There are some songs that you like, some songs that you love, and then there are songs that somehow seem to understand you.
For me, Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls has always been one of those songs.
I’ve loved Iris for as long as I can remember. It’s one of those songs that has somehow become timeless. It has been covered by countless artists over the years, with each person putting their own interpretation and personality into it, and somehow the song just keeps finding new life.
That’s one of the things I love about music. A song can be written decades ago, yet still manage to say something to someone today that feels incredibly personal.
And Iris has certainly done that for me.
More than just the melody
For a long time, I think I appreciated Iris primarily because it is simply a beautiful song. The melody, the build, the emotion in the original recording — there’s a reason it has endured for so long.
But as I’ve gotten older, the lyrics have started to mean something very different to me.
At its heart, Iris feels like a song about wanting to be truly known by someone.
Not the version of yourself that you show to the world. Not the version that you think other people expect you to be. The real you.
And that is something I have struggled with for a very long time.
I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling misunderstood. There have been periods where I’ve felt like I was living a life that didn’t quite feel like my own, or that the people around me didn’t really understand what was going on underneath the surface.
That can be an incredibly lonely feeling.
I think that is why the song resonates with me so strongly. There is this overwhelming desire within it to find that one person with whom you can finally drop the walls, stop pretending that everything is fine, and simply be yourself.
To be seen.
To be understood.
To have that deep, genuine connection with someone where you don’t have to constantly explain yourself.
That is something I’ve wanted for a very, very long time.
Connection, loneliness and vulnerability
There is a particular kind of loneliness that comes from being surrounded by people while still feeling like nobody really knows you.
I think Iris captures that feeling incredibly well.
It isn’t simply about wanting somebody to love you. It is about wanting somebody to understand you — the complicated parts, the vulnerable parts, the parts you aren’t necessarily proud of, and the parts you don’t always know how to explain yourself.
For me, that has made the song increasingly personal.
After years of feeling misunderstood, and after experiences that have made it difficult for me to trust people and let them see who I really am, the idea of finally having that kind of connection has become incredibly important.
And maybe that’s why the song feels slightly different to me now than it did when I first heard it.
I didn’t necessarily understand all of that when I was younger.
I just knew I loved the song.
Now I understand why.
My first real step into singing
There was another reason that recording Iris was such a significant moment for me.
It was the first song where I recorded vocals.
My first release, Hero, was a fully instrumental cover. There was a very good reason for that, but I also wasn’t confident enough in my singing to put my voice out there yet.
Recording Iris changed that.
It was almost my transition from simply experimenting with music into actually becoming an artist.
That sounds like a big statement, but it genuinely felt like one.
I have never had a huge amount of confidence in my voice. Singing in front of other people can be intimidating enough, let alone recording something in a studio, having somebody else hear it, and then eventually putting it on the internet for anyone to listen to.
So sitting in the studio and recording Iris was a pretty big deal for me.
There was definitely a lot of nervousness involved.
And then came the even scarier part: actually releasing it.
Putting my version out into the world
I won’t lie — releasing Iris was incredibly nerve-wracking.
There is something very different about putting your voice out there compared with releasing an instrumental track.
With an instrumental, you can hide behind the music a little bit.
With a vocal performance, you’re right there.
It’s your voice. Your emotion. Your interpretation.
And with Iris, there was another layer to it for me.
This wasn’t just a song I happened to record.
In a very real sense, recording and releasing it became a way of expressing something that I struggle to say directly.
That I want somebody to know who I really am.
Not the version of me that I’ve spent years trying to present to other people. Not the version that has everything figured out. Not the version that pretends not to need anyone.
Just me.
The person underneath all of that.
And while there isn't yet a particular person who sits at the heart of that feeling for me, I think the broader message is something that many people can relate to.
Most of us want to be understood.
Most of us want to feel like somebody genuinely sees us.
And sometimes, we struggle to find the words to explain that ourselves.
When a song says it for you
I’ve talked about this in previous blogs, but I think it’s one of the most powerful things about music.
Sometimes a song can explain how you’re feeling far more effortlessly than you ever could yourself.
You can spend hours trying to find the right words to explain what’s going on inside your head, only to hear a song and think: that’s it. That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.
For me, Iris is one of those songs.
It has been for years, but I understand it in a completely different way now.
Recording my own version wasn’t just about covering one of my favourite songs. It was about finally having the courage to put my voice behind words that already meant so much to me.
And maybe that’s what makes this release so special.
Yes, I’m proud of the recording.
Yes, I’m proud that I finally had the confidence to sing.
But more than anything, I’m proud that I allowed myself to be vulnerable enough to say something through music that I’ve struggled to say in words.
Sometimes you don’t need to write the words yourself.
Sometimes somebody else has already written them for you.
You just need to find the courage to sing them.
— Nathan