By: Jessica A. Dennehy
Over a year ago, Chappell Roan, dressed as the Statue of Liberty, performed a then-unreleased track during her set at the Governor’s Ball Music Festival. Titled The Subway, it was a massive hit, emerging on social media and in sound bites to this day. She continued performing it at various festivals, admitting at the Bonnaroo Music Festival that “I’m not sure if or when it’s coming out, but I just think it’s fun to sing. To me it kind of feels like Casual’s cousin.” Finally, however, your favorite artist’s favorite artist confirmed that a studio version, and the corresponding music video, would be released on July 31 at 8 PM EST.
The music video begins with Chappell Roan being loosely inspired by Cousin Itt—her impossibly long red hair weighing down on her, with the occasional chunk coming out—and navigating New York City as a trash-coated tumbleweed. As she navigates the Big Apple, a warm, almost “jammy” guitar intro begins the song. It has a relatively loose rhythm and is surprisingly organic-sounding relative to the kaleidoscopic production of most of her catalog. She finds herself chasing after a mysterious green figure, running through the streets until she just so barely misses the subway. She’s stranded on the subway platform, building up the pre-chorus wistfully and slowly.
When Chappell Roan performs the chorus, her voice takes on a drawl almost reminiscent of the Cranberries, coupled with an airy delivery and a yearnful tone. She’s found in an overcrowded subway car, paradoxically isolated from the subject of the song. The camera alternates between this and her bathing in piles of her own hair, being buried by her memories with only the occasional NYC rat to keep her company. She looks around the subway car, finding constant reminders of her ex in the advertisements, posters, and strangers around her:
But I’m still counting down all of the days
‘Til you’re just another girl on the subway
Chappell Roan’s takes “hair holds memories” to another level, in one moment exiting a cab to confront the green figure—only to have her hair be caught by the door. She’s left being dragged behind, her hair getting caught in the trash. The lyrics reflect this:
I made a promise, if in four months this feeling ain’t gone
Well, f–k this city, I’m movin’ to Saskatchewan
Even when the setting drastically shifts from an overcrowded subway to a drag party, Chappell Roan’s character remains stranded, a witness to the world around her rather than a participant. She constantly delves into the chaos, empty attempts to forget the girl in green. Her hair, while now styled as a matching set, continues to catch on her surroundings. She appears to be near drowning under its constant weight, lying near pinned by it when lying down or in the fountain.
By the outro, however, her heavy, entangling mane is gone, now replaced by a freeing bob. As trash swirls around her, it no longer snags in her hair. These scenes are coupled with those of her in the fountain and in the subway, demonstrating the ever-going battle to move on. While this cinematic masterpiece occurs, the repeated refrain, repeatedly interchanging from “She’s got a way” to “She got away,” plays again and again. As she gets closer to the end, the backing instrumental drops, and then the effects on the vocals, leaving her last line alone and completely exposed. Fittingly, the line that ends the song is “She got away, she got away“—a conclusion that lingers long after the track ends.