‘Wreck You’ – Lori McKenna

Lori McKenna, artist, musician and songwriter of melancholy. If you’ve heard a song that’s beautifully understated and introspective but has you weeping into your tea by the last chorus, then Lori McKenna is mostly likely behind it. Think Mandy Moore’s ‘Everblue‘ and Ashley Monroe’s ‘The Morning After

This month, McKenna released ‘Wreck You’ the first single off her new album ‘The Bird & the Rifle‘ produced by Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Chris Stapleton, Anderson East). The song has been in McKenna’s repertoire for a number of years and has been covered by other artists but found its way onto the album. In Lori’s own words, “the song just won’t die.”

Wreck You‘ is told from the anguished point of view of someone whose relationship is beginning to fall apart at the seams and she’s not sure where the fault lies but whatever she does, all she seems to do is make it worse and inflict more hurt on the other person. The silence between them just grows and grows; the only way silence knows how to.

“I don’t know how to pull you back/ I don’t know how to pull you close/ All I know, is how to wreck you/ Something between us changed/ And I’m not sure if it’s you or me/ But lately, all I do seems to wreck you”

Things they used to find sweet or endearing about each other are now just annoying; communication is at a standstill; the other person has turned their back, leaving the other feeling completely and utterly alone with all of the pain and grief; sitting on the floor in the midst of a love falling apart and down around them.

A wall has been formed and a shared language that was once so effortless, no longer is. It’s the saddest and most tragic way for a relationship to end because no matter how many times you go back in your memory, tracing each and every moment, you can never quite pin point the moment it all went from being full of ease to being full of friction and hurt. You’re left powerless; watching the threads in your hands slowly unravel and fall to the floor, and the person who sat across from you at the table is starting to blur, and it’s like trying to find them through a telescope; so close, yet so far away.

“Every now and then after work I don’t go straight home/ I might sit out by the lake and wonder/ I can almost see the face of a little blue eyed girl/ And the boy who thought he knew/ Everything about her”.

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