Grapevine by Weyes Blood Lyrics Meaning – Traversing Emotional Highways and Nostalgic Byways

You can view the lyrics, alternate interprations and sheet music for Weyes Blood's Grapevine at Lyrics.org.

Lyrics

If a man can’t see his shadow
He can block your sun all day
He can make you small
He has the power to take his love away
Six hours on the grapevine
And I feel kidnapped this time
‘Cause my baby thinks
He always believes
That he’s always right

But I still think of him at night
And ooh, you know I would
Go back to the camp
With the kerosene lamps in the woods
Ooh, when you were mine
And I was yours for a time

On the grapevine
On the grapevine

California’s my body
And your fire runs over me
My car broke down
In an old ghost town right around
Where they got James Dean
Emotional cowboy
With no hat and no boots
He stayed up all night
Trying to beat up the moon

And ooh, you know I would
Go back to the camp
With the kerosene lamps in the woods
Ooh, when you were mine
And I was yours for a time

On the grapevine
On the grapevine

Don’t know when I’m gonna see you, boy
Oh, I’ve been waiting for the time
When I see the light shining across
The freeway late at night
Start to drift over the land
And it hits me for the first time
Now we’re just two cars passing by
On the grapevine
Oh, oh

On the grapevine
On the grapevine

In the vast expanse of the musical universe, Weyes Blood has carved out a crevice that resonates with the echoes of introspection and wistfulness. Her song ‘Grapevine’ is not just a melody but a journey—one that transports the listener along the twisted vines of retrospection and longing. It’s a ballad that cradles the heartache born of love lost and the yearning for a past that promises comfort yet is unreachable.

Natalie Mering, the creative force behind Weyes Blood, has been recognized for her alchemy of transforming simple notes into profound emotional experiences. ‘Grapevine’ is no different, as it serves as both a personal narrative and a universal truth wrapped in the enigmatic metaphors that are her trademark. Below, we explore the soul of ‘Grapevine,’ unwinding its tendrils to unveil the layers of meaning that lie beneath its surface.

Shadows and Sunlight: The Power Dynamics of Intimacy

Mering delves into the delicacy of power within relationships in the opening lines of ‘Grapevine.’ The shadow that can’t be seen, yet can obscure the sun all day, points to the unseen influences a partner can wield—how they can diminish our presence or revoke the warmth of their affection on a whim. This power struggle sets the foundation of the song, raising questions about the cost of love and the toll of emotional dependence.

Is it an allusion to personal autonomy being overcast by the overshadowing nature of a dominant figure? As the music quietly builds, the theme of losing oneself to another’s opaque influence becomes a central cord winding through the melody. It’s about love as a relinquishing of power, but also recognizes the duality that can exist when that power overwhelms.

The Long Road Through Memory: A Six-Hour Contemplation

‘Six hours on the grapevine’ doesn’t merely refer to a stretch of Californian highway; it symbolizes a protracted period of introspection and entrapment in the web of past affections. This lyrical motif is pregnant with the idea of being ‘kidnapped’ by one’s own ruminations, a voluntary captivity within the memory of the one who once believed they were ‘always right.’

Mering captures a universal sentiment, presenting the listener with a relatable tableau: the inability to disentangle thoughts from the person who has left an indelible mark on one’s heart. The grapevine becomes a metaphor for the path of recollection—the twists and turns of perusing what once was and no longer is.

Discovering the ‘Emotional Cowboy’ Within the Verses

Weyes Blood draws a vibrant character in the ‘Emotional Cowboy,’ a figure both endearing and complex. Bereft of the traditional trappings of a cowboy—’no hat and no boots’—this individual stands in contrast to the stoic images we conjure of cowhands. Instead, we are presented with a vivid picture of vulnerability, a person wrestling with intangible foes like the moon in the vast frontier of their own emotional landscape.

There’s a raw authenticity here, as if Mering is pulling from the deepest wells of her creative psyche to present a persona wrapped in the solitude of their own emotional expanse. This passage is not about grit, but the softness that emerges in the solitary hours of introspection when left to one’s own devices—and demons.

The Haunting Refrain: ‘Ooh, you know I would’ and the Lure of the Past

One of the most piercing elements of ‘Grapevine’ is the recurring yearning expressed in the phrase: ‘Ooh, you know I would.’ It’s a haunting echo, a sentiment of willingness to return to an older, perhaps simpler, time of kerosene lamps and untamed woods. When love was shared and all-encompassing, even amid the promise of its inevitable ephemerality.

The bittersweet nostalgia is palpable, as Mering croons of a desire to retreat into a shared history. The lines are not just memorable for their melody, but for the deep longing they tap into—a universal ache for the intimacy and closeness of a love that once felt endless and is now just a wisp of smoke in the winds of the past.

Unraveling ‘On the Grapevine’: Moving Beyond Nostalgia to New Horizons

Ultimately, as ‘Grapevine’ reaches its zenith, the narrative shifts from the tight orbit of personal reminiscence to a broader contemplation of growth and change. The repetitive chorus ‘On the grapevine’ transcends its literal meaning, signifying the passage of time and a movement away from what once was, towards an unknown future.

This is the secret heart of ‘Grapevine’—the recognition that no matter how much we are tethered to our past loves and losses, life propels us forward. We are all ‘just two cars passing by,’ a fleeting intersection of paths on the highways of existence. Therein lies the melancholic beauty Mering encapsulates: the acceptance of transience as an integral, yet painful, part of the human experience.