B-Side Guys

The cruel joke in Coyle Girelli’s “Out of this Town” isn’t that escape is impossible—it’s that the protagonist has already made his peace with staying. That resignation permeates every verse, turning what could be typical small-town lament into something far more psychologically complex. When Girelli sings “There’s one long road running through these parts / Pretty much stops right where it starts,” he’s not describing a literal cul-de-sac but a complete collapse of forward momentum, where infrastructure itself mirrors the stagnation of possibility.

What makes this Americana heartbreaker devastating is how Girelli layers obligation over desire until they become indistinguishable. The recurring dream of flying into the sun—pure Icarus mythology filtered through Dust Bowl desperation—exists only as punctuation between verses cataloging concrete entrapments: Jenny’s kisses since eleventh grade, the stroller and wedding gown, the father lowered into the same soil that grows nothing but weeds through abandoned train tracks. Girelli’s voice carries that Orbison ache without the operatic excess, finding instead a weathered restraint that makes lines like “you just can’t get there from here” sound less like complaint and more like geographical fact.

The production strips everything back to acoustic essentials, letting Girelli’s vocal occupy the emotional center while sparse instrumentation suggests the emptiness of those surrounding plains. There’s no dramatic build, no cathartic release—just the steady accumulation of reasons why leaving stopped being an option years ago. The preacher’s promise of a “better place” for his buried father becomes the song’s darkest irony: the only escape route runs six feet down.

Girelli understands that entrapment isn’t always external. Sometimes it’s the love you made, the life you started, the responsibilities that turn geographical boundaries into psychological ones. The repeated refrain “I ain’t ever gonna get out of this town” transforms across the song from lament to acceptance to something approaching identity. By the final verse, staying isn’t defeat—it’s simply what happens when roots grow too deep to pull without tearing everything apart.