Backseat Reverie

A song about first love, old memories, and the people who stay with you long after you leave town.

I think everyone has one memory that refuses to stay in the past. You can be getting on with your life, hear a certain song or drive down a familiar road, and suddenly you’re seventeen again. That’s what Backseat Reverie is about.

It’s inspired by those first big relationships that feel like they’ll last forever because you don’t know yet that some people are only meant to be part of one chapter of your life. Looking back, I don’t think I was really writing about one person as much as I was writing about a moment in time.

When you’re young, everything feels bigger. Late-night drives, cheap drinks, holding someone’s hand for the first time—they all seem like they’ll define the rest of your life. Years later, you realise you remember the feeling more than the details.

I wanted the song to feel like a memory itself: warm, a little blurry, and impossible to hold onto. That’s why there’s so much imagery of dashboard lights, old roads and passing places. Those are the things that seem to stay with us long after conversations have been forgotten.

I don’t see Backseat Reverie as a sad song, even though there’s heartbreak in it. It’s more about appreciating the people who helped shape you, even if they were only in your life for a little while. Not every love story has to last forever to matter.

Whenever I sing it, I’m reminded that growing up isn’t about forgetting where you’ve been. It’s about carrying those memories with you without letting them stop you from moving forward.