Wiki
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Length
5:01
If Matty has a subject he’s best at writing about, it’s the fucked up individuals he meets and observes. ‘Paris’ is a masterclass in that. Its main focus is a coked up girl he meets at a party, who “had to leave cos she couldn’t hack it/Not enough noise and too much racket”. Later, there’s the implication that she’s moaning about missing a party because “her friend kept cutting her wrists”, and being materialistic (“She pointed at the bag of her dreams in a well posh magazine”).
He’s also, as evidenced earlier on the album, great at writing about his own issues, and this song is no different. There’s the romantic infidelities (“I’ve got two left feet and I’m starting to cheat on my girlfriend again”), and his well-publicised addictions (“As the crowd cheered for an overdose”, “I said ‘I’m done babe, I’m out of the scene’/But I was picking up on Bethnal Green/She said I’d been romanticising heroin”). The lyrics are sad enough as it is, but combined with the glittering, melancholy mesh that the remaining Adam, George and bassist MacDonald build beneath, it’s utterly depressing.
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