It's Not Just Me, It's Everybody

This is the album's clearest statement of thesis, and it works because Mering makes a sociological argument feel like a personal ache. The production is lush and slightly hymnal: soft-rock guitar, a gently insistent rhythm, layered harmonies that bloom into something closer to a congregation than a backing vocal. There's a warmth to the mix — analog, seventies-facing, deliberately unclinical — that stands in tension with the subject. The lyric names the condition directly: everyone is lonely, everyone is looking at a screen, "we've all become strangers," and the relief the song offers is not a solution but the recognition that the isolation is collective. That reframing is the whole trick, and the title says it outright. Her vocal is generous here, less remote than on earlier records, warm in its middle register and rising into something almost consoling. Weyes Blood released this in 2022 into a culture still processing pandemic-era atomization, and it landed as a kind of secular hymn. It's music for the moment you look up in a crowded room and realize nobody is present. Best heard communally, actually — it's one of her few songs that gains something from being played out loud with other people in the room.