Tattooed, pierced, multi-racial: Kane Brown is an eminent arena-packing music sensation blazing his own path to country music fame. First emerging on social media singing covers, and releasing a crowd-funded EP in 2015, he has earned 10 chart-topping No. 1 singles on country radio. Now headlining sold- out international tours and stadium dates, his latest collection is aptly titled Different Man.

Growing up with an imprisoned father, Kane Brown moved between hardscrabble northwest Georgia and small town Tennessee—sometimes living in a car with his mother, and suffering a stepfather’s physical abuse. Remarkably, he kept his life on course. For this exclusive MC interview, he speaks of collaborative songwriting, show-stopping stagecraft, the strength of family, and the ever-expanding inclusion of modern country music. 

Music Connection: We enjoyed hearing your duet with Elvis Presley on “Blue Christmas” this past holiday season. The King and the Kane—that is quite a combination. 

Kane Brown: Honestly, I was so excited. I did a rendition of the song last year. And when they came back and said they were going to throw him on there, I was blown away. It was out of this world crazy. I got to talk to some of the people who worked with him, and they said they saw a great amount of similarities—with both of us breaking barriers, with people telling us, “No, you can’t do this,” but we did it anyway.  This was awesome, coming from people I’ve met who actually knew him. But I would never compare myself to The King. 

MC: One of your new tracks, “I Can Feel It,” is built on a sample from “In The Air Tonight” by Phil Collins. The result is certainly a dramatic reset of traditional country songwriting. 

KB: We were originally trying to get Phil Collins out to the Stagecoach Festival in Coachella that I played. We were in the writer’s room the next day, and he was still on our minds, and the song just wrote itself. I haven’t had a chance to play it live yet, but we’re going to use it for a huge onstage production. It’s going to be amazing. I haven’t met Phil Collins, but hopefully if this song goes to N0. 1, I will get a chance to.

MC: What is it like playing Stagecoach? 

KB: It is so much fun. The first year I played at maybe 4:00 p.m. The second time was right before direct support, and this time I got to headline. It was the best feeling in the world. We also got the big screen right when they switched it from Coachella (Valley Music and Arts Festival), so I had even more reason to be excited. I remember showing up, and just seeing that huge LED wall which is what I love in production. When I saw that, I was ready to go. I had so many friends, and people I work with in the industry show up, it was surreal.

MC: Your most recent album, Different Man, begins and ends with songs about Georgia, your birth state. Why are there so many classic songs about Georgia?

KB: Georgia, of course, is my home. I would die for The Dawgs (the University of Georgia’s Bulldogs football team.) It’s beautiful place, with beautiful songs about it. I ain’t got much else to say, other than that.  

MC: Your song “Bury Me in Georgia” is a barnburner. The guitars on that track are like flame throwers. 

KB: Yes, that’s (producer-guitarist) Dann Huff for you. 

MC: We saw a self-effacing reference to your musical abilities, with the modest description that you play “Campfire guitar.”

KB: I’ve got your basic chords. When I was doing covers, I learned off of YouTube. It’s funny now when I see people covering my songs, and teaching others how to play them, so it’s a full circle moment. I’ve got your G-B-A-C-C minor… then I get to the bar chords and I give up. I’m not going to be a shredder, or the guy who is solo playing. I like to run across the stage. 

MC: As a co-writer, what do you bring to the collaborative environment?

KB: Songwriting is so difficult. Once you find your place, that’s what you’ll be good at. I look at myself as kind of like an A&R of the writer’s room. Sometimes I will bring the title. I used to do that more, much earlier in my career. Now when I come in, I know which people I work well with and which writers will work the best together.

MC: Can you tell us more about this selection process?

KB: It’s what I’m feeling. There are some writers who can do everything, and others who do sad ballads. So if I’m feeling depressed, I’m going to bring my guy Josh Hoge in.  I mean he can do everything—he’s on “Bury Me in Georgia”—but that’s his sweet spot. 

MC: You are also the artist who will personify the song onstage, and project its narrative.  

KB: If any writer is working with an artist, and you have an idea, and that artist isn’t loving it, move onto something else. I’m not afraid to say “no.” Not every artist will, but if I don’t like something, I’m going to tell them. And these are the people I write with. And they’ll say, “OK—let’s move on and find something else.” I also try to write songs that will most likely be singles. It’s pointless for me to write a song that’s just a cut, unless it’s a story song that’s going to touch people, regardless. But even those will go to radio. 

MC: Nashville writers have spoken to us about the concept of “Putting furniture in the room” in lyrics—creating tangible, visual impressions. 

KB: The more imagery the better: I just wrote a song the other day with the lines, “The floor is covered with shattered shards of glass.” I was real upset, and I got inspired; that’s why I wrote that lyric. I really try to just be different. A lot of songwriters are just saying the same thing. I heard a Morgan Wallen song that was about beer, which has been done many times in country, right? But the way this song, ”More Than My Hometown,” said it is, “I love you more than a California sunset/More than a beer when you ain’t 21 yet.” That’s what’s clever, and different; a new way of writing about something that others have written about before. 

MC: Your songs feel conversational and real—especially when the lyrical tone is darker. 

KB: I don’t always release those songs, because I love my marriage (laughs). But as an artist, you have to break out of the box, because within your group of fans not everyone is happy, and they will relate more to the sad songs. Everybody breaks down at some point. If you’re not singing about them, then you’re not appealing to them. The hardest part is writing a song, and not lying. If you sing a song with deep emotion, people are going to portray that song as you. 

MC: Your song “Grand” has songwriter Mike Posner in the writers’ credits. We think of him as a fascinating, and seemingly inexhaustible lyricist. 

KB: Yeah. He’s also one of the sweetest guys in the world, with great energy. Sometimes if you get in the room –especially with first writes – you can check out if you’re not into it. With Mike, there’s no checking out. Positive energy, nice guy, lots of lyrics, stays focused the whole time. You don’t see him picking up his phone, he’s always working. I love writing with him.

MC: Do you book blocks of time for writing songs?

KB: I have my own publishing company, Verse 2 Music, a joint venture with Sony Music Nashville. It’s Kent Earls and me. I brought him over with me from Universal (UMG). Kent is the head of all the writers, so he books their schedules and he books my schedule. Right now I’m trying to get an album out, so I am trying to write as much as possible. That’s when I will book my own schedule. I recently put a studio in my house, so I never have to leave home again. I have people come over all the time. 

MC: Which program do you use for recording, Logic or ProTools?

KB: We have both on the computer, but my preference is generally ProTools. 

MC: Do you have a live room?

KB: Yes sir.

MC: Neighbors don’t come banging on the door complaining about the noise?

KB: Nah, we’re pretty secluded. 

MC: We read that “I Love Country Music” was written at a writers’ retreat.

KB: We’ve been doing writers retreats here in Tennessee—but this time we went down to Florida. Writers’ retreats are when you get a bunch of writers that you work with a lot. You go out away from y’all’s house—no babies, no girlfriends, no wives, and no distractions, and you just write. We were on a lake when we wrote that one. 

MC: Different Man has 17 tracks—that’s a generous outpouring of music. 

KB: I forgot that’s how many songs are on that album. Mostly I was trying to make everything uptempo. I’ve tried to stay away from the slow songs. I look at my live shows, and think single-wise, and just try to write songs that are rocking as much as possible. Those are the hardest songs to write. We got a good amount on Different Man. I wish there were a couple more that were singles. 

MC: “Pop’s Last Name” is a beautiful sentiment

"I grew up without a father

He’s been locked up since ‘96

But there’s another man, he ain’t here no more

That raised me as a kid"

MC: Is it difficult to be that revealing within a song?

KB: I’m an open person. I will always tell others how I am feeling. If you upset me in any way, I can’t fake that smile. My face is going to show it. It really comes in my writing too. A lot of times I have even deeper lyrics. I have people who have to tell me, “I don’t know boss, that’s awful dark—that’s out there.” I don’t feel like it’s bad at all being vulnerable. 

MC: A line from the song says: “He said, ‘knowledge over power.’”

KB: he never really told me that, but I remember we didn’t have money, so he’d have to fix stuff. This is what I’ve learned since being an artist. I thought that line would be something he would say if he did have money. For me, coming from where I come from, and knowing what I knew, whenever I didn’t have money, I’d rather know how to fix something than have the money to pay someone else to do it. 

MC: On your 2023 “Drunk or Dreaming Tour,” you headlined Fenway Park in Boston, selling out all 37,755 seats in the venue. How do you maintain intimacy on that massive scale?

KB: I was so excited. The adrenaline was crazy. But when you get up there, you really only see the people in front of you, and the flashlights in the stands. It almost feels like a club. I know it sounds weird to say, but you don’t see how big the atmosphere is until I started walking the stadium and it was crazy. I’ve learned to go out and perform, and try to make everybody feel like I love ‘em, as much as I do, even though they are a baseball field away from me. 

MC: In the past you have told stories from your life as well, to keep the human elements in the show. Now you’ve this epic production and pyro happening. 

KB: Yes sir. I think that’s the hardest thing for me. It’s been two years since I switched to this big live performance thing as opposed to my storytelling. I’m really excited for this next tour. We finally got a B stage where I can do the intimate-type stories. I used to do a fan favorite that made everyone tear up called “For My Daughter.”

"They say history repeats itself

Well, I guess that’s up to me

Yeah, I grew up without a dad

I’m gonna be the best one I can be"

There were video projections of my family and me. I want to incorporate more of that into my show, rather than just the pyro and energy. 

MC: Do you work with a creative director on your live presentations?

KB: Yes. He’s been with me for six years now. His name is Alex Alvga. He also does my music videos. He’s super talented. 

MC: You now have a record label, 1021 Entertainment—a joint venture with Sony Music Nashville, and also the Sony-affiliated publishing company, Verse 2 that you mentioned. One of your signees to the publishing company is your co-writer Levon Grey. How did you meet him?

KB: I found him in Alabama. He did a couple of songs on social media, and tagged a couple of other artists along with me. I researched him, and reached out. He was writing all of these songs by himself. I said, “Man—if I get you in a room with me and a couple of other writers, I wonder what we could create?” I brought him in, did the A&R thing I was telling you about, and we wrote “One Mississippi” the very first time we ever wrote. 

MC: On Different Man, you assumed co-producer responsibilities. What does that expanded role entail?

KB: It’s just a little more paying attention. When I came in as a new artist, I used to go in with Dann Huff, give him the demos, and think that my job was done. “This is what I have, and I’m going to trust you to turn it into what it should be.” With this album I knew exactly what I wanted—I was going more into this show thing. I was telling Dann what I wanted. I could hear sounds. People ask me, “What do you listen to?” I literally don’t listen to any music other than what I am writing. The radio might be on every now and then, but other than that, I will listen to a song I wrote last week a thousand times—try to hear different sounds, and lyrics.  

MC: Clearly, with your success, more artists of color, and LGBTQ+ representation, country music is changing. 

KB: I think it’s wide open right now. Country music is changing like crazy. People said I was the frontrunner and I didn’t know how to take it. I’m glad that I’m not the only one now. I’m in my own kind of lane and I feel comfortable, but I didn’t feel that the first couple of years. 

MC: Your visual identity projects your music, and it’s all you. 

KB: You’ve got to be yourself. Coming in, I tried to be like everyone else. Growing up, I went to an all white school called Soddy-Daisy High School in Chattanooga. There were four colored kids in the school: Hispanic, Black, mixed. I was always in cowboy boots, all Bass Pro Shop. I’d go fishing, and we were mudding (off-road driving) everyday. 

MC: Was it to a country soundtrack?

KB: I’d listened to country music since I was a baby, because my mom loved it. I got back into country music around the time that Florida Georgia Line was hitting, so I got to experience all of that. I moved in with a roommate, and he was telling me that I had no swag, he’s like “Bro—you’ve got to be different. Swag out, and make people look at you.” I started doing that, and that’s when I went viral. People thought I was a rapper, and I stood out. 

Contact: Jennifer Vessio – 1220 Entertainment, jennifer.g.vessio@gmail.com 

Meg Kehoe – Sony Music Nashville,
Meghan.Kehoe@sonymusic.com

Quick Facts

• Kane Brown’s father claims African-American and Native American heritage. His mother is Caucasian. 

• One of Kane Browns classmates at Lakeview Middle School in Fort Oglethorpe, GA, was future country star Lauren Alaina. Breaking through as a first runner-up on American Idol, she encouraged Brown to audition for the show. He was rejected for sounding too much like Idol’s Scotty McCreary. 

• X Factor tried to put him in a boy band, which he declined. Instead, he did his own covers online. His cover of Lee Brice’s “I Don’t Dance” went viral, with 60K shares overnight. A version of George Strait’s “Check Yes or No,” captured seven million views. 

• Working for the home improvement store Lowes in Hixson, TN, Brown would sing in the aisles. His fellow red vest employees encouraged him to enter a talent show. He has since partnered with the store for the 100 Hometowns restoration project with the first recipient the local Boys & Girls Club. 

• His first six song EP, Closer, financing with Kickstarter crowd funding, hit the country charts and attracted major label interest. 

• Brown’s eponymous record-breaking debut album produced Diamond No. 1 hit “Heaven” and six-times Platinum No. 1 hit “What Ifs.” With his debut effort, Brown became the first artist in Billboard history to top all five country charts simultaneously.

• Working outside of the country idiom, Brown has collaborated with hitmakers like Khalid, H.E.R., Becky G and Marshmello.

• Kane Brown and his wife, singer-songwriter Katelyn Jae Brown, recorded a chart-topping duet “Thank God,” for Different Man. It became his 10th No. 1 single.

• Brown performed at NBC’s Christmas at Graceland—staged in December 2023 at Elvis’s Memphis home—featured with artists including John Legend, Post Malone, and Lana del Rey.  

• The first black artist to headline Fenway Park in Boston, Brown will return on his 2024 “In the Air” Tour.

Headlining coast-to-coast shows with her Joy’All Ball, joining the Beck and Phoenix Summer Odyssey tour, and in performances from Madison Square Garden to The Hollywood Bowl as a member of The Postal Service on their historic 20th anniversary tour with Death Cab for Cutie: With the release of her fifth solo record, Joy’All, Jenny Lewis is undeniably high-profile.  

From a show business family, Lewis successfully survived her extensive childhood acting career to first emerge musically with Rilo Kiley, a band whose pensive songs became touchstones for a coming-of-age generation in the new millennium. Her solo debut Rabbit Fur Coat (with The Watson Twins) cast her as a sympathetic chanteuse cloaked in vintage fashion, imbued with quirky, approachable cool. 

As the title might indicate, the Blue Note/Capitol release, Joy’All, helmed by Nashville producer Dave Cobb, is charmingly upbeat, in contrast to the paradoxical asides, existential truths, and new chapters of hard-won wisdom that are revealed within. 

Music Connection: Greetings, Jenny. It certainly seems as if there is a huge upswing in your media visibility at this moment.

Jenny Lewis: I think it’s just all happening at once. I’ve been in The Postal Service for 20 plus years. I’ve been doing my own music since 2006, and then I’ve been in a bunch of side projects. So, I’m always doing a couple of things at once, but the culmination of this 20-year anniversary tour with my album release so close by is definitely a lot. I hope people aren’t going to get sick of me—because I’m sick of myself! 

MC: When do you sleep?

JL: I sleep on a tour bus in the fetal position, with earplugs, a sleeping mask, and a night guard. It’s very cute. 

MC: You are featured on a new segment of the television show, Austin City Limits. It is so interesting how the songs from the latest record translate in a live context. “Love Feel,” for example, is a barnburner. 

JL: Austin City Limits is so cool, because you get to do your full show, 70 minutes, or whatever you’re playing on the road, and then you get to pick the songs for the edited segment. But they make you pick the songs as soon as you walk off of the stage. So, you’ve just done this incredible thing with multiple cameras and a live audience, and then they say, “Okay—pick the songs now.” So, in keeping with the album cycle, obviously the new ones are the most exciting, but that was my third performance on ACL, so I had to remember what I had played in 2014, and with Rilo Kiley. So, it’s kind of a stressful situation.

MC: You write by yourself, correct?

JL: I do. I have, in my career, also written with my boyfriends, who I have happened to be in bands with. My co-writing has been pretty much limited to within these relationships. I never have done co-writes with any other writers in Nashville, or artists.  For me, the most important thing has been finding my autonomy as an artist in the world, and honing in on my true voice. On this record, I really wanted it to be conversational. And going into the studio with Dave Cobb, talking about what we were going to make, I made it very clear to him that I wanted the vocals and the stories to be very present, as if we are having a conversation throughout the record. 

MC: Joy’All is so mellifluous, so when lyrics come in that are edgier, deeper, and darker, it’s an interesting contrast. There is a lot of air in the sound of the record, enhancing the vocal clarity. 

JL: It’s very sparse. We cut it live on the floor at RCA Studio A in Nashville. It is just incredible to be in that building, and we cut it to tape. Dave is a big fan of miking the drums Beatles’ style, and it was a very small band. After we cut it live, Dave wanted me to play all of the keys, and all of the other additional parts. So, he would hum something, and I would play it on the piano, or the Mellotron, which we used quite a bit. 

I think he wanted to keep it true to the demos that I had cut at home in Nashville on my iPhone, because I don’t have a computer, so I do everything in Garage Band. And then when we mixed the record I thought, “This is a Nashville record, I’d love to have some pedal steel, and some extra bits, frequency-wise.” So, we had Greg Leisz play pedal steel on a handful of songs, and then added Jon Brion, who shares a space with Greg Koller who mixed the record. I got to be in the studio with Jon as he was listening to the songs and finding those moments, like on “Apples & Oranges,” it’s a B-bender guitar.

MC: “Apples & Oranges” reminds us of Tommy James and the Shondells. 

JL: Oh wow, you picked up on that! We had a “Crimson and Clover” tremolo on pretty much the entire track. Initially, we went overboard, but it’s in there. So you are feeling that tremolo, but it’s more in the mix now. I’m a big Nuggets (historic ‘60s garage bands) fan. I love all that. I would love to make a record one day that is as rough sounding as some of those recordings. 

MC:  You are certainly candid in sharing what seem to be autobiographical elements in your songs. 

JL: I am creating a story. There is a twist in Rilo Kiley’s “Does He Love You.” That’s not a true story, but there are elements within the story that ring true. That song was inspired by “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” by Rupert Holmes. I wanted to write something with a twist in the last verse. Real life is interesting. I have had such an interesting 47 years on the planet: growing up in a musical family in Hollywood, in the Valley, a ton of family stuff went on, so it’s always been right there for me to channel and write about. I’m just trying to get it down on the page, because it keeps happening. It’s wild stuff!

MC: Having grown up in a show business family, one of the lessons you probably learned early was it is not all glamor and glitz. 

JL: In my family we were working class musicians, three generations of vaudeville performers, dancers, musicians; Las Vegas and Alaska lounge performers. My dad was in prison for a couple of years. He taught guitar to some of the guys up there. Music is the through-line in good times, prosperous times, and in tragic times. It’s always the music that has kept us together, and luckily I am a songwriter—the first songwriter in my family. So, I’ve been able to carve out a little spot for myself, because I am creating the material. But I come from covers, because my whole family would do them. And they were so good. But they didn’t write for some reason. That’s what differentiates me from the rest of my crew. 

MC: The process of writing the songs for Joy’All came from an online songwriting workshop. Tell us about it. 

JL: Part of the record was written during a songwriting workshop that Beck put together in 2021 during the pandemic, while we were still at home. I had about half of the songs for the record already written. The workshop included a very eclectic and awesome group of people.  Adam Green (Moldy Peaches), Sean Lennon, and Devendra Banhart who was there in the beginning. We would have prompts: write a song with 1-4-5 changes; write a song of all clichés—which is “Love Feel.”  The prompts would come, and we would write and record and send the song to the group a day at a time. It’s not something that I had ever done before. I write from this magical channeling zone. You don’t know where it comes from, and then a year later you are like, “Oh, that’s what that song is about.” Writing with prompts, you will never run out of things to write about. 

MC: Songwriters will talk about sometimes channeling lyrics and melodies that seem pre-existent. 

JL: There are different ways to it. Some people sit down every day to write. I imagine Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie, The Postal Service) is very regimented with his schedule in writing. I’m writing every day, but it’s a little more freeform; not sitting down, but I’m out in the world where something will occur to me, and I’ll grab my voice notes, and go back home and figure it out on piano or guitar.  

MC: Do these fragments then become the centers of songs?

JL: For the most part, a feeling or an idea, or I will be jamming in my music room. I have this drum machine that J.J. Cale used on his records, so I might hit that, and I’ll have my guitar or bass, pick a key, and then something will come out of that. I will typically carve it into existence over a period of time. But sometimes songs arrive fully formed like “Just One of the Guys,” from The Voyager. That one just arrived, and I don’t know how it happened. Then the homework comes. I am always editing up until I record the song. And I’ll record it on my phone and work on the lyrics as I’m overdubbing drums, bass, and keys. I will do everything, and the lyrics come out of the production, as I’m figuring it out. Once I am going in the studio I will continue to edit the lyrics until the day of— moment of, occasionally.

MC: We think of the meaning of words versus the sound of words. We like the use of the word “ruminate,” in the line from “A Puppy and a Truck” that says “…Time to ruminate/What the fuck was that?”

JL: (Laughs) If there is a word for the pandemic, it would probably be “ruminate.” I spent March to October 2020 at my house in California, until I took a flight to Nashville that fall. I took it very seriously, and in some ways it was very good for me. I was totally alone. I had nothing on the books for the first time since I was a kid. When you are a performer, there is always this underlying anxiety. If you have a show coming up, it’s just part of the gig.  So, all of that went away. For the first time in my life, I felt totally free. Obviously, I was scared, and experiencing everything everybody else was, but I felt off the hook.

MC: For some, it was a good excuse to grow a beard. I bet you didn’t.

JL: I didn’t grow a beard, but I grew two marijuana plants that were, like, six feet tall. I grew them legally! They were beautiful. I did it totally on my own. Grew, trimmed, cured, jarred…it was absolutely incredible. 

MC: And you acquired a dog, Bobby Rhubarb, immortalized in your song “A Puppy and a Truck.”

JL: I was never able to have a dog before. I’ve been on the road for 26 years, out there playing music, so my real life has definitely taken a back seat.  Having a couple of years at home and being able to take care of an animal like that has changed me in such an amazing way. And I’ve become a bit of a stage mom, as is the family tradition. So Bobby Rhubarb has an Instagram account, and when we go out in the world some people say, “Oh look! It’s Bobby Rhubarb!”

MC: The song “A Puppy and a Truck” is so likeable. 

JL:  Thank you. I was very dear friends with Jimmy Buffett and his family. I was so lucky to be able to spend time with them, and learn how to be off the road. Jimmy had two dogs, they were with him everywhere, and there was this joy for life. And if you are hanging out with the Buffetts, you are getting in the water, even if you don’t want to. I’m not a beachy or boaty person, but they were like, “Get in the water Lewis,” and the dogs were there. Jimmy inspired “A Puppy and a Truck”. We miss him so much. 

MC: You reference the late Nashville artist from the early ‘60s, Skeeter Davis, as an influence on Joy’All. She is an artist who is sometimes underestimated. 

JL: We know her songs, but we don’t know it’s her singing them. What a great songwriter. I made the record and I was doing the album cover photo shoot at my house in Nashville with my friend Momma Hotdog—Bobbi Rich—and we went into this vintage store to look for something for me to wear. On the wall of this place called Black Shag Vintage was a green and white striped suit. We pulled it down, and it said it had belonged to Skeeter Davis. The reference for the album cover was a classic Skeeter Davis photo, and I’m wearing her costume on the cover of Joy’All. There are these signs from the universe that you’re on the right path. If you pay attention, they are there. 

MC: You toured with Harry Styles—what an interesting pairing. 

JL: It was the first show out of the pandemic that I did in the fall of 2021. I was terrified. I was vaccinated, but I am asthmatic. There were a lot of emotions. Harry picked me to open the tour—it wasn’t a business thing. It was everyone’s first shows back. The crowds were so loving, and so open, and beautiful, and sparkly with feather boas—a beautiful way to come back to playing music and a massive undertaking. I had never done a tour this big, but it felt intimate because we were in our bubbles. There was no press, no one backstage, and we didn’t eat in restaurants. So it was like the biggest indie tour that ever existed. It felt DIY, although it was massive. 

MC: A question based on your lyrics from the title song, “Joy’All.” Do we all get a little bit wiser every day?

JL: I think we do. That’s the paradox of being a human being—we are getting wiser but our bodies are deteriorating. You come into the world so innocent, but the older you get, you learn a little more. Hopefully, you learn to be more compassionate—especially to be more compassionate with yourself, which is so important.  

MC: Your astrological sign is Capricorn. Do you like to plan?

JL: I’m a Capricorn, so I’m climbing the mountain steadily, slowly but surely. As a kid, I used to make these handmade calendars. I couldn’t wait until the end of the school year. I am a planner by nature, but I’ve been doing a meditation practice since the first of the year, so I am trying to be more in the moment. With my schedule, I am forced to plan about three days in advance. I’m trying to enjoy the day, the moment, and the hour. 

Onstage, especially doing this tour with The Postal Service, we played three sold out shows at the Hollywood Bowl. And there were a couple of moments where I just had to say, “Take all this in right now. Take a breath and look out, because this is as wonderful as it gets. This may not happen again. Be present in the moment. Be grateful.” I looked out, and I wasn’t nervous at all. 18,000 people out there, and I felt so connected to L.A., so connected to 20 years of this record, and my other records. It’s important to be in the moment, and appreciate these beautiful times. 

JL: I think we do. That’s the paradox of being a human being—we are getting wiser but our bodies are deteriorating. You come into the world so innocent, but the older you get, you learn a little more. Hopefully, you learn to be more compassionate—especially to be more compassionate with yourself, which is so important.  

MC: Your astrological sign is Capricorn. Do you like to plan?

JL: I’m a Capricorn, so I’m climbing the mountain steadily, slowly but surely. As a kid, I used to make these handmade calendars. I couldn’t wait until the end of the school year. I am a planner by nature, but I’ve been doing a meditation practice since the first of the year, so I am trying to be more in the moment. With my schedule, I am forced to plan about three days in advance. I’m trying to enjoy the day, the moment, and the hour. 

Onstage, especially doing this tour with The Postal Service, we played three sold out shows at the Hollywood Bowl. And there were a couple of moments where I just had to say, “Take all this in right now. Take a breath and look out, because this is as wonderful as it gets. This may not happen again. Be present in the moment. Be grateful.” I looked out, and I wasn’t nervous at all. 18,000 people out there, and I felt so connected to L.A., so connected to 20 years of this record, and my other records. It’s important to be in the moment, and appreciate these beautiful times. 

Contact Jillian Condran, jillian@nastylittleman.com

Quick Facts

•The song “Psychos” from Joy’All became the first Jenny Lewis song to hit No. 1 on the Adult Alternative Airplay chart. 

•The Jenny Lewis touring band is currently comprised entirely of female musicians. 

•As an actress, Lewis appeared in over a dozen teen movies, including Troop Beverly Hills. Cast in a multitude of episodic television guest spots, she also played Lucille Ball’s granddaughter in the short run of the Life With Lucy sitcom.

•Her 2014 full-length The Voyager was an emotional compendium influenced by Rilo Kiley’s demise, and the death of her father, Eddie Gordon. 

•Among Lewis’ past side projects was the duo Jenny & Johnny, with Johnathan Rice, with whom she shared a 12-year relationship. 

•Following her breakup with Rice, Lewis shared an apartment in New York with Annie Clark, aka St. Vincent. With friend Tennessee Thomas and Erika Foster, she performed as Nice As Fuck, and released a one-off collection in 2016.

•Also in 2016, Lewis flew to Haiti with Jackson Browne, to join a cast of global musicians in a benefit project called Let The Rhythm Lead: Haiti Song Summit, Vol.1. In her song “Under The Supermoon,” Lewis finds solace from the world’s problems among her new Haitian friends. She performed the song with Browne and Malian vocalist Habib Coite’.

•A line in “Under The Supermoon” chronicles her reaction to the 2016 Presidential election with this couplet: “I’ve never had such a fright/I gasped on election night.” 

•Past Lewis recordings have enlisted illustrious players like Ringo Starr, Jim Keltner, and Benmont Tench from The Heartbreakers. 

•The video for “Puppy and a Truck” includes a character wearing a dog suit. As he removes the dog head in the concluding shot, the character is revealed to be Harry Styles.

A tough talking trailblazer, a tequila-tippling Texan, and a remarkable storyteller with a repertoire of indelible songs. As the most awarded artist in the Academy of Country Music’s history—with 37 honors including this year’s Entertainer of the Year title—Miranda Lambert commands a towering career pinnacle. 

Lambert’s latest release, Palomino, honors her history, weaving classic country influences into an artistry that is tough, tender, and granular, with ties to both small town rural roots and an allegiance to the enduring legacy of her home state’s legendary singer-songwriters. 

On this morning, Miranda Lambert is in Nashville after her inaugural Las Vegas residency. In this exclusive Music Connection interview, she’s ready to talk about music. 

Music Connection: You recently introduced “Miranda Lambert: Velvet Rodeo The Las Vegas Residency,” at Zappos Theater at Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino with tickets now on sale for Spring 2023. How do you translate the intimacy of your presentation to a cavernous Las Vegas showroom?

Miranda Lambert: I like the fact that every seat is a good seat, and it is intimate, because it’s a theater. The fact that it’s a stationary show, where we don’t have to move our stuff every night with the trucks and travel to the next city allows us to have so much more production that we’ve ever had before. The cross between a big production and everyone able to see is a successful juxtaposition. And my jacket catches on fire, which is pretty damn cool.

MC: In looking at the set list, it is an encompassing soundtrack to an almost 20-year career. How did you curate the repertoire?

Lambert: We spent a lot of time on the song selection. It’s what started the whole thing. We didn’t do any design or production until we honed in on the set list. My musical director, Danny Mitchell, went through my whole catalog. Our biggest question was how do we get from “Kerosene” to Palomino? I wanted to have some nostalgia, and have some video elements, as well. Those videos really were such a part of the songs, like “Kerosene” for instance.

MC: You go back to a song that you famously covered, the poignant “The House That Built Me,” written by Tom Douglas and Allen Shamblin.

Lambert: I got lucky enough that it landed around me, and I could catch it and hold it close, because it’s one of the most special songs that I have ever heard in my life. I don’t take it lightly. I wanted to make sure that I executed it perfectly, because that song deserves it. It’s all of our stories. 

MC: Speaking of Palomino, the song “Carousel” is an emotional standout, with a narrative about a faded circus performer. How does it fit into the Velvet Rodeo presentation?

Lambert: It’s a huge moment in the show. It’s not stripped down, but it’s more dramatic because of lighting and production. Sometimes it’s hard to get through. Being a writer on it, I’m still so in it and so wrapped up in the story every time I sing it. And it’s heartbreaking. Singing it every night, I want to make sure that I’m getting the story across. I sing as close to the mic as I can, and we use the tricks of the trade with the lighting and everything. That’s something I appreciate about the Las Vegas setting. You can highlight lyrics more because you’re indoors and it’s controlled. For a song like that, it’s really cool to set it up and make the production a part of the story. 

MC: The songs on Palomino are character- and locale-driven. How were these tales conceived?

Lambert: I started writing the songs in 2020. We spent a lot of time developing these characters and these stories. It’s not a concept record, but it’s definitely got a thread. I spent a lot of my writing career writing about personal experiences, or those of people close to me, and this is one that was like “Let’s go out of ourselves and find some cool places and some cool people that we can make up.”

MC: Country is certainly the bedrock of Palomino, but we can hear soul, gospel, blues and Southern rock added to the mix.

Lambert: I pulled a little bit more from other influences, more than I have in the past. Linda Ronstadt and ZZ Top—trying to get those coming in.  

MC: How does Linda Ronstadt influence you?

Lambert: Watching her documentary, she was so committed. “I had to sing this song or I would just die.” She meant it, with that fire inside her eyes. I want that commitment, that crazy passion for something, even just a tenth of what she had. The skillfulness and the longevity of her career are very inspiring to me. 

MC: We hear a lot of new voices in country music, with African American artists, LGBTQ folks, and others who might not have been included a decade ago. Is this a trend determined by the times?

Lambert: I think it’s just how it falls. It’s probably always been that way, but we’re seeing more of it now. I see this new crop of what I call kids come up, and I’m excited, because there are a lot of different sounds. We survived the Bro Country era, which makes me happy that it’s over. It was a stagnant time for me.

MC: On a track from Palomino, the famous party band The B-52’s join you on a song about a riverboat, “Music City Queen.” How did this come about?

Lambert: We went for it! We were at my farm writing with Natalie Hemby and Luke Dick. Natalie was singing the “rolling down the river,” and Luke said, “What if we had the B-52s on this song?” And I was like, “Oh my God! That would be epic.” I called my manager and said, “I don’t know if you know this band, or what they’re doing, or even if they are doing anything at the moment, but can we get ahold of them and see if they’d be interested?” They were all in different places, Atlanta, California, New York. So, they Zoomed with Jon Randall and Luke to get their parts down at studios across the country.

MC: You often reference music that was made before your time. 

Lambert: I think I was born a little late, from the music that I’m drawn to, and that I enjoy. There didn’t used to be genres. There was Creedence Clearwater Revival and Lynyrd Skynyrd, all on the same radio stations. I love modern music, but I love old music—it’s what I gravitate to when I’m listening in my car: old country, old anything. But I’m in it. I hope that 30 years from now someone feels that way about my music. I want that nostalgia for people who listen to me. I think I pull from that stuff. It stuck out to me, because it mattered to me. 

MC: What other historic music made an impact?

Lambert: I sing as a male character in “If I Were a Cowboy.” I got that from Emmylou Harris, who would never change the genders. And John Prine with “Angel From Montgomery,” when he assumed the character of an old woman. I love that it doesn’t have to change. Once I heard Emmy do it, I thought I could change the rules. Emmylou’s is a career that I have longed for. I said from day one, “I want to be a singer-songwriter, and I want to have a long career and to make a mark on country music.” 

MC: Your home state of Texas is famous for introducing notable songwriters, Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle, and Rodney Crowell among them. What is it about the culture that gives us so many phenomenal storytellers?’

Lambert: We do grow a different crop there. I’m happy to be one of them. There’s such a nurturing music scene. Starting out there, you can have a whole career there without ever leaving the state. It’s so vast and so huge. There is always an audience, and always somewhere to play. Growing up, as a budding want-to-be- songwriter back in the day, there were so many opportunities, and so many places that help grow artists. I think that culture is why so many of us come from there. 

MC: And such great sounding names for titles and lyric: Amarillo, Luckenbach, El Paso, San Antonio, Abilene, Laredo.

Lambert: You could write 20 records and never run out of towns!

MC: Speaking of Texas, Palomino was preceded by The Marfa Tapes, an around the campfire project from 2021 that joined you with Jack Ingram and Jon Randall in a stripped down, low-fi collaboration.  

Lambert: That’s one of my favorite projects I’ve ever worked on. It was so organic, the way it came together, Jack, Jon, and I spent seven years writing songs, and they are such great friends of mine. Two Septembers ago, it was like “So what are we going to do with these songs? They are just sitting there, and they will never see the light of day.” We just had the harebrained idea to record them and put them out recorded in one take on one microphone. Once we got into it, it was a lot more in depth than I thought emotionally. We had lived with these songs for so long, and I was just happy to put them down in a recording.

MC: It was also captured visually as a documentary. 

Lambert: We had a videographer there to get some B-roll, I thought. Spencer Peeples made this beautiful film. So, a film and a double record: we didn’t know what we were getting into. It’s one of my favorite things. There is nowhere to hide. And it’s not every day that the fans get to hear the actual way that the song starts, and how raw and how scary that can be. I will always say forever that this is one of my favorite things that I have ever been a part of. 

MC: A couple of the songs from The Marfa Tapes are recast with bigger productions on Palomino. “Waxahachie” opens with a line that says “Nobody ever left New Orleans as mad as I was / I wrote a lipstick letter on the mirror with a bourbon buzz.” What an introduction to the story. 

Lambert: I feel like that, too—it sets the whole scene. You know so much about this girl before you hear another word. It also comes from three Texans sitting around a fire in West Texas. We pretty much write about where we’re from because we’re proud of it. That’s number one. We have it all in common. But it’s not just about Texas; it’s about rural life. And that’s what country music is. To me, the first line in a song is one of the most important, because you’ve got to set it up. I want to write some of those first lines that make you want to start over listening because you weren’t paying enough attention and you don’t want to miss part of the story. 

MC: Do you have a songwriting superpower?

Lambert: I’m definitely not a bridge writer—I run from the bridge—I think we all do. Whoever gets the short end of the straw has to deal with it. Titles are a part of it. Bringing the country, down-to-earth way of putting things. You can get all fancy and have dollar words, but I’ll throw in an “ain’t” and it changes the sentence, and it feels like me. 

MC: You wrote “Geraldene” with Jack Ingram and Jon Randall, and we first heard it on The Marfa Tapes. On Palomino it reappears with full production.  

Lambert: I had that title on my phone for a long time. I watched the movie The Last Waltz 100 times, and I watched the documentary Heartworn Highways 100 times, and I tried to gather new things from those two every time I watch them. In Heartworn Highways, Townes Van Zandt is introducing a dog, and he says, “This is my dog Geraldene,” and I thought it was such a cool name, and I wrote it in my phone. When Jack and Jon and I were together in Marfa we just pulled from the air, or whatever was going on, and whatever some of us had written down, whether it was weird or not. “Geraldene” popped up, and they were like “ooh, who is she?” And I was like “I don’t know.” 

MC: Pistol Annies is a trio that enjoins you with Ashley Monroe, and Angaleena Presley. Your Interstate Gospel was nominated for a Grammy and Hell of a Holiday has both original songs and covers. 

Lambert: Pistol Annies is another passion project—we’ve been together for 11 years, which is crazy to think about. Making music with my friends is where all of this starts. How lucky am I that some of my best friends are the greatest songwriters that I know? Why not do that together? With Jon and Jack or Natalie Hemby, Pistol Annies, they are all like family to me.

MC:  How is the dynamic different when writing with women?

Lambert: It’s two different perspectives. I couldn’t have written the Pistol Annies records with Jon Randall and Luke Dick, and I probably couldn’t have written The Marfa Tapes with those girls. It’s the chemistry, the stories and the background, and how that chemistry makes you react to each other when you get into a room. 

MC: Where do you write?

Lambert: My manager has a really cool basement that I use, or music rooms at Universal. But I do a lot of writing outside. With The Marfa Tapes it was pretty much all done outside. With Palomino a lot of that was done on a porch at my farm, Pistol Annies, all of Interstate Gospel was done on a porch at my farm, and a bunch of writing for that project was also in the Smokey Mountains. I prefer to be outside all of the time. It feels like a wide-open space, so there’s a wide-open space on the page. So that’s where I do my best writing. 

Contact Ebie McFarland, ebie@ebmediapr.com

Photos by Robert Ascroft for Fourlevin agency

No stranger to the Grammy podium, FINNEAS previously clutched six statuettes at the 63rd Annual Awards, when, at 22, his peers voted him the youngest ever honoree for Producer of the Year, Non-Classical. Last year, two additional Grammys were bestowed with Eilish’s “Everything I Wanted” named Record of the Year, and “No Time To Die” from the James Bond film of the same name taking Best Song Written for Visual Media. 

In 2017, prior to the release of her Grammy-winning full-length debut When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? MC interviewed Billie Eilish for an exclusive cover story. That same year, we featured a Song Biz Profile with FINNEAS, as we chronicled the remarkable Cinderella tale of the spectacularly successful siblings from Highland Park, Los Angeles. 

Branching out as a producer and a songwriter, FINNEAS has blossomed with a prolific string of projects for artists including Camila Cabello, Tove Lo, Kid Cudi, and Ben Platt—plus collaborations with Ashe and Ringo Starr. 

At 24, although much has changed in the world of FINNEAS, his humanity, humility, and clear-eyed devotion to music remains resolutely intact.

Music Connection: As we observe the many styles of producers who historically have made a massive pop impact, there are those who are identifiable with distinctive trademarks. What we note from your production is transparency, allowing the artist to shine through. 

FINNEAS: I’m honored that you would say that. My utmost goal and fantasy is that you’re listening to some record and you say. “This is my favorite album ever—who produced this?” And you look it up and it would be me. And then you would listen to a completely different genre of music and go “Wow. I love this album too, who produced this?” And it would also be me. I’d love to have a sound that is unrecognizable and doesn’t shroud the artist. I would like to make music for artists that is consistently good, but doesn’t have much of my fingerprint on it. 

MC: Historically, pop music producers who are tied to specific eras and genres have briefer shelf lives. 

FINNEAS: That’s part of the reason I care about it so much. The producers I loved growing up, those that lasted the longest, were like chameleons. The producers who were great but had signature sounds often had short, spectacular careers. 

MC: Who did you listen to production-wise as you developed your approach? 

FINNEAS: As a young kid it was Butch Vig and Rob Cavallo. I was a big fan of the Max Martin ethos. Also, Ludwig Göransson from his work with Childish Gambino, plus Pharrell and Timbaland. 

MC: You came up recording in a bedroom in Highland Park where you created massive hits on consumer grade equipment. 

FINNEAS: I’m now consumer grade for another reason—the speed. The easiest equipment to use is often the fastest. I’m trying to articulate my idea in the quickest way possible. If I turn on a microphone and have to wait 15 minutes for the tube to heat up, or turn on a preamp and dial it in, I’m already bored. I’d rather just turn it on and get the idea down. 

MC: What program are you using for recording? 

FINNEAS: Logic Pro, which has only just gotten better over the years. It has unbelievably improved from the day I started using it. The new sampler engines and the drum machine designs are so incredible. I use ATH-M50X headphones by Audio-Technica, also consumer grade. I listen to a lot of music on AirPods. 

MC: You’ve built a studio in your new home in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, correct? 

FINNEAS: What I actually did was: I made a room sound really good. I had to do sound treatment. The room in Los Feliz didn’t sound as good as my childhood bedroom, which sounded really good. There was enough stuff: sheets, bookshelves full of books, and a bed. It was nice and quiet and I was trying to replicate that. I don’t have a Neve console, or an isolation booth or anything like that. 

MC: On your new project, Optimist, the preceding singles and the EP Blood Harmony, you produce yourself. How do you divorce the artist from the producer, or do you? 

FINNEAS:  Good question. I feel like as a producer I’m listening to myself as an artist, a songwriter, and a singer. I’m seeing what makes the most sense, and what is the most believable, and what feels the most authentic. I’ve been able to make some really cool productions for Billie, for Tove Lo, Selena Gomez, Camila Cabello, and those are artists are authentically themselves. And if I tried to do what those artists do, you’d think I was playing pretend. I rely on my own sensibilities as to what feels genuine as an artist for me.

MC: One of your sonic trademarks with Billie is that somewhere on the track there is a sound almost like a ticking. What does that represent? 

FINNEAS: I think it’s a tendency of mine to give things a heartbeat—the ticking could be a high noise or a sub bass that’s undulating. I like to have a forward motion component in music that’s not a kick drum and a snare drum and a high hat, something that’s unorthodox and surprising. 

MC: One of the trademarks of Billie’s work, and also something we hear on Optimist, is a hushed vocal tone, very soft and intimate. What are your criteria for making something sound small, as opposed to huge? 

FINNEAS: I think it all comes down to the song, but intimacy makes the scope and size of large things even larger. Dynamics are reliant on the dynamics—if that makes sense. So, if you have an album that’s all at a 10, how can you have an 11? But if you have one that goes from one to five and then back again, when it goes to 10 it feels enormous. 

MC: Speaking of size, when we look at the Grammy nominated projects, there are immense lists of songwriters and producers. When we see the listings of collaborators for you and Billie, it’s essentially just the two of you, plus mixing and mastering personnel. 

FINNEAS: Isn’t that cool? But I’m in the army of people who made the Justin Bieber album Justice. I’m lucky to be there too. I don’t think there’s a right way or a wrong way to make an album. 

MC: The Justin Bieber song on which you collaborated, “Lonely,” really captures the disconnecting vibe of celebrity. Benny Blanco is a major contributor as well. 

FINNEAS: That song would not exist without Benny Blanco. Benny has a long history with Justin, and he has done several of Justin’s best songs, in my opinion. Benny and I are close. At some point he suggested that we write something for Justin. This was at the end of 2019 or the beginning of 2020. We talked about how incredibly isolating it would be to occupy a place where Justin is, a place of experiencing something that no one else has gone through. Being a one of one. Most of life, and most of empathy is based on our common ground, our common experiences. Very few people have experienced the life that Justin has. I adore Benny and we’ve now written a lot more stuff. 

MC: In certain historic styles of pop music—especially Motown—every instrument was formulated as its own hook. Many of your productions also have multiple instrumental hooks, as well. 

FINNEAS:  As a producer I’m trying not to get lost in the minutia of something until that’s all that’s left. My worst fear is that I’ve overlooked a mediocre song and mediocre vocal and I’m spending six hours worrying about the sound of the kick drum. Everything else has to be in place and substantive and of quality—then I’ll worry about the kick drum. From an instrumental component I care a lot about it. But I want everything else to be perfect. 

MC: Seemingly the line between songwriting and production is a bit blurry for many writer-producers. Do you see a separation? 

FINNEAS: I started writing songs in a pure melody-chords-lyrics fashion, because I had no experience in production. I graduated to producing the songs after I’d written them. I do find it helpful to produce songs a little bit when I’m writing. It will help inform more rhythmic lyrics and melodies. I’m reluctant to produce a beautiful instrumental and then write a mediocre song over it. I’d rather make sure I’ve written something really good and then worry about the instrumental. 

MC: One of your trademarks as a producer is placing acoustic instruments in the center of the sound. On one of your new solo songs, “A Concert Six Months From Now,” the guitar has a street busking tone. 

FINNEAS: I love the simplicity—the way a piano sounds, an acoustic guitar, and I love them when they are paired with surprising elements. That to me is an exciting marriage: a traditional element with this shocking thing. 

MC: We read a quote from you that we will paraphrase: You noted that music that becomes enormously successful generally doesn’t sound like anything else. 

FINNEAS: I think that’s true. The exception to that rule is the greatest songs. A magnificent piano ballad will become big because it’s terrific—it doesn’t matter that we’ve heard a million of them. When “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi blew up, I was thrilled. 

MC: You made Grammy-winning albums in your bedroom, and you now work primarily at home. Do you also work in conventional studios?

FINNEAS: I’ve been in all the great ones in L.A. at least once. What I like to do is to be where artists are their most comfortable. Sometimes an artist is locked into Conway Recording Studios for a month straight, and I’ll go there to work with them. I’m the most comfortable here at my house; Billie is her most comfortable when we’re at home together. So that’s where we stick to working. If I’m working with someone I don’t know as well, maybe we’re working together for the first or second time in the studio, a separate location is a plus. They’re not in your house or you’re not in their house. I don’t make anything better in studios, but sometimes it’s nice to work in a place that isn’t your own bedroom. 

MC: Happier Than Ever, Billie’s latest album, was created during the pandemic lockdown. You were on a regular creative schedule, correct? 

FINNEAS: Yes, we worked three days a week. That’s how we made the album. It was our mom’s idea, and so smart. When she suggested it, we were like “No!” But we tried it out and made the song “My Future” immediately. 

MC: When you are producing vocals for other artists, do you ever have to be a psychologist? 

FINNEAS: Sometimes. You have to make the artist feel safe. Otherwise, no one is going to do their best work. We aren’t as vulnerable around our closest friends as we need to be around our creative collaborators. We need to be really vulnerable—I mean therapist vulnerable. And that can be a challenge. 

MC: Do you ever have to challenge a vocalist? 

FINNEAS: I hope I’m challenging a vocalist every time in terms of making sure that I’m holding them to the highest standard. I feel like it should be a goal to make someone do the best they’ve ever done. To me it’s about inspiring an artist to challenge themselves rather than make them feel like I’m pushing them. 

MC: What mics are you using for vocals? And what is Little Altar Boy? 

FINNEAS: I spent years with a Neumann TLM 103, now I use a Telefunken 251 for Billie, and a Chandler REDD for myself and with others. Little Altar Boy is an amazing plugin made by Sound Toys. It can be used on anything, but I primarily use it on vocals. It’s a processor that shifts pitch and tone and can distort sounds. 

MC: Are there other new instruments or effects in your arsenal? 

FINNEAS: I use a synthesizer called an Ace Tone TOP-6, an old Japanese synth that I bought from Custom Vintage Keyboards that has a great sub bass. 

MC: You play guitar, keyboards, and other instruments on stage and in the studio. Do you consider yourself an accomplished instrumentalist? 

FINNEAS: I don’t feel super-qualified. I don’t think I could rip a solo. I can offer support. I can pick something up and be musical with it, but I’m not virtuosic. 

MC: In concerts with Billie, you are often performing on bass. It makes the overall sound more organic. 

FINNEAS: Bass to me is the thing that goes the best with vocals, they don’t infringe with each other. I play guitar and keys onstage with Billie, but my favorite thing is bass. I use a Fender Mustang—it’s got a “subbier” tone and a short scale neck, which fits me better. I’m six feet tall...bassists are all six foot five! 

MC: When you were presented with one of your many Grammy Awards, you dedicated it to the kids who are making music in their bedrooms—what you did at your folks’ house here in Highland Park. 

FINNEAS:  I definitely felt empowered. Now it’s par for the course. Everyone is making music at home. 

 alexandra@highrisepr.com

The sole owner of Realsongs, a hugely successful publishing company that occupies a historic building in Hollywood, she still maintains her legendarily cluttered writing room nearby, dubbed “The Cave.” This shambolic enclave gives title to her first-ever studio album, The Cave Sessions Vol. 1, from Di-Namic Records/BMG. The project features a repertoire of Warren’s songs performed by an eclectic cast of notable artists ranging from John Legend to Luis Fonsi; Ty Dolla$ to Celine Dion. 

In 2021, Warren’s lyrics and melodies continue to be interpreted by the most distinctive voices in music. In this exclusive interview, MC speaks with the expressively candid songwriter about how she matched songs with artists on her latest project, her 12 Academy Award nominations, how she stays current, and her mission of saving cows from the slaughterhouse.

Music Connection: We have a new definition of Diane Warren. With The Cave Sessions Vol. 1, you are not only the songwriter but also now a musical casting director. How did this project come about, and why at this particular moment in time?

Diane Warren: I had been thinking about something that DJ/producers like DJ Khaled, Mark Ronson, David Guetta, Kygo and Calvin Harris do, they curate albums of songs and artists. I thought, “A songwriter hasn’t done that? Why can’t it be me?” I have always been a songwriter in all genres. I thought what a cool thing to do, to take a group of songs I love and cast them––maybe throw some things into the mix that are weird, in different combinations. It’s like a “Greatest Hits Album to Be.” I wanted everything to sound like a single.

MC: Unreleased songs languishing unreleased in the vault were also an impetus, correct?

Warren: I had one song John Legend did called “Where is Your Heart.” It was so frustrating. He did the song and he said he was going to use it, and I’d give it to other artists and I’d tell him, but he kept saying he was going to release it, but he never did. Anyone who hears that song and his voice can’t help but be blown away. It’s him at the piano singing his heart out. 

MC: The combinations you put together are unexpected. Jon Batiste and Pentatonix come together on “Sweet.”

Warren: My dentist introduced me to Pentatonix. I ran into Jon Batiste at the Oscars––he had his first nomination and won (Original Score for Soul). I had my 12th and I lost. I had just written “Sweet” to do with Pentatonix. There needs to be some joy in the world. 

MC: “Seaside,” with Rita Ora, Sofia Reyes and Reik, is a summer song in the tradition of “Under the Boardwalk.” 

Warren: Yes. If you can’t get to the seaside, we’ll bring the seaside to you. Growing up, my favorite songs would transport me. That’s what the song does––you can be in a traffic jam and close your eyes, as the lyrics say. 

MC: Somehow, we can’t imagine Diane Warren luxuriating on the sand. 

Warren: The few times I have, I was done after 10 minutes. I’m not a “lay at the beach” person, but I love the ocean. In the song “Under the Boardwalk” there’s a line, “You can almost taste the hotdogs and French fries they sell.” When someone hears “Seaside” they will taste the margarita. 

MC: You include a number of Latin artists on the collection. You have worked extensively with major artists in this genre. 

Warren: I’ve always been in Latin music. My first hit was “Rhythm of the Night” by DeBarge. “Show Me the Way Back to Your Heart,” and other songs for Gloria Estefan, “Could I Have This Kiss Forever,” a collaboration with Enrique Iglesias and Whitney Houston, “Walk Away,” Little Louie Vega and Marc Anthony. It’s just natural. What I love about Latin music is that there are so many great singers and melodies. 

MC: Speaking of great singers: Celine Dion, for whom you famously wrote, “Because You Loved Me,” appears with an atypical sentiment and sound on the current collection. 

Warren: With “Superwoman” I wanted to do something unexpected with Celine. I love big ballads, but “Superwoman” is more soulful. There is a soul singer in there––I tapped into that with Celine. 

MC: The first song we heard from the project was “She’s Fire,” with G-Eazy and the unmistakable guitar of Carlos Santana. Had you worked with either artist before? 

Warren: This was a first. I don’t usually write an instrumental in the song, but I did, thinking of Santana. I didn’t know him, but we have a mutual friend, (writer-producer) Narada Michael Walden, who gave me his manager’s number. When I reached out, Carlos sent me flowers. Then he put his guitar on it. It was just fucking amazing. As a guitarist he’s like a singer––one note and you know it’s him. 

MC: G-Eazy was an inspired collaborator for the track. 

Warren: I wanted someone contemporary, like the choice Clive Davis made with Rob Thomas on “Smooth” back in the day with Santana’s Supernatural. My friend Holly told me I needed to work with G-Eazy. The song needed swag. I texted him and before he even heard it he said yes. I think it was because of Carlos! He has a studio in his house. G-Eazy worked hard with a vocal coach, but a lot of what he did on the track he did on his own that first day, on a first take. He also wrote the rap on the song. I will always go with something that’s not perfect as long as it feels right. He and Carlos are both from the Bay Area, two different worlds that make this other world. I’m in the video as a bartender, and I don’t even drink. 

MC: While it’s not specifically stated, “Times Like This,” recorded by Darius Rucker, is a powerful statement in this pandemic year. 

Warren: I wrote it at the beginning of the pandemic. One of the only good things about these times is that so many artists are available because no one is on the road. The song speaks to what’s going on. A lot of people are having tough times. I went to Nashville one time and I saw a guy with a sign that said, “I’m not going to lie, I need money for beer.” So I put that in the song. 

MC: We screened the film Four Good Days starring Glenn Close and Mila Kunis. You wrote a song for the end title called “Somehow You Do.” Reba McEntire, who sings it, overlays a tough dimension of experience to the song.  

Warren: She’s lived it. She’s gone through a lot of shit in her life. But outside of the movie it’s a song about anything you are going through. “When you think that the mountain’s too high/And the ocean’s too wide, you’ll never get through/Some way, somehow, somehow you do.” 

   I read comments about the video, people are going through depression and it’s getting them through it. Music is a comfort to get you through the hard times. It’s great when you can write a song that has this impact. 

MC: It’s a non-specific sentiment that could apply to many situations. It reminds us of “’Til it Happens to You,” performed by Lady Gaga for The Hunting Ground, about the sexual assaults on women on college campuses. It is a song that could also apply to other contexts. 

Warren: I do this on purpose. First and foremost, the song has to fit in a movie, but if you do it right the song has meaning outside of the movie. “’Til it Happens to You,” I never say what it is. It could be you are going through a bad break up. “Stand Up for Something” from Marshall didn’t say what “something” was. I like to write songs with hope. 

MC: You have very famously been nominated for a record number of Oscars, but as of yet you don’t have a win. Somehow, you capitalize on this feat with grace and humor. 

Warren: I have 12 Academy Award nominations. I am now the most nominated woman in the entire history of the Academy Awards in any category who has not won. I think that’s really cool. Of course I‘d like to win, but if I had a choice of winning once 20 years ago, I’d choose this. There are only five songs chosen every year, voted on by fellow members of the music branch who are the greatest composers and songwriters in existence. If they nominate me, I take that as a win. 

MC: You have the ability to turn negatives into positives. 

Warren: I embrace it. How can it not be positive? It’s good to be acknowledged for your work. My first nomination for the Oscars was in 1988. (“Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” from Mannequin.) And I’m still doing this. And I’m still at the top of my game. I feel like I’m getting started. 

MC: Pop music has a short memory in many ways. You continue to write songs that are relevant. How do you sustain this remarkable string of successes?

Warren: It’s important to stay current. I work with current artists. The worst thing for me was to be known for what I’ve done in the past. I’m so about what’s next, and the future. I know I’ve achieved a lot, but I don’t feel like I have. I feel my best songs and successes are yet to come. I always have ideas for concepts and songs and artists who can do my songs. There is so much going on right now––more that ever in my life. I feel like I keep getting better because I keep learning. 

MC: In this era of mixtapes, your collection of multiple genres is right in the pocket.

Warren: When kids listen to music online, that’s what we had growing up, listening to the radio. It played all different style of songs. The radio was like an education. I’ve always been a sponge, taking it everything. Everything you can bring into your work. 

MC: You very famously write almost exclusively solo. What do you think of the phenomenon of seeing legions of songwriters credited on one song? 

Warren: Oh yeah, I’m a fucking unicorn. You go to the ASCAP Awards, and you see 20 people go up on stage. I hate the whole idea of committees. Committees dissipate everything––the whole idea of 10 songwriters on a song, what are you doing? Are you getting coffee? Coming up with the high-hat pattern on the end of the bridge? I get it––some of that is a bunch of people working together on a track. I’m doing that when I’m writing with programming in my head. I’m a one woman writing camp. I still use a Walkman and cassettes, but I also record ideas on my phone. 

MC: With the advocacy of SONA, (Songwriters of North America,) and the formation of the MLC (Mechanical Licensing Collective,) do you think things are improving for songwriters?

Warren: It’s always been hard and it will always be hard. For songwriters with valuable catalogs it’s good. Streaming is not good, with the loss of record sales. Some of the songwriter splits are crazy: 3.1 percent of a song? How do you figure it out, and how do you make money?

MC: Your publishing company Realsongs is one of the most successful indie publishing companies in the world. 

Warren: With one writer. Owning my songs just happened. It was 30 years ago, and it was a smart move. How about people selling catalogs? I’ve been offered crazy money. My soul isn’t for sale at any price. 

MC: In a year that couldn’t seem to get any stranger, the news reported on a herd of cattle that escaped from a slaughterhouse in Pico Rivera, CA. The next day there was a story how a hit songwriter saved the lives of two of these cows––and it was you.

Warren: I’m a big animal activist. I heard about the cows and tried to save them all. I have a ranch with rescue animals. I saw this one cow had tried to escape. I didn’t care how much it cost. My phone started blowing up, and it was this international press story. I got to talk about what they were running away from. That steak or hamburger you’re eating was murdered. That story changes people. Once you are aware of something you can’t become unaware. I hear stories of people who became vegans or vegetarians overnight. 

MC: You struggled for a long time before your break- through. When you were only 15 your dad brought you to the Los Angeles Songwriters Showcase (LASS) for industry critiques and advice. You’ve gone on record as saying that you like proving people wrong.

Warren: Len Chandler and John Braheny from the Showcase were so great. I was a little brat. I was arrogant. You’ve got to almost have that crazy belief in yourself. You have to have a “fuck you” attitude with the talent to back it up. I’ve proven people wrong so many times. When someone says you can’t do that––watch me. 

It happens when it happens. There’s luck involved, but you make your own luck. You have to put in the hours. I always worked at it. I made sure that I worked super hard. When a lucky break came I was there for it. I go to work. It’s a job I love. I’m the same person I was when I was 15 years old. I’m still obsessed. 

QUICK FACTS

•Diane Warren’s catalog includes nine Number Ones, and 32 Top 10s. She is the first songwriter in Billboard history to have seven hits, all by different artists, on the singles chart at the same time. 

•Among Diane Warren’s hits: “If I Could Turn Back Time” (Cher); “Because You Loved Me” (Celine Dion); “How Do I Live” (LeeAnn Rimes); “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” (Aerosmith); “Unbreak My Heart” (Toni Braxton); “When I See You Smile,” (Bad English); “Don’t Turn Around” (Ace of Base); “Love Will Lead You Back (Taylor Dane), and “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” (Starship). 

•Although the Oscar has so far eluded her, Warren has been presented with an Emmy, Golden Globes, a Grammy (with 15 noms), Billboard Music Awards, the Ivor Novello Award, Polar Music Prize, numerous ASCAP Awards, induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. 

•From Van Nuys, CA, Warren attended Pierce College and California State University in Northridge. Although she ran away from home as a teen, she claims she returned because she missed her cat. 

•The Diane Warren Foundation is dedicated to the support of animal rights and protection, enriching lives of the elderly and people suffering from life-threatening illnesses, along with music related charities. Her non-profit rescue ranch in Malibu, CA is home to pigs, goats, donkeys, horses, and cows.•

Contact Jeff Sanderson, jeff@chasenpr.com

Photos by Nick Spanos and Mekael Dawson

On this solo debut, propulsive rhythms and sonic sparkles belie darker themes. “The hooks and the catchy melodic things are gateways to let people into the music,” the Los Angeles-based artist explains. “Once they are in there, I want to give them more to explore. So that’s the opportunity for more complex lyrics, subject matter and textures.”

BAO, who began creating visual art in junior high, has exhibited in galleries and museums nationwide. An accomplished design professional, he says his approach to music is cinematic. “That’s my goal with these records––more like a film, where textures and images tell the stories.”

Working in pop music, a medium where Asian Americans have been historically under represented, BAO neatly obliterates model minority stereotypes. On “Thanks” he intones, “Every night we get drunk and smoke and fuck.” Says BAO, “It’s an open love letter. Sometimes you don’t get to express how grateful you are. These are magical themes in the movie of my life.”

Born in Vietnam, BAO emigrated with his family to the United States at age three. His outsider perspective is articulated in “We Never Say a Word,” with lines, “Good is never good enough/When good was made for someone else.” He notes, “There are little snap shots of stories of internalized racism that I’ve seen over and over in the Asian American community. A lot of my friends and contemporaries struggle with that.”

For close to a decade, BAO created pop-dance music as the mastermind of Ming & Ping, an extravagant concept that married eye-popping videos and costumes to Cantonese Opera-inspired electronica.

He curates corresponding content for Perpetual Heartbreak with video dialogues, “Behind BAO’s Music.” With “BAO Feels His Music,” the artist silently contemplates his tracks. “I figured this is my chance to treat music as conceptual art again,” he clarifies. “It’s not as divisive as Ming & Ping, which was more like Andy Kaufman and Pee Wee Herman––a reaction to the Britney Spears era of manufactured celebrity. That was conceptual art. Now, just releasing an album is conceptual art. So why not give audiences another way to absorb the music?”

With the Ming & Ping project, BAO played all of the instruments. For Perpetual Heartbreak, he enlisted a cast of musicians to contribute. “It’s like controlled chaos, to include other sources that take me out of my comfort zone,” BAO observes. “That’s reality. And I’m tired of having control of everything.”

While BAO is a self-described introvert, he is an affable on-screen host as seen in his new video series “Coffee With BAO,” as he interviews fellow creators. “I went to a magnet high school for performing and visual artists. I realized I was shit in expressing what was in my brain, and it was detrimental to my career as a creator. I could make the coolest stuff, but if no one understood what I was trying to do, what was the point? I’ve worked so hard to improve my speaking skills.”

Perpetual Heartbreak opens with “Beautiful Things,” a recast version of a Ming & Ping song. “The thought of including it was realizing that none of the work I’m generating is new,” BAO notes. “I’ve been exploring these themes since I started making artwork in ninth grade.”

A striking image in “Beautiful Things” repeats, “You just watch the show like a black crow.” BAO explains the reference. “It could be interpreted as a bad thing, but heroes can be bad people too. Villains also have greatness. Everybody has a broad spectrum of good and bad, positive and negative. Crows freak people out because they are black, and they sit off in the distance and watch you. But they are considered one of our most intelligent birds. They recognize faces. If you mess with them, they will remember you forever.”

Contact Alex Steininger, In Music We Trust PR, alex@inmusicwetrust.com

Produced by: Ricky Reed

While Reed is the artist on this project, released through his Nice Life imprint, the master producer magnanimously spotlights a stellar cast who collaborated remotely. “Us (How Sweet It Was) featuring Jim James and duendita, glides on a Great American Song Book melody, whereas “Real Magic” with Terrace Martin & St. Panther, is aloft on sensual warmth. John-Robert, with pop purveyor Alessia Cara, adds his beguiling falsetto to “Fav Boy.” Leon Bridges and Kiana Ledé make it all “Better,” and Godfather666’s disarmingly tender voice is spellbinding on “No Future.” In troubled times, Reed casts a comforting aura illuminated in immediacy and cerebral sensitivity.

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