love in his home state.