Conan Gray — Wishbone Album Review

From bedroom-pop heartbreak to bold confessionals, Conan Gray proves he’s grown into one of pop’s most daring storytellers.

Contributed by: LJ Portnoy, Editor-in-Chief

Photography by: Dillon Matthew (@dillonmatthewc on instagram)

A Leap Beyond Kid Krow

Conan Gray has always written like someone with nothing to hide. His debut, Kid Krow, was a scrapbook of teenage heartbreak—raw, diaristic, and messy in a way that made it instantly relatable. Superache leveled up the emotional stakes, with tighter pop craft and sweeping ballads that hinted at the artist he was becoming. But Wishbone? This is where Conan stops hinting and steps fully into his artistry. It’s not just lyrical honesty anymore—it’s musical ambition. It’s him pushing his own boundaries—sonically, thematically, and personally.

Pulling Off the Mask

The opener, Actor, feels like a thesis statement. “You’re a much better actor than me” isn’t just a jab at an ex—it’s a dismantling of performance itself. The track’s cinematic rise and carefully layered production instantly feel different from Kid Krow’s bedroom-pop beginnings. It’s bigger, bolder, and unapologetically theatrical.

Photography by: Dillon Matthew (@dillonmatthewc on instagram)

When the Ghost Has a Name

That directness reaches its peak on Connell, where Gray does the thing pop stars almost never do: he names names. “Kissing your ghost was my own damn fault” isn’t just about personal heartbreak. It’s about loving someone who couldn’t stand in the light with him. What could have been a diary entry becomes a refusal to let queerness be erased or disguised.

A Sonic Glow-Up

But Wishbone isn’t just lyrically daring—it’s musically adventurous in ways Conan hasn’t attempted before. Class Clown bends into Beatles-esque psychedelia, a sad confession dressed up in kaleidoscopic sound. Cornell starts delicate before dissolving into a swirling outro that shifts keys and feels like falling into another dimension. These choices aren’t just flourishes—they’re Conan expanding his vocabulary. He’s not just telling stories anymore; he’s painting with sound.

Bridges That Bleed

If there’s one place Gray has grown the most, it’s in his bridges. He’s always known how to twist a knife lyrically, but here, the bridges detonate. Nauseous rips into Olivia Rodrigo–like fury, a jagged meltdown that feels destined for arena screams. Romeo flips from glossy pop to blunt declaration—“You’ve got to figure out your shit with someone else, man. I can’t fix you, I’m sorry.” It’s bratty, liberating, and unforgettable.

The Ache That Stays

Even in its quietest moments, Gray won’t let you off easy. On Care, he admits, “Though I won’t miss being your lover, I’m still losing a friend.” It’s the kind of line that burrows under your skin because it’s so simple and so true. That balance of bold experimentation with devastating intimacy is what makes Wishbone feel like a turning point.

Final Word: Growth Without Apology

Wishbone doesn’t feel cautious—it feels fearless. Conan stretches his sound into new shapes, experiments with psychedelia and key shifts, and writes bridges that demand to be screamed back at him on tour. The growth from Kid Krow to Wishbone is staggering. The diarist has become a craftsman. The bedroom-pop kid has become a performer unafraid of theatrics, soundscapes, and scale. And the queer kid whispering secrets into a mic has become a queer artist refusing to whisper at all.

This is Conan Gray at his boldest—messy, specific, ambitious, and entirely unafraid. Exactly the kind of growth fans have been waiting for.

SoundCheck Rating: 8/10 — A daring leap forward that cements Conan Gray as one of pop’s most fearless young voices.