Fresh Air - Jason Isbell On Love, Heartbreak & Songwriting

Episode Date: April 3, 2025

Isbell sings about his split from musician Amanda Shires on his latest album, Foxes in the Snow. "What I was attempting to do is document a very specific time where I was going through a lot of changes," he says.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

When Malcolm Gladwell presented NPR's Throughline podcast with a Peabody Award, he praised it for its historical and moral clarity. On Throughline, we take you back in time to the origins of what's in the news, like presidential power, aging, and evangelicalism. Time travel with us every week on the Throughline podcast from NPR. This is Fresh Air. I'm Terry Gross. My guest Jason Isbell was described in variety

as the poet laureate of American rock. The quibble I have with that is that I'm not exactly sure I'd call it rock because there's country and folk music blending into many of his songs. Maybe the word Americana more suits him. He's won nine Americana music Awards and six Grammys. His lyrics are as well written as a good poem or short story. They're often very

personal and that was especially true of his album Southeastern, which was released in 2013 and was his first album since Getting Sober. It's also true of his new album Foxes in the Snow, on which he sounds especially naked because it's solo. His band, the 400 Unit, sits this one out. It's just Isbell and his guitar. Some of the songs are about the blame, anger, and guilt when a relationship ends, and about the exhilaration of falling in love again.

His ex-wife, Amanda Shires, is also a songwriter and singer and violinist who performed with Isbell. She's written her own songs about the cracks in their relationship. They were in a 2023 documentary together called Running with Our Eyes Closed, which is about the making of Isbell's 2020 album, Reunions, on which she played fiddle. The film also end up being about the tension in the marriage, which was exacerbated during the COVID lockdown

when they spent more time together than they ever had. Jason Isbell got his professional start with the band The Drive-By Truckers. Before we hear some of the relationship songs, let's start with a song that opens the album. I love this one. It's called, Bury Me. Bury me where the wind don't blow, where the dust won't cover me Where the tall grass grows Or bury me right where I fall Tokyo to Tennessee, I love them all See the windmills turn up fifty five Still got so much to learn, still feel alive

And one lonely girl is all I need To tie me to this world and make me believe I ain't no cowboy, but I can ride And I ain't no outlaw, but I've been inside And there were bars that steal boys And there were bars that sing And there were bars with swinging doors For all the time between. That was Bury Me from Jason Isbell's new album, Foxes in the Snow. Jason Isbell, welcome back to Fresh Air. I love this album. Congratulations on it. And I love this song. And I hope I don't mangle this, but I want to quote some of the lyric. This is the chorus, I ain't no cowboy, but I can ride. I ain't no outlaw, but I've been inside.

And there were bars of steel, boys, and there were bars to sing. And there were bars with swinging doors for all the time between. That's so great because you're talking about a jail with Bars of Steel, music, which has bars delineating each, each segment, you know, each like four notes or whatever, and bars with swinging doors. Those are like old Western saloons that had those swinging doors. And you were a drinker for years. So that's just, it's like, were you in jail too?

I have been to jail. Yeah, never for longer than a day and never for anything violent. But yeah, I have been. For drinking too much? Yeah, just from drinking, drinking and yelling hard at people who were also drinking. So you imagine you managed to incorporate some of your own story into this kind of cowboy song. Yes, yes. But it's also there are, you know, I'm attempting to work on different levels sometimes.

It's not necessarily an allegorical song, but there are pieces of this song that are directly about me, you know, and there are details that I pull from my own life. And, you know, the swinging doors line, I mean, that could be, you know, I'm sitting here looking at a gate out the window right now, and that could also be gates, and there is at least one very, very famous set of gates when it comes to right and fault music. But, yeah. Even with the gates of heaven? I am, indeed, yeah, in a death song.

You know, so it's the kind of thing where, you know, sort of let my unconscious mind build these lyrical phrases, and then I go back and shape them into something that not only sings and scans accurately, which is this is a huge part of the process for me that I think sometimes people don't realize how much energy you spend just trying to get something to sing naturally. Was death on your mind when you wrote this? Um, I don't know that death was on my mind anymore than, you know, life was on my mind. I mean, anytime I think about being grateful, you know, I think, I call it my hillbilly brain, but it goes to the worst possible scenario in a lot of situations.

So, you know, I spend a lot of time thinking about death, not in a sad or fearful way, but in a way that, you know, I think, well, I've already done so many things and got to see so many things, and that might not have necessarily been in the plans for me at the beginning. So I'm very, very grateful for the time that I have had, and I think the song deals with that among other things. There was a time though, there was definitely a time early on after Amanda and I had split up. You know, when I was just, I was driving in the car and the radio wasn't on and I was alone and I just heard myself say out loud

without realizing that I was saying and I heard myself say, is this gonna kill me? You know, and I didn't even know that I was, you know, didn't know that I was saying, and I heard myself say, is this going to kill me? You know, and I didn't even know that I was, you know, didn't know that I was thinking that question, but I heard it bounce off the windshield. So yeah, I mean, it's a combination of both of those things. Everything is brief, it's so, so brief, but it's so beautiful. I'm going to tell you my dilemma as a listener. And I'll preface this by saying I really love this album. So I first interviewed you in 2013 after Southeastern,

your first album since Getting Sober. And at that time you seemed so much in love with your wife, who I think you were already married, Amanda, who's also a songwriter and singer and violinist and then I interviewed her in 2022 when she had an album out that included a couple of songs about fractures in the relationship and your new album includes songs about fractures in your relationship and ending a relationship, the pain of separating, the guilt of all of it, falling in love with someone new after.

And listening, I sometimes think like, am I supposed to be taking sides here because I like her songs, I like your songs, I can see both sides, you know? It's kind of like friends of yours are breaking up and you're supposed to choose to like, who stays your friend afterwards, you know. It's kind of like friends of yours are breaking up and you're supposed to choose to like who stays your friend afterwards, you know. And then I thought like, no, that's not what I want to do. What I want to do is really enjoy both of your songs and appreciate each

point of view and know that there's things in each of those points of view that I identify with. So I want to talk with you about writing these songs, but I also don't want to trespass on your privacy. So let's find a way to talk about it without getting too personal and making anyone uncomfortable. We need an audio intimacy coordinator. I love that idea. Say something new. So I guess the first thing I'm wondering is like, if you write a song that is critical of the person who'd been married to and who's the mother of your daughter, do you feel guilty about it? Like, how do you, do you fear, is there a form of self-censorship that comes in because you don't want to hurt the other person? Or do you just write what you want to write? And I think this is something that particularly memoirists

run into all the time. Well, where am I being critical? The song I'm about to play, for example. Yeah, yeah. Which is Gravel Weed. I was a gravel weed and I needed about to play, for example, which is Gravel Weed. I was a gravel weed and I needed you to raise me. I'm sorry the day came when I felt I was raised. So it's kind of like you needed her to help you get through a period and now you don't

need her anymore because you got through it. Well now, I didn't say that I'm sorry the day came when I was raised. I said I'm sorry the day came when I felt like I was raised. That's true. You say when I felt I was raised. Yes. And then the next chorus I say, and you couldn't reach me when I felt like I was raised. Right. Okay. So I'm still looking for the critical part. So you think you're

being self-critical? This is not my job, you see. My job is to write the songs, but it's in there. Right. If you look close enough, your answers are all in there. I think that I'm always being self-critical. I think I'm being as honest as I can be, and I think I am forcing myself to work at a higher level in some ways than I have worked before. Not necessarily in the part where it's glitter and dust and look what I can do, look at the phrases I can turn, but in a way, let's see how much I can show people

and still be neutral and still be an observer in my own life. And it's there. If I've slipped, let me know because I think it's there. So let's play the song and I'll say, I'm from Brooklyn and I had to look up what a gravel weed was. It's like the tree, the crack in the sidewalk, you know. Well I looked it up and it looks like it grows really tall with flowers. It does, yeah.

In the part of the country where you're from, which is Alabama. But it is, as Amanda and her dad would say, it's a trash plant. Right. Okay. Her dad's a florist, not a florist, but he grows commercial flowers, and so they would call it a trash plant. Not me, that's not a metaphor. Yeah, we're not doing the job right now, we're just talking right now.

The gravel weed itself would be the kind of plant that you would pull. You would pull it up out of the gravel, so your gravel would look nice and neat. Most people would do that. Some people would do that. Some people would say, well, that grows very tall and grows flowers if you let it grow. All right. Let's hear the actual song written and performed by my guest Jason Isbell. I wish that I could be angry I wish I didn't understand I said your skin was like water and let you flow right through my hands

Is there a love that's not crazy? Is there a life that's not alive? All I know is I had to go and you know why, why, why I was a grab of weed and I needed you to raise me You couldn't reach me once I felt like I was raised Now that I live to see my melodies betray me I'm sorry the love songs all mean different things today That's Jason Isbell, Gravel Weed from his new album, which is called Foxes in the Snow. I want to quote another line from there,

which is, but now I've lived to see my melodies betray me. I'm sorry the love songs all mean different things today. Can you talk about that a little bit, having written love songs about one person and then written inspired I think by the same relationship songs about the relationship ending. How do those old love songs sound to you now and do you still play them? Can you still play cover me up for instance? I can yeah yeah um and the old songs they mean different things to me now

because I have hindsight you know, and the emotions that I'm feeling now when I'm playing those songs, they're not the same as they were when I wrote them. You know, they're certainly not that sort of obsession. There's more nostalgia for the person that I was when I felt that way. And there's also a document of love that I had for someone, and I feel like that was reciprocated at the time. And, you know, I mean, that's just art, you know?

Our lives change. And the hard part for me is not writing about it. The hard part is making the decisions that lead me to peace. That's very, very difficult, but I'm not just going to whine for the rest of my life. I have been given too much already for that. So many love songs and breakup songs have been written in every genre for centuries. How do you find new things to say, new words to use in a love song? I mean, Ira Gershwin even wrote a lyric,

what can you say in a love song that's never been said before? Mm-hm, which is a beautiful lyric. That's one way to do it, you know? What I try to do is closely document my own experience. Even though I think my audience might not recognize themselves in this story, usually what winds up happening is I come up with something that I might not be saying a new thing. I might not, you know, everybody's looking at the moon, but we're all looking at it from a different spot. And so I'm trying to say instead of this is what the moon looks like, I'm trying to say this

is what the moon looks like from right here. And you know, also you don't have to say anything new, to tell you the truth. You don't. You can combine words and melodies in a way that sounds familiar. I think my rule is as long as you don't know who you're ripping off before the song comes out, then you're okay. I want to play another track from your new album, and this is called True Believer. Do you want to say anything about writing this song before we hear it? This is another relationship song, another breaking up or broken up kind of song. No, I like the melody and the chorus on this one. This is one where my daughter, Mercy, she's nine, she likes to listen to the pop hits

of the day on her way to school and back home. And so I've been listening to a lot of the current pop hits and thought, man, I need to write this big, huge melody to go with this really sad song. So I like that melody a lot. Yeah, well, I do too. Thank you. So this is True Believer. ["True Believer"]

Take your hand off my knee, take your foot off my neck Why y'all examining me like I'm a murder suspect? If I got a little loose I just forgot to be afraid But I started out a true believer, babe A lot of dangerous memories, a lot of bars in this town But oh, to have loved and lost and then still stuck around But I heard God in the rhyme and I crawled out of the grave I guess I'm still a true believer, babe All your girlfriends say I broke your f***ing heart

and I don't like it There's a letter on the nightstand. I don't take all every. Well, I finally found a match and you kept daring me to strike it. Now I have to let it burn to let it be. So, um, that's Jason Isbell from his new album, Foxes in the Snow. The song is called True Believer. You had asked me earlier, like, give me an example of a line where I sound critical of my

ex or of an ex. So from the song we just heard, two separate lines, take your hand off my knee, take your foot off my neck. And then all your girlfriends say, I broke your bleepin' heart and I don't like it. There's a letter on the nightstand, I don't think I'll ever read it. So that sounds, it sounds angry and you sing it angry.

Okay, but those first two lines keep going. When you said, take your hand off my knee, take your foot off my neck. When you get to, I finally found a match in that and you're daring me. I'm trying to remember with the next line. It is, why are y'all examining me like I'm a murder suspect? Oh yes, right. Y'all would be the plural. So the person who's being

addressed is not a single person. There's no criticism of a single person in that line. The second one. Take your hand off my knee and your foot off my neck. I love these songs so I'm not criticizing you or the song I'm just wondering like what it's like to write songs that are critical of somebody you've been so close to or at least Well, I appreciate I very much appreciate it. But but and I know that you're not and I and I don't mean to be sounding argumentative I'm trying to Show the trick a little bit

I think the closer you pay attention to this record, the more gracious the lyric becomes. I think time has a way of making us feel that way about each other after something like a breakup. I think perspective, empathy for the other person starts to sink in as time passes. I was hoping that that's how it would work with the lyrics on this record because it sounds accusatory. It sounds angry. And then you go back and think, well, who's he accusing and who's he angry at? And I think, unless I'm wrong, I think in every situation, the closer you look,

the more it becomes obvious that the record's about growing and changing as me myself and not about accusing Amanda or any other individual person. I'm trying to push myself and I'm trying to work in a different way than how I've worked in the past. So let me reintroduce you here. If you're just joining us, my guest is Jason Isbell. His new album is called Foxes in the Snow. We'll be back for more music and conversation after a break. I'm Terry Gross and this is Fresh Air. fresh air. Everything's green right now. Tennessee at the end of June.

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How ideas, emotions, and creatures coexist. That's next time on the TED Radio Hour from NPR. I want to ask you about your early life. You grew up in two churches. Your father was part of the Pentecostal church. Your grandfather was a preacher in the church. Your mother was with the Church of Christ. In the Pentecostal church when you were growing up, the church you went to had like instruments. And it sounds like there were maybe electrified instruments? Yeah, there were. Yeah, there were big like PV amps and a drum set and all that kind of stuff. Okay, whereas in your mother's church, Church of Christ, instruments weren't allowed. It was just singing. So how could you be sure which was like the true Christian

approach when you were growing up with two opposite approaches to music and you started playing music like when you were six when you got a mandolin. So like, you're really deeply involved with music, and one church says instruments are wrong in church, they do not belong in this holy place, and the other says, turn up the amp. I feel like that is, the question is still above my pay grade. You know, I just liked both of them. And I think I preferred the one with the loud amps, to tell you the truth. But there was one moment where I'd gone to my dad's family's church a couple Sundays,

and they spoke in tongues when it was time to pray. Everyone in the church, they started praying all at the same time out loud in what they considered to be a spiritually motivated language. You know, really I think chances are they were just kind of making it up as sort of gibberish. But they spoke in tongues and then when I went to my mom's church, the Church of Christ, most people in the congregation did not speak at all, usually just the preacher or a few people who were designated to speak.

So when it came time to pray, the preacher would do the praying and occasionally you'd hear kind of a quiet amen from somebody in the congregation. But I got them confused and I was, I don't know, probably four years old. And when it came time to pray in my mom's Church of Christ Church, I just dropped down on my knees and started yelling in gibberish. Oh, my mom grabbed me by the back of the neck like, get up, get up, get up, get up, be quiet. It was a very embarrassing moment for her.

I still don't know which one's right. I kind of hope it's neither of them at this point in my life. But musically, I was very, very fortunate, very fortunate, because my family were all very musical people. My parents didn't play any instruments, but everybody else in the family did. And that's sort of how we all bonded. There's a song from an earlier album, the song's called Wipe, Reta. And I just want to quote a couple of the lines in it.

And I don't know if this is autobiographical, but you're right. I was raised in the blood and we were all saved before we even left home. And there's a line, I thank God you weren't brought up like me with all that shame and certainty. So, you know, we often talk about the shame instilled in us by some religions. But I want you to talk about the certainty, the certainty that you were brought up with that you may be later rejected. Yeah, I don't know that I needed it as much as my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents needed it.

I think for them, there's very little reward in this world. To keep them going, probably survival instinct, to keep them on the straight and narrow, they needed to store up their reward in the next life, or in heaven. For me, I'm very lucky. I have been able to do the thing that I love the most every single day, and I've been rewarded for it in a way that sometimes seems ridiculous. So I don't know that I have the same needs that they had, but they had to have a certainty of heaven and a certainty of hell. And if we keep our wits about us, treat each other

well, be honest, do the right things according to the scripture, then we'll go to heaven and we'll get our reward. And if we don't, then we'll go to hell and we'll get the exact opposite of a reward. I think what really started crumbling the cookie for me was hell just seemed way worse than it should have been. It didn't have to be that bad. It was like the fire was like seven times hotter and the pitchforks and the constant torture. It's just really hard for me to believe that for stealing a pair of sunglasses or, you know, I don't know, kissing your buddy's girlfriend that you were going to, you know, go to actual hell. So I started, maybe this is not all literal. And then everything just sort of fell apart as far as organized, structured,

biblical religion for me. Danielle Pletka So you were taught to read the Bible literally. And I know that there was a period, and I don't know how old you were So you were taught to read the Bible literally, and I know that there was a period, and I don't know how old you were when you were doing this, you assigned yourself to read a passage from the Bible every night. What was that about? Why were you doing that? That was about obsessive compulsive disorder.

That's what that was about. Yeah, that was so I didn't die in my sleep and it worked. So what made you think that that's what you needed to do to protect yourself? That's a really good question. What made me think that? Chemicals in my brain maybe, trauma from growing up in rural Alabama with really young parents. For some reason, I thought that someone was looking out for me, but I also was very afraid of that God and had taught to be very afraid of him.

My grandfather, anytime when I was little, I remember being two years old, three years old asking him, what are you afraid of? Because he seemed like the strongest. He looked like Clint Eastwood. He seemed like the toughest dude that had ever lived. And you know, what are you afraid of? Because he seemed like the strongest. He looked like Clint Eastwood. He seemed like the toughest dude that ever lived. And I said, what are you afraid of? And he said, the only thing I'm afraid of is God. That's all I'm afraid of. I remember thinking, well, God must be pretty scary then. And so I think I was sort of bartering with the man upstairs as a child, you know, every night thinking, well, he's not going to let let me die if I'm the best Bible reader there is among six-year-old children in the state

of Alabama. Pretty tough competition turns out. Well, let's take another short break here and then we'll talk some more. If you're just joining us, my guest is songwriter, singer, and guitarist Jason Isbell. His new album is called Foxes in the Snow. We'll be right back. This is Fresh Air. Do you remember when discovering a new artist felt like finding buried treasure? At All Songs Considered, NPR's music recommendation podcast, we put that kind of magic back into discovering new tracks. We're here to make the hunt for new music easy, delivering you the cream of the crop from every genre. We'll help you make music feel fun again, only on All Songs Considered from NPR.

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of the news. Six days a week, we bring you a deep dive on a story and provide the context, backstory, and analysis you need to understand our rapidly changing world. Listen to the Consider This Podcast from NPR. I want to play another track from the new album, and this is called Crimson and Clay. And I know you say you don't think about what you're going to do before you start writing a song, you just sit down and start writing it. Nevertheless, I'm going to ask you, is there anything you want to say to introduce the song and what inspired it? This one, this happens to me a lot.

Maybe I should sit down before I write the song and make a plan. Because sometimes I'll think, well, I think I'm gonna write a love song to my hometown or to the place where I grew up. And then usually third or fourth verse, the difficult stuff finds its way in. And I think, well, if I'm gonna be honest, I might have to be honest. And that's kind of how this song went. We were going just fine early on and then you get to that bridge, that third verse and it's like, oh boy, out of nowhere comes the tough stuff.

You want to quote that part? Oh, let's see, where does it start? It starts, so when... Is that the part with the little noose? Yeah, there's a little noose in a locker. When I was in school, there was a girl who was living in the Christian children's home just a few, a couple of miles away from my high school, and a black girl. And almost everyone in our school, K through 12, we were all white kids and, you know,

redneck, like poor white people. And this little girl came to school from the Christian children's home and there was, I think somebody hung a noose or drew a picture of a noose and put it in her locker. And she changed. Schools went somewhere else after that. And then there was a, we had a couple teachers who were black and their children came to that school but didn't wind up graduating. Something happened, you know. And I'm not sure the details, but they

just all sort of moved away and went somewhere else. And so that was the picture in my mind when I was working on the bridge of that song. There's also crosses on the wall. Someplace in the song there's rebel flags. Terri Smeets Rebel flags on the highway and wooden crosses on the wall. Danielle Pletka So I assume the wooden crosses were Christian crosses but I was wondering if they were clan crosses?

Terri Smeets No, no, they were on the wall. I mean, it's the same cross, Terri. Danielle Pletka Yeah, that's true. Terri Smeets It's the same cross. Danielle Pletka Well, I'll tell you what, why don't we hear the song, and then we can talk about it more after we hear it. So this is Crimson and Clay from Jason Isbell's new album, Foxes in the Snow.

["Foxes in the Snow"] I got a little bold action on my ninth birthday. And I can flip a silver dollar from a hundred yards away 1911, under my floor, man And one day it just occurred to me I got no use for that Guess the city didn't kill me after all This thing that nearly took me out was loneliness and alcohol And I just put it down and walked away

Crawled back to the crimson and the clay See the moon in the morning, I anticipate the night Lick the spoon in the kitchen, we pray no more for white Little noose in a locker, brown eyes crying in the hall Rebel flags on the highway, wooden crosses on the wall Guess the small town didn't suit me after all small town didn't suit me after all. There's still so many lonely kids surrounded by the rest of y'all and I can't seem to keep myself away.

So I head back to the crimson and the clay. That was Crimson and Clay from my guest Jason Isbell's new solo album, Foxes in the Snow. You know, I love how the chorus keeps going like, guess the highway didn't kill me after all, guess the city didn't kill me after all, and then guess a small town didn't suit me after all. I want to ask you about the highway, you know, guess the highway didn't kill me after all. And the next line is, well I thought I was a goner in that trail of fire in Arkansas. If that

is at all autobiographical, what happened? Well, so we used to have a pull behind, a very small pull behind trailer that went behind the van, and the cap, sort of like a hubcap, I guess it is a hubcap, it would sometimes come off and all of the grease from inside the axle on the trailer would shoot out onto the highway and the trailer would catch on fire. I don't know how many times that trailer caught on fire, more than once, as we were going down the road. And people would pull up beside us and roll the window down and be waving and shouting

and yelling. And we'd be too tired or too stoned to realize what they were saying for a few minutes. And then look in the rear view mirror and sure enough, there's flames coming out of the wheels of the trailer. Yeah, so that really happened. Was it with your parents? No, no, no. This was my rock and roll band. Oh, because I know, didn't you live in a trailer. Was it with your parents? No, no, no, this was my rock and roll band.

Oh, because I know, didn't you live in a trailer for a while with your parents? Yes, yes, different kind of trailer though. This was, that was, yeah, that was a house trailer, but this was a pull-behind trailer with our equipment in it. Did you find that terrifying? I'd be terrified. Um, yeah, I mean, I don't know about, we were pretty feral. And at that point... I'm probably pretty drunk. Yeah, pretty drunk or hungover enough to basically be drunk or stoned or, you know, I don't know

that fear kicked in for us the way it probably should have in those days. And there are a lot of situations where, you situations where we came very close to death and we were just layers and layers of exhausted and for some stupid reason kept on going and kept on working until we got to a point to where we could lay down and go to the bathroom on the bus and buy some groceries and put them in the fridge and hear ourselves on stage and then people start showing up and more people start showing up and finally, you're looking for different challenges.

But back in those days, we just put our nose down and ran at the wall. So I'm assuming that was in your early days of performing with the drive-by truckers as opposed to with your current band. Oh, it was with the truckers and then with my current band again. Because when I got fired from the truckers, I had to go back in the van. When the truckers fired you because you were so drunk and, I guess, undisciplined,

what message did you take away from that? That they were being unfair to me and that they were jealous. That was the message I took away for a long time. And then I came around and understood that I needed to get my ass in gear and honor the gift of being able to make music and be kinder to people and take better care of myself. And you know, since then, I mean, I've reconnected with them, I consider them to be very good friends and you know, I talked to Patterson all the time but yeah at the time I took away from it that they're jealous and mean. Let's take another short break here and then we'll talk some more. If you're just

joining us my guest is songwriter, singer and guitarist Jason Isbell. His new album is called Foxes in the Snow. We'll be right back. This is Fresh Air. Over 70% of us say that we feel spiritual, but that doesn't mean we're going to church. Nope. The girls are doing reiki, the bros are doing psychedelics, and a whole lot of us are turning inward to manifest our best selves. On It's Been a Minute from NPR, I'm looking at why maybe you and your closest friends are buying into wellness for spirituality. That's on the It's Been a Minute podcast from NPR. At Planet Money, we'll take you from a race to make rum in the Caribbean. Our rum from a quality standpoint is the best in the world.

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You've been sober for around 15 years or more, right? 13 years. I just got my 13th tick mark tattoo. I do them on my right forearm. How is sobriety different now than it was in the early years of sobriety? It's not as sneaky, or at least not as quick. It's still sneaky, but it's not as quick. You know, the alcohol, the sabri... All those things, I think what's really changed is my ability to recognize the addiction speaking to me and my ability and motivation to share those feelings with people that I'm close to. Early on, I was in my recovery process. Early on, I was embarrassed that I'd ever been an

alcoholic to begin with. And if I wanted to drink, I just sat there and wanted a drink. And I didn't have one and I didn't say a word. And now, if it gets anywhere near me, if I start thinking, you know, wouldn't it be nice to turn these feelings off for a little while, clock out for a minute, I'll tell somebody, I'll tell somebody that I know cares about me. And that's gotten easier just like anything else, you practice it and it gets easier.

You know, the last year has been tough on me emotionally. I know it's been hard on a lot of people for a lot of reasons. But I'm very grateful for the fact that I don't mind talking about it. I think that's what's kept me sober for all these years. Well, this leads us right into a song, and it's from an earlier album, and the song is, It Gets Easier, But It Never Gets Easy. And it's a song about, you know, staying sober. Do you want to say anything about writing it?

You know, it's... You think it's hard to write a love song, try writing a damn recovery song and not sounding like a bumper sticker. That's very hard. But you gotta be personal, you know, and you've got to be very small. And you know, like when I say, last night I dreamed that I'd been drinking. You know, I didn't say last night I dreamed that I was drinking. And that's never how it worked.

For me, the dream would always be, I had just taken a drink. And then I would sort of come to it in the dream and think, Whoa, what did I just do? Why is there an empty glass in my hand? Why am I feeling intoxicated? You know, I never got to enjoy the drink. It was always just, you just had a drink. Welcome to this nightmare. You know, so I worked hard on that song to make sure that like, like I was talking

about earlier, it makes sure that it scans, make sure that it scans right, that it sounds conversational, that it doesn't sound forced like you're jamming syllables in where they don't belong. And if you can do that, you'll cut out a whole lot of your potential for cliche because you can accept a cliche when I'm just saying it to you. If I say, there's no bigger cliche than I love you. But if I say it and I mean it and it sounds natural it to you. If I say, there's no bigger cliche than I love you. But if I say it and I mean it and it sounds natural,

then you're not going to think, oh, what a cliche. You know, it works that way in songs too. If you can use lyrics and phrases and subject matter that have been covered so many times in the past, but if you get it to sing just right, then people forget they're listening to a song at all. So we're unfortunately out of time. I want to end with some music.

I've picked all the music for this interview. So it's your turn. I want you to pick something to end with. Let's see. Let's play Eileen. Have we played Eileen? No, we haven't. I was thinking of that too. I really love that. Let's play Eileen. Have we played Eileen? No, we haven't. I was thinking of that too. I really love that. Let's play Eileen. I think there's some really good turns of phrase in that song.

And it's lower in my vocal register than anything I've ever sang before. A little over a year ago, I lost my voice. And I think part of this is probably psychosomatic but also I had just been yelling for 30 years and never really learned how to sing and when my voice went out I had this really traumatic experience where I was singing a Bon Jovi song at the Music Cares Tribute to John Bon Jovi and I don't know if you know this but Bon Jovi songs are not easy to sing. And I look down and there sits John with Bruce Springsteen and Paul McCartney and they're all sitting right in front of me. And they start counting off the song and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I'm

not going to do a good job. And I didn't, you know. And it didn't, you know, and it didn't kill me. And I started taking vocal lessons and got an ENT and learned how to sing over the course of the next year. And so not only can I sing higher than I used to, but I can sing lower too. And Eileen is a really low key for me. Do you feel like you've found a trap door in your throat that you could sing through

without destroying your vocal cords? Yes, yes. Have you ever had vocal lessons? Because that's exactly how it feels. I have, and I wish I could say that I can really sing now, but I just sing for myself and don't disturb others with... Even my cat gets angry when he hears me sing. Well, cats kind of stay angry, you know.

But yes, it does. The technique of it, it used to be so much work and I would get so much fatigue from night to night. And yeah, now I'm very, very happy. And being able to learn something that's just so important to my work and to my life, you know, in my mid-40s is a pretty wonderful thing. Well, it's a gift to us, your fans, if you can keep singing. So that's great. Thank you. So we'll end with Eileen. But first, I want to thank you so much for talking with us.

It's really been a pleasure to have you back on the show. And thanks for the new album. Terry, thank you. You truly are an American treasure. I'm always a little bit nervous to talk to you because I know how smart you are and how much I enjoy listening to your show and it's an honor for me. That means so much to me. Thank you so much. Started out like it always starts, try to hold the hunger back You don't anticipate a broken heart, can't see nothing but the track A diamond earring and a Bowery bed, kicked your shoes across the floor Do you regret the things that went unsaid? Or have you heard it all before?

Eileen, you should have seen this just a rumor but that's your way. Jason Isbell's new album is called Foxes in the Snow. To find out what's happening behind the scenes of our show and get our producers recommendations for what to watch, read, and listen to, subscribe to our free newsletter at whyy.org. fresh air. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Roberta Shorrock, Ann Muebel Donato, Lauren Krenzel, Theresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Challener, Anna Bauman, and Joel Wolfram.

Susan Yakundi directed today's show. Our co-host is Tanya Mosley. I'm Terry Gross. On this week's episode of Wild Card, actress Elizabeth Olsen reflects on being a Marvel superstar. I think I haven't always successfully made choices in my work that are aligned with my personal taste. And that is something I feel like I'm still trying to prove.

I'm Rachel Martin. Join us for NPR's Wild Card Podcast, the show where cards control the conversation.