The story behind the song
The loves that did not
There were people before. Relationships that felt significant and then ended. Some of them hurt. Some of them felt, at the time, like evidence that something was wrong with me.
“I thought I’d have to settle / For someone who felt like less / Convinced myself that good enough / Was all I’d ever get.”
That is an honest place to start. The exhaustion of almost-loves. The quiet defeat of another thing that did not work.
What I was wrong about
The thing I did not understand at the time was that every no was a direction. Every closed door was clearing a path. Not in some mystical, everything-happens-for-a-reason sense, but practically: every relationship that did not work meant I was still available when the right one arrived.
“All the almosts led me here / Every no was pointing me to you.”
That is not a tidy sentiment. It is something I actually believe. The heartbreaks I mourned were, in retrospect, the most generous things that could have happened.
The shared journey
The song shifts in the final chorus from “me” to “we.” Both people had their almosts. Both had their seasons of defeat and exhaustion, and lowered expectations. And both of them had to become who they needed to be before they could recognise each other.
“We were both becoming / Who we needed to be / To recognise this kind of love / When it finally found us.”
That is the beauty of it. You cannot rush it. You just have to keep walking until you arrive somewhere worth arriving.
The sound
Mid-tempo folk rock duet. The Civil Wars meets Brandi Carlile. Intimate verses, big choruses, a stripped-back bridge that makes the final chorus feel like an arrival. The dynamic arc moves from defeat to deep, honest gratitude.
Listen to “All the almosts” from the album In the fog.
