This past week, on a crisp February morning, the familiar opening chords of “Amoeba” by Clairo drifted from my Subaru’s speakers. The jaunty piano and flowery lyrics colored my commute to student teaching with light and joy.

I’ve adored this track from her sophomore album, “Sling,” since its release in 2021. It’s undeniably catchy and ended up being the best-performing song from the late summer record. 

As I listened along, I was reminded just how much of a poet Claire Cottrill really is. The lyric, “And centerfold, humility’s shown, you’re not as good as what your mama’s sewn,” jogged a pleasant memory for me. 

A few summers ago, I worked a sleepy office job that was far from mentally stimulating. Listening to musician interviews propelled me through plodding hours of scanning files and left me with random tidbits of knowledge about my most beloved music artists. 

When my eyes drooped in the dim lighting swathing my desk, I’d plug my headphones in to stay afloat. This ultimately led to a hobby of analyzing songs just as one would a poem or a piece of prose — the English teacher in me would love to chat about how songs are poetry, but we’ll save that conversation for another time.

Upon hearing “Amoeba” that morning, I recalled sitting in my cubicle and eagerly listening to Cottrill’s Rolling Stone’s “The Breakdown” with Jack Antonoff, the co-producer of “Sling.” 

I was shocked and endeared by Cottrill’s candor in discussing “Amoeba’s” references to being utterly disappointed in herself and the choices she made at the beginning of her career. 

In “The Breakdown,” Cottrill states she feels becoming a musician is a venture that breeds selfishness and isolation, if one is not careful. “Amoeba” explores Cottrill’s experiences with navigating this fine line, unsuccessfully at first. 

The lyric I mentioned before, “You’re not as good as what your mama’s sewn,” alludes to the gut-wrenching feeling of disappointing your mother. Any young woman has experienced the acidic fear of ultimately not living up to their mother’s expectations or deviating from the path she outlined. 

Cottrill’s lyric articulates this feeling with whimsy and grace. But the groovy softness of the accompanying instrumentals makes for a dizzying combination of sobering reflection and unforgettable melodies. “Amoeba” is unique in that way, without a doubt. 

Another lyric I often revisit is, “I can hope tonight goes differently, but I show up to the party just to leave.” 

This line narrates the tense experience of showing your face at an event and eagerly anticipating the moment you can retire from the occasion. Here, Cottrill confronts her tendency to make the wrong decisions early on in her career. 

Cottrill’s evident frustration with her past self in “Amoeba” renders this song a truthful, relatable listen. 

Learning more about “Amoeba” from the Rolling Stone and my own analysis reminded me that great songs can cleverly shroud intense personal exploration behind unique, seemingly lighthearted melodies.

If you are feeling inclined to stream the magnificent Clairo after this read, check out “Sling” on Spotify.

O’Brien can be reached at [email protected].