When Conan Gray biked onto the stage at Cincinnati’s Riverbend Music Center, he kicked up the kickstand on a dream-like journey. Our 26-year-old adventurer — now on his sixth headlining tour ( the second of which has stopped in Cincinnati) — was framed by a sailor’s outfit, smoky spotlight and campy charm.
The opening set design featured a windmill and a Kansas sky that almost beckoned a bark from Toto. Later, night clouds caked the stage as Gray sang, “I still wish for you at 11:11.”
You could call the aesthetic “mystical, magical,” but those words are — ahem — taken by another touring pop star.
“The Wishbone Pajama Show” stayed true to its name: It was the sleepover that thousands of younger fans dreamt their parents would let them attend. And while they came wearing silk blue pajamas, nobody would be getting any rest.
Although Gray’s imagery is abstract, this album is his most honest. Gray wrote Wishbone quietly and mostly in secret over about two years, often while on tour for his previous album, Found Heaven, which was produced largely by Max Martin. Gray described this new project as a deeply personal one of self-discovery, confession and healing through heartbreak. (Fans asked on social media: “Damn, who hurt Conan Gray?”) His music was so personal that he didn’t initially share it with some of his closest friends. Daniel Nigro — who supported the quintessential Gray album Kid Krow — returned to the producing chair for this most recent August release.
The star-studded sequences reminded me of the light-up sticky stars on my childhood bedroom ceiling. Gray took us back to youth and kept some of his younger fans there. That being said, the brightness of the stars was often dimmed by the darkness of the lyrics.
“I had some things that I wanted to say that had been stressing me out,” Gray told Cosmopolitan last month, right after Wishbone was released. “I just had to get them off my chest. […] When I was in rehearsals for my tour, they played me the arrangement they made for ‘Class Clown.’ The second we started getting into it and I tried to sing the first words, I fully started crying. I forgot that’s how it feels and that I was actually going to say everything that I was saying on the album.”
Gray sounds poetic in “Class Clown”:
Growing up didn’t go how I’d liked
It twists and turns like the limbs of a pine
Trying to grow on earth that writhes
And do it all with the biggest smile
And in “Caramel”:
Your cigarette breath thick on your open mouth
Maple and amber clouds and coffee grounds when I think of it now
And perhaps most heartbreakingly in “Connell”:
Deep in my bones I know pain is what I earned
You remind me of how good it feels to hurt
You remind me of how little I deserve
You remind me of my father slurring words
Then Gray fell onto a bed set piece, writhing to a pounding rock beat that was both pained and impassioned. He belted the name “Connell” in a reference that still isn’t fully understood by fans. (Who is Connell? Drop a comment if you know.)
There’s a lot to unpack (i.e. childhood trauma bleeding into toxic adult situationships) and it’s a striking (likely intentional) juxtaposition against a backdrop of stormy skies and sailboats. The result is a distressing sense of self-hatred and a loss of innocence, compounded by one of Gray’s recurring themes: being toyed with by a man before being tossed aside for a woman.
In “Romeo,” Gray underscores this:
I don’t want to know what you did
With all the girls you swapped me with
Your drunken mouth all on her lips
Guess I was just your experiment
I admire how Gray approaches sexuality with personal experience and pain all intertwined. He doesn’t sanitize the queer experience (in fact, he doesn’t even give it a name); he just shows beauty and brutality side by side.
One of the most TikTok-worthy bridges comes during the tour’s opener, “My World”:
A full year later, you’re calling me back
You say you’re sorry for treating me like trash
It’s totally okay, dude, I really don’t mind
You got your revenge by being stuck with your life
He then twists the knife on gender roles:
So you can keep drinking and living a lie
And talking all low when you’re out with the guys
Doesn’t matter to me, it won’t affect my life
‘Cause I don’t care anymore
Gray has made it clear – sometimes quite pointedly – that he won’t be boxed in by labels around sexuality. When fans pressed him to identify as “gay” or otherwise, he clapped back on social media, saying people want to “place a label” on him. He urged them to “just let me exist.” He acknowledged that labels can be useful for those who want them, but they become harmful when used to shove others into “neat little boxes.”
Gray’s performance at Riverbend got deep. After all, this music was originally just for him to process. And although his storytelling could be emotionally draining, he didn’t let the audience fall completely into a torpedo of despair. He peppered the setlist with a few more uptempo tracks from other albums like “Never Ending Song” and “Bourgeoisieses.” In a sweet moment, he reminded the crowd they are loved — not just by him, but by everyone standing shoulder to shoulder at Riverbend.
In Gray’s biggest single from the album, “Vodka Cranberry,” Gray knocked the high note out of the park (just like he did at the MTV Video Music Awards a little over a week ago). However, watching his choreography (or lack thereof) made me giggle a bit. He was more of a singer and guitarist than a dancer, although his energetic moves were endearingly fun.
And Gray can be funny. He sarcastically told the Cincinnati crowd: “This is my last song. I’m definitely not coming back out.” Then, to the immense shock of the crowd, he returned for more (which, of course, almost every singer does).
Gray was unapologetically himself, blending trauma, humor and raw emotion into a show that spoke to audiences who might increasingly feel unheard. His range — vocally, instrumentally, emotionally — makes it clear he’s a lot more than “Olivia Rodrigo’s twink.” Gray is a young talent charting a journey of something honest and cathartic. And as for me — a 34-year-old man at what was essentially a massive sleepover — I have to admit (in the least creepy way possible) I should’ve dressed the part.