The first time I heard The Lumineers, I was nine years old, wedged into the backseat of my babysitter’s car, where the air always smelled like chai and the radio was permanently set to something soulful. It was “Ho Hey”—arguably their most famous song—playing through the speakers two years after their debut album had already left its mark on the world.
My babysitter was the kind of girl who lined her eyes with eyeliner every morning, scrolled Tumblr like it was scripture, and stomped around in combat boots as if the world was a battlefield. She was effortlessly cool to my elementary school brain, and by association, so was this music.
Specific albums become more than just music; they become sensory time capsules. Even now, hearing anything from their first debut album or their second, Cleopatra instantly drags me back to that car: the scratchy felt of the seats against my legs. This warmth flooded in after waiting in the cold for her to reach the front of the carpool line, the way the bass rattled just slightly too much in the speakers.
By 2019, when III came out, I had long outgrown babysitters, but The Lumineers still felt like a constant. “Leader of the Landslide,” “Donna,” “It Wasn’t Easy Being Happy for You”—they weren’t just songs. They were the soundtrack to teenage heartbreaks, late-night overthinking, and problems that felt enormous at the moment but faded just as quickly.
This band has been a constant through many phases of growing up—always there, always familiar. So when Automatic dropped last Friday, I didn’t just press play—I was ready to sink into it.
I’m a woman of many lists—favorite movies, songs, poems, you name it. But one of my most prized (and one of the five notes permanently pinned on my phone) is a list titled “Song Lyrics That Make Me Crazy.” It’s been growing for years, stretching across seven or eight full scrolls, and remains one of my favorite things I’ve ever compiled.
So, in the spirit of that list, I wanted to break down Automatic, The Lumineers’ newest album, by choosing my favorite lyric from each song—because if any band knows how to write lyrics that linger, it’s them. I also love over-analyzing and sharing my opinions with the world, so without further ado and in no particular order, here it goes.
“And everyone’s alright / I could not afford to see the light.”
Everyone’s moving on, growing up, figuring things out—except me, stuck in the emotional bargain bin, unable to afford clarity.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me / I killed the mood so naturally / Thе guests begin to make mе feel alone.”
Some people ruin something extraordinary by accident. Others have it down to an art form. There is nothing like being surrounded by people and still feeling like the only one in the room.
“And I know what you said to me was wrong, but kindness came and bit my tongue; I must admit, the taste of it is keepin’ me awake.”
Being the bigger person is exhausting, especially when you’re losing sleep over everything you should have said instead of biting your tongue.
“And all the twenty-something mannequins / Their hearts are barely broken in / But maybe now I’m just a coward envying the brave / And every time you tried to let me in / Your nails, they barely broke the skin / I must admit, the taste of it is keeping me awake.”
Everyone around me seems new, untouched as if they haven’t learned the hard way yet. Meanwhile, I envy the ones who go all in without fear—unlike someone whose version of love barely left a mark.
“Take your victory lap / Running on an empty track / The circle always brings you back / Keep it in the lane.”
Congrats on the win, but you’re just running in circles. Eventually, you’ll end up right back where you started; I hope you like déjà vu.
“Oh, lover, is it ever going to be enough?”
No matter how much I give, it never fills the empty space you refuse to acknowledge.
“And I can’t give it up / Fillin’ all the holes in us / You’re all that I got.”
Trying to patch up a sinking ship with duct tape and denial.
“And I can’t give it up like Sisyphus below the rock.”
Loving you felt like pushing a boulder uphill forever, except you were at the top, watching, arms crossed.
“Plasticine, I can bend me into anything you need.”
Ah yes, the classic “I’ll change for you” trap until you realize that bending too much makes you shapeless.
“If I can’t make you happy, then nobody can.”
The delusional stage of heartbreak, where you convince yourself you were their last shot at happiness. Spoiler: you probably weren’t.
“I’ll be on the bullet train to Neverland / Your enemy with benefits, we’rе free / I’ll provide the poison and the mеdicine / The only thing you’re ever gonna need.”
Running away from responsibility at high speed while calling it “freedom”—sounds familiar? Pay close attention to the Neverland reference… as in Peter Pan… as in the boy who never grew up.
“Keys on the Table”
“And if you’ve lost the faith, boy / Leave your keys up on the table / Evеrybody knows, everybody knows / Scared you had a bad heart / And you’re sleeping in the carpark / Everybody knows you’re all I got”
If you’re out, be out. Stop hovering near the door like you’re unsure. And yes, everyone sees what I tried to ignore.
“Say somethin’, I’m sorry, please / Can’t we scroll back and delete?”
It’s an entire song pointing out what a waste of a generation we live in and how we sometimes wish there could be a delete button in real life.
“Sit in isolation all the time / I’ll be on the ocean in your eyes / Tell it on the mountain, “He’s arrived” / Maybe we’ll be famous when we die”
Some people lock themselves away; others chase connection in the wrong places. Either way, no one sees each other until it’s too late.
If this album confused you and you’re still looking for another “Ho Hey” or “Cleopatra,” you might be missing the point. The Lumineers have never been about one breakout song. They have always been about the full journey, the kind of songwriting that lingers long after the first listen. Automatic is no exception.
And in true Lumineers fashion, they released it on Valentine’s Day, a perfectly timed gut-punch for anyone reflecting on love in all its stages. The new, the old, the almosts, and the ones that slipped away. Or maybe that was just me.