Inspired by a Real Village of Scarecrows, Paige O Finds Haunting Beauty in Absence on New Single Scarecrow Village
There’s something quietly devastating and deeply poetic about Paige O’s new single, Scarecrow Village. Inspired by a real-life town in Japan filled with life-sized scarecrows representing departed or absent villagers, the track tiptoes the line between eerie and heartbreakingly beautiful—just like the place that sparked it.
With the gentle ache of indie-folk storytelling and the emotional punch of an artist who truly feels what she writes, Paige O brings the metaphor of the scarecrow village to life—not just as a strange curiosity, but as a mirror to her own experiences of absence and longing. “I thought it was so beautiful but everyone I showed it to said it was creepy or scary,” she explains. “That really shocked me.” But as she sat with it longer, the connection deepened. “Part of me wishes I could make scarecrows of all the friends who’ve moved away for school while I stayed home.”
That simple but powerful idea—holding space for those who are gone, trying to preserve what’s lost—beats at the heart of Scarecrow Village. The song unfurls like a panic attack: starting soft and slow, gradually rising in tension, then exhaling into calm. That emotional arc isn’t just lyrical—it’s built right into the structure of the music. “It’s like a sigh of relief,” Paige says. “I wanted to reflect that arc musically, not just lyrically.”
Paige O’s sound has always been rooted in raw feeling, but Scarecrow Village might be her most emotionally precise work yet. There are echoes of Leonard Cohen’s quiet poetry, the grungey catharsis of ‘90s alt-rock, and the aching intimacy of artists like Mitski and boygenius—but make no mistake, this is a voice carving out its own path. One pink diary and one heartbreak at a time.
Whether she’s writing about forgotten towns or the ache of growing up, Paige O is crafting a world that’s strange, soft, and impossible to forget. And Scarecrow Village is another beautiful corner of it.
