Cheatin’, Betrayal, and Heartbreak – Our Playlist of Anything But Love Songs

It’s Valentine’s Day again, which means we’re all wading through a saccharine sea of pink-and-red grocery store displays, sentimental commercials for overpriced jewelry, and unsolicited reminders of how dreamy love is supposed to feel. But country doesn’t shy away from the gritty, painful sides of love – and neither do we. So, if you need an escape from the nausea-inducing love parade this year, we’ve got you covered.

From classic pleas like Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” to rage-filled revenge ballads like Miranda Lambert’s “Gunpowder & Lead,” this Good Country playlist is packed full of songs about betrayal, heartbreak, regret, and unfaithful partners. Whether you’re recovering from a recent stab in the back or staving off memories of a long-lost love, these songs will ride with you through the pain and see you to the other side of another gruelling Valentine’s Day season.

Check out a few of our favorites and below you’ll find over four hours of cheatin’ songs on our Good Country playlist on Spotify.

“Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger” – Charley Pride

Jerry Crutchfield and Don Robertson mastered the art of the gentle-yet-cutting callout when they wrote this song for Charley Pride back in 1967. Released on Pride’s third album, The Country Way, “Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger” tells the story of a kind and understanding husband whose wife just can’t seem to keep her wedding ring on when she goes out on the town.

Unlike a lot of cheating songs that devolve (understandably) into anger and spite, this one holds a certain gentleness that we can really appreciate. Pride’s voice is booming and rich, but it’s also tender and emotive as he essentially says, “Hey, not to step on any toes here, but would you mind not pretending you’re single every time you go out? Thanks.”


“Whispering Waltz” – Sierra Ferrell

Sierra Ferrell’s “Whispering Waltz” is an earnest and sorrowful song of surrender. Showcasing the clear, subtle qualities of Ferrell’s voice, this short and sweet waltz holds no anger or contempt – just simple sadness and the acceptance of having been betrayed.

While much of Ferrell’s music highlights her skill as a belter and larger-than-life performer, this tune underlines her talent as a songwriter. But the recent four-time GRAMMY winner is no stranger to writing mic-drop-worthy cheating songs. One of her earliest hits, “Rosemary” (which originally garnered attention as a Gems on VHS field recording on YouTube) tells a time-tested and brutal tale of a woman who murders her disloyal partner’s mistress and buries her under a flower bush.

While of course we absolutely do not condone this kind of unhinged behavior, both “Rosemary” and “Whispering Waltz” are some of the best country songs about cheating and betrayal penned and performed in recent decades. And murder ballads, after all, have been a country tradition since time immemorial.


“Your Cheatin’ Heart” – Hank Williams

It may seem like too obvious a choice, but this list just wouldn’t feel complete without a nod to one of Hank Williams’ most famous songs – and one of the most well-known country cheatin’ songs ever recorded.

Written nearly 75 years ago, “Your Cheatin’ Heart” has been resonating with scorned lovers everywhere since its release in 1952. A great example of Williams’ knack for timeless storytelling and a brilliantly simple song structure, this country classic won’t make your heartbreak go away, but it might make it just a little easier to bear (at least for two minutes and 41 seconds).


“Gaslighter” – The Chicks

This fiery 2020 release from country superstars The Chicks is electrifying from its first belted notes to its last. An extremely personal song written by the band’s longtime frontperson, Natalie Maines, “Gaslighter” is direct, confronting, and does not mince words. We won’t name any names, but we wouldn’t have wanted to be in Maines’s ex-husband’s shoes when this banger first dropped.

For anyone out there who’s ever been cheated on, lied to, or misled by a long-term partner, “Gaslighter” offers an empowering boost of righteous redemption and brutal-yet-necessary honesty. In the words of one anonymous commenter on YouTube, “If you can’t afford therapy, listening to this song about 20 times on repeat works.”


“I’m Gonna Sleep with One Eye Open” – Dolly Parton

Written by Lester Flatt and first recorded by Flatt & Scruggs in 1955, “I’m Gonna Sleep With One Eye Open” is an irresistible bluegrass take on the classic cheatin’ song. Dolly Parton’s version, recorded for her 1999 album, The Grass Is Blue, might help cheer you up if you’re feeling down and out this Valentine’s Day. (Because really, who can be in a bad mood while listening to Dolly Parton?)

Of course, Dolly’s better known for a different song about jealousy and the risk of betrayal – her 1973 megahit, “Jolene,” which is quite possibly the most well-loved and well-known country song to ever hit the airwaves. In 2024, Rolling Stone named “Jolene” the greatest country song of all time, calling it “the ultimate country heartbreak song” – and we won’t dare disagree.


“Fist City” – Loretta Lynn

Before Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” there was Loretta Lynn’s “Fist City.” With both dukes up, Lynn wrote this iconic country diss track in 1968, allegedly inspired by her real-life husband’s habit of cavorting with other women. But while the song quickly reached number one on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart after its release, it was soon banned by most major radio stations for its controversial theme. (That is, Lynn threatening to beat people up for hitting on her husband).

Lynn went on to have upwards of a dozen songs banned from various radio stations throughout her career, because they often addressed feminist themes (though Lynn herself didn’t identify as a feminist). In fact, some radio stations still won’t play Lynn’s song “The Pill,” a single released in 1975 about birth control and sexual freedom. This Valentine’s Day, we’ll be blasting “Fist City” in honor of Lynn, who passed in 2022, and in honor of everyone else who’s ever been wronged by someone who made promises they weren’t prepared to keep.


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Lead Image: Audrey & Hank Williams by Henry Schofield (1951), courtesy of the Country Music Hall of Fame.

MIXTAPE: Melanie MacLaren’s Love & Loss Playlist

Welcome to my Mixtape of loss and love! I hope you don’t need it right now, but if you do, it’s here to bring you a little comfort. When I was making it, I started out trying to make the most devastating playlist I could make, but then halfway through I decided to make something I’d actually enjoy listening to. Something that mimics the way we process loss and love– yes, there’s a lot of time spent in really dark places, but there’s also so much humor in the face of everything and a lot of reluctant joy, showing its light despite our best efforts to draw the curtains and hide.

That dialogue between loss and joy is at the heart of my EP, Bloodlust, which just came out on October 24. I wrote this project coming out of a period of life that was marred by grief, death, and illness, so naturally I had a lot of heavy stuff on my mind, but I felt this overwhelming need to write some of the most upbeat and energetic songs I’ve ever written.

Sometimes it helps to grieve and sulk and sometimes you want to just roll down the windows and feel your pain casually, communally, and maybe even with the last laugh. I think there’s room on this Mixtape to do both. – Melanie MacLaren

“Wayside/Back in Time” – Gillian Welch

We like to think of a loss as these finite events, but sometimes it’s a long, steady process, the passing of time and dissolution of relationships, a slow decline of health. Loss can sometimes simply be the progression of time, and Gillian Welch’s writing is so timeless, too, that it strengthens that feeling – she could be singing from any time about any time, as long as it’s gone.

“Change” – Big Thief

Thinking of loss as simply “change” is really difficult, but at its core that’s what it is.

“Flirted With You All My Life” – Vic Chesnutt

This song is wild. I remember the first time someone played this for me on a road trip, I was smiling thinking, “Oh man, he really likes me,” and then that guitar comes in and the lyrics change tone completely and you realize the whole song is about death. It’s a funny phenomenon. You can feel the sky darkening at that moment. But then you listen to the song again with all that in mind and you still feel happy in the first half of the song. I think that’s part of the beauty of it too– knowing the ending and still being receptive to joy.

“beachball” – Dan Reeder

This is a 90-second song about a beachball that makes me bawl my eyes out. I love Dan Reeder.

“Buffalo” – Hurray for the Riff Raff

I have a soft spot for songs that talk about animals (I guess that’s why I wrote a song about Laika for my EP). I think we can talk about them in a way that we’re afraid to talk about ourselves. Their fear is our fear, but it’s hard for us to think of it that way. Asking if the love we share with each other as humans will last forever or if it will go extinct the way that some animals have, at our hands, feels really bold.

“Bloodlust” – Melanie MacLaren

This is the title track off my new EP. This whole project is me trying to make peace with the constant cycles of loss and love we all inevitably experience in our lives. They’re natural like the seasons, but they still feel so overwhelming and unnatural. It was also my attempt to experience moments of joy while not shutting out my grief and anger.

“Random Rules” – Silver Jews

Love and loss are so incredibly random that it would be funny if it didn’t matter so much to us. I always laugh a little at the first line and feel really nonchalant in a dumb way. It sounds like wearing sunglasses inside to me. But then, by the second verse, I’m fully feeling my feelings and replaying every little thing that’s gone wrong between me and every person I’ve ever cared about.

“New Partner” – Palace Music

I like to listen to this song when I’m driving alone and see who I picture in the passenger seat beside me. It changes a lot. That’s probably a good thing.

“I’ve Got a Darkness” – Mick Flannery

Mick Flannery writes the best songs. This song is such a devastating portrait of generational pain and an ode to the fact that we can feel the effects of loss and love that we’ve never experienced in our own lifetime. We carry so much with us that we’re not even aware of.

“Lake Charles” – Lucinda Williams

I love how the verses are just memories, snapshots of life, and all questions and talk of death is reserved for the chorus. It’s such a beautiful homage that way, letting someone still be alive in the song and just describing things as they were, but then still asking those bigger questions because you can’t help but ask when you’ve lost someone you love. You just hope they’re ok.

“The Arrangements” – Willi Carlisle

I love the line, “It’s still sad when bad love dies.” Amazing album with lots of songs about animals.

“Whatever Happened to Us” – Loudon Wainwright III

I love how blunt this song is and how it relies on humor in the face of loss. I heard it for the first time this summer, after I had recorded my song “Get It Back.” I immediately resonated with its matter-of-fact nature. I also love the wordplay in it; I think having fun with language is a way we as humans maintain a little bit of control of the narrative of things we don’t really have much actual agency over.

“Donut Seam” – Adrianne Lenker

There’s so much off this album that could be on this playlist. I almost went with “Sadness as a Gift,” but I really loved the way this song intertwines a dying love with the feeling that the world is dying. Even if that isn’t literal, it often feels literal. The harmony on “what it means to walk that line” makes me feel human.

“Days of the Years” – The Felice Brothers

I love how loss is naturally integrated with the mundane and the beautiful: “These are the days, of the years, of my life.” What else is there?

“Don’t Let Us Get Sick” Solo Acoustic – Warren Zevon

The simplicity of this song is so overwhelming, especially from a writer who can obviously complicate things lyrically and musically when he wants to. He just stays in this sort of The Muppet Christmas Carol arena (compliment!) and it’s so effective, because what he’s asking for is so simple. It sounds like a child’s prayer.


Photo Credit: Blaire Beamer

The Hurt Behind Nathaniel Rateliff’s ‘And It’s Still Alright’ (Part 1 of 2)

Nathaniel Rateliff’s And It’s Still Alright retains much of the soul and swagger of his work with his band the Night Sweats, but its subtler arrangements and sparser atmosphere offer more room for Rateliff to showcase his introspective side as both a songwriter and vocalist. Songs like the title track, which chronicles the aftermath of unexpected loss, and the poignant “Time Stands,” hark back to his salad days as a solo singer-songwriter while also marking his immense artistic growth over the past decade.

As his first full-length solo album in seven years, And It’s Still Alright comes on the heels of two acclaimed albums from Rateliff and the Night Sweats, both of which released via STAX Records and found the Missouri-born artist digging deeper into rock-influenced soul and R&B music.

Rateliff originally planned to make the new album alongside friend, frequent collaborator, and beloved producer Richard Swift, who died unexpectedly in July 2018 at the age of 41. Swift’s passing is a heavy presence across the LP in myriad ways, including Rateliff’s decision to record the bulk of And It’s Still Alright at Swift’s National Freedom studio in College Grove, Oregon.

Below, read part one of our conversation with Rateliff, held in the weeks leading up to And It’s Still Alright‘s release.

BGS: You’ll release And It’s Still Alright in just a couple of weeks. What are you feeling as you anticipate having this new music out in the world?

Rateliff: I’m excited. I’m excited to share it. This is kind of the first time that me and the band have done real rehearsals. [Laughs] I feel like with the Night Sweats we’d be like, “Oh, we know these songs,” and just kind of rock through them. These songs have such a different intention than that, and there’s so much more subtlety in performing them live together. It’s been an interesting yet fun challenge to figure that all out together.

Having been a few years since you last put together a project that wasn’t with the Night Sweats, what was behind your decision to move forward with another solo album this time around?

When we were making the last Night Sweats record, I had a lot of these songs that I was working on. I was sharing them with Richard. We had intended to make this record together before he passed away. So I guess I followed through on my commitment to him in making this record. We tried to do it the way we thought he would do it.

What did those early song ideas, as well as those early conversations with Richard about what you envisioned for the album, sound like? Was there a moment or a song that made the project feel like it had clicked for you?

I remember playing “All Or Nothing” — I had the chord progression for it, and some of the words; it wasn’t really done yet — and I was kind of sharing it with Richard and he was like, “Man, I love this. You can’t be too Nilsson, man.” And so I would say, “OK. We’ll see how Nilsson we can get.” That was one of the things I wanted the record, or at least some of the songs, to have, that feel and similar approach to Harry Nilsson’s. Then a lot of the songs had a lot to do with Richard passing away, and some of our similar struggles that we shared in our personal lives and in our friendship together. So it seemed fitting to follow through and make a record.

Would you be open to sharing a bit about what you were feeling after he did pass, and when you made the decision that you were going to follow through with the album? How did doing the work feel in the wake of his passing?

It’s devastating, still. I still think about Richard and miss him most days, you know? He had this amazing ability to make the people around him feel very loved. As far as a creative partner, he was my favorite person to really work with. I really hadn’t intended on working with anybody else. So a really big part of the process of making this record was to go back to his studio. It has such a sound and feel to it there, so it kind of made me feel like he was with us in some way…

The band and I had all worked a lot with Richard and kind of new some of his tricks, which he was super open and willing to show us when he was still around. We really tried to approach it like, “What would Richard do?” song-by-song. Then there’s always that point in the process when you listen to the songs and say, “OK, what is there too much of here?” and kind of strip it back. Then we added a bunch of things to it. [Laughs]

The title track is so powerful and is one of several songs I’ve found myself returning to often since first sitting down to listen through the album. What was the experience of writing that song like for you? Did it bring about any healing for you?

I had a bunch of songs that I was writing with Richard in mind. When we were in Cottage Grove making this record in March, I’d had that song and was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee in the morning and just kind of instantly wrote it all out. At first, when you’re listening to it, the words came out so naturally that you don’t really take the time to question or examine what you’re trying to express personally. There was a moment in the recording process when I was like, “Oh fuck, I can’t believe I’m writing about this.” It’s heartbreaking at first but there is an element of healing to it. Sometimes to relinquish things you just have to say them out loud.

Read Part two of our interview with Nathaniel Rateliff.


Photo credit: Rett Rogers

First Aid Kit Find Beauty in the Wreckage of Ruins

Let it be known that no pint glasses were shattered during the recording of “Hem of Her Dress,” the raucous sing-along and penultimate track on First Aid Kit’s new album, Ruins. It only sounds like there should be peals of clumsy laughter following the crash of a drink hitting the floor at the end of a rowdy night out on the final cut, and that’s exactly what Klara and Johanna Söderberg were going for when they wrote it.

“We were so drunk!” “No, we weren’t — but it sounds like it!” The sisters exchange conspiratorial chuckles when they look back on the “Hem of Her Dress” session, which had Klara serving as a conductor for the family and friends they’d assembled at producer Tucker Martine’s Portland, Oregon, studio. “I got into it,” Klara stresses, recalling how her dad, mom, and little brother — along with producer Martine and his wife, folk singer Laura Veirs — lent rounds of slurred la laaa la laaa la las to the song. (Thanks to her raspy “HERE WE GO!” before they dive in, her claim checks out.) “Dad’s played the bass on every record that we’ve done, and then our mom and Irik, they clapped and did percussion stuff on the last record. It’s nice to have a moment where they can join in.”

“Everyone in Portland was there!” Johanna adds. “Klara was kind of the choir leader. She was orchestrating everyone, mixing everyone … We decided before we were recording it that we were going to have a choir. It’s sort of inspired by Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. It’s really lo-fi, and it has this rawness to it that we really liked.”

This attraction to rawness is part of what separates Ruins from the rest of First Aid Kit’s catalog, a 10-year swath of stunning harmonies and neo-folk that includes 2012’s debut studio album, The Lion’s Roar, and 2014’s Stay Gold. But what separates “Hem of Her Dress” from the rest of Ruins is rawness of a different ilk: It’s a happy release in an unrestrained capacity, and a welcome one, too, as it follows some of the most painful and cathartic verses Klara has ever written.

Thanks to the success of The Lion’s Roar and Stay Gold — and the relentless touring in support of both albums that had them living out of suitcases for years — the Söderberg sisters found themselves far from their hometown of Stockholm, Sweden, more often than not. Klara decamped to Manchester, England, to live with her then-fiancé when the shows in support of Stay Gold eventually dissipated. But, by the time she and Johanna reunited in Stockholm and started piecing together ideas for what would eventually shape up to be Ruins, Klara’s engagement had ended and left her reckoning with the relationship in her work. This posed a new creative and emotional challenge for Klara and Johanna, as sisters and collaborators: When your sister is devastated and putting deeply personal thoughts to paper, what do you do to help — especially when you know she needs to sing through it in order to heal?

“I think it was different than previous albums, because Klara and I were just in very different places in life, and I think that was a challenge for Klara to sort of let me in,” says Johanna. “We always share, Klara and I; we’re in a family where you don’t have a lot of secrets. If you have an issue, the way to deal with it is to talk through it. Still, songwriting, I think, is more personal and more sensitive than talking. I think that it was, in a way, quite scary for Klara to share it and to let me in and let me have opinions about the songs. I had to respect that. Just because I wouldn’t go through the same things, although I can totally relate to it, I had to step back a little bit more than usual. I mean, yeah, Klara, she’s a wise lady! You can hear it on the album, her perspective and mindset, and I think it’s fascinating.”

Klara responds with an instant, appreciative “Awww!”

“The way we’ve collaborated throughout the years is, I’ve started writing songs, and then we’ve finished a lot of them together, or Joanna had input on different kinds of melodies or ideas I have, stuff like that,” she says. “For me, that’s incredibly helpful because, while I’m a creative person and I write a lot, I don’t finish a lot of stuff. So when I was starting to write, I was just writing for myself, really, and then it felt completely natural to share it. Joanna knew what I was going through. I didn’t have any secrets about that, but it was really hard. Of course, it was helpful, and I felt a lot of support, working through it and writing about it certainly helped me and gave me perspective on things.”

Ruins is rife with tributaries that spring forth from the deepest fissures of Klara’s broken heart. They flow with stark introspection and inconvenient revelations, and Klara doesn’t spare herself when looking in the rearview. The album’s opener, “Rebel Heart,” has her staring down a tendency to favor momentum at the expense of her relationship: “I don’t know what it is that makes me run, that makes me want to shatter everything that I’ve done.”

Klara and Johanna sing of frustration and longing throughout the album, but cut to the chase on “Distant Star” with lines like, “Well, a goodbye never seems finished, just like these songs that I write.” Growth is gradual and doesn’t need a deadline or permission in order to begin, and Ruins acknowledges that closure isn’t necessarily required in order for lost love to mean something. If rawness is the goal, accepting anything less than the stripped-down, naked truth is a part of achieving that, no matter how painful it is to confront it.

“There’s a lot of uncertainty, a lot of asking why,” says Klara. “I don’t necessarily think you ever have the answers to those questions, and maybe that’s okay. Our hope is that people who are going through this or have gone through it, they hear it, and feel that we’ve all been there. To me, that’s always been so helpful in my life.”

Even “Hem of Her Dress,” palpable joy and the voices of loved ones in stride, reiterates this: “I learned some things never heal with time.”


Photo credit: Lauren Dukoff

Counsel of Elders: Pegi Young

There’s no more apt summary for Pegi Young’s newest album, Raw, than the title itself. An honest songwriter through and through, she didn’t pull any punches when she faced grief head-on following the life-altering news she received in 2014: Her husband Neil was filing for divorce. The 12 songs that resulted from that kind of hurt — recorded with her band, the Survivors — move from the accusatory “Why’d You Have to Ruin My Life?” to the bare “A Thousand Years.” An electric blues guitar accentuating the latter reflects her bruise, still purple and tender, while she tries to parse out what reasons might exist for this change of heart. “Took a sip of her leftover tea. Thought about her new reality. He’s in her children’s faces. He’s in her heart and soul,” she sings, her voice edging near despondency.

But while Young allows herself to linger in the hurt, anger, and shock that defines the first half of the album, she doesn’t stay there. This is no bitter pill, but a reflection gazing outward and inward. And for all the clichés about strength that follow from such tragedies, there’s something to be said about finding the fortitude to simply get up, get out of bed, and begin the act of self-discovery once again. On “You Won’t Take My Laugh from Me,” the way Young pronounces “laugh” comes close to making a larger proclamation: “You won’t take my life from me.” While 2014 left her with different endings than she anticipated, she’s found ways to forge new beginnings. Raw ends with two covers, Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walking” and Don Henley’s “Heart of the Matter,” notes of independence and forgiveness, both of which Young applies to herself, as well as to her situation. There’s a reason she runs with a band called Survivors and, with her newest work, listeners can see why.

When did you realize you needed to write your way through this hurt?

I’ve always written, so I started writing pretty quickly. That was about all I could do for a while. I was pretty frozen. Thank goodness I had that — and have that — as an outlet.

But, from a creative standpoint, tragedy can affect output since our drive to create is so often so tied energy, motivation, etc.

I didn’t have songs per se, but I had loads of words. We went on a little tour, and then we lost our bass player, Rick Rosas. A lot of losses in 2014; it was pretty rough. Spooner Oldham and Kelvin Holly and I went back to L.A., and we holed up in a hotel room. That was in early 2014, and that’s when my words started to take the shape of songs. It was a real collaborative process. I’d never done that specifically before. I usually came into the studio to present what I wanted to try, but I’d have a skeleton of a melody. In this case, I didn’t have anything. I just had these words. I didn’t play a note on this record. I went into a depression so I didn’t play — I didn’t do a lot of things that I previously enjoyed doing — I had to climb my way out of a pretty significant depression.

That actually reminds me of what British folk singer Shirley Collins experienced after her husband left her — she lost her voice. Have you managed to find your way back to your instruments again?

I have. Yeah. We just came off a tour, and I played guitar on some songs. I have a couple of pianos here in my house. I took piano as a little girl, so I understand the keyboard in ways that I don’t really understand the guitar neck, even still. I know chords, but if I don’t know, I fish around and find something that sounds good, and bring it to Kelvin and say, “I don’t know what this is …” and he translates it for the rest of the band. My chords are a little odd, you know. [Laughs]

How lovely that you have a translator!

Oh, he’s terrific. He, in many ways, is our bandleader. Everybody’s got their niche. Our newest Survivor is Shonna Tucker.

I was so excited to hear you’d brought her into the mix.

A dynamic bass player, just really cool. Rick Rosas left some really big shoes to fill, and she stepped in, and I think he would be pleased. Plus, she’s got a beautiful voice, so her harmony vocals with me are just terrific.

What has it been like playing these songs live? Has it felt empowering?

I cherry-picked which ones I do live. Some of them are dated to me now. I liken the record to the stages of grief, but I didn’t think about that when I was writing. It takes you through — at least I believe, and I hope it translates that way to others — the journey with me. And it’s not just my journey. A lot of people go through loss and grief, whether it be from divorce or death. It’s part of the human condition; the Buddha says suffering is the first noble truth. It starts off with what may appear to be an angry song, but I look at anger as a very secondary emotion to deep hurt, so that’s where that one came from, and we don’t do that one live anymore. That feeling has gone so far into the past that I have trouble conjuring that one up. We stick with some of the other ones on the record that are more reflective. I think the record ends on a note of forgiveness.

When you talk about some of the earlier songs being angry, were you ever concerned or aware about playing into the stereotype of the scorned woman?

Well, I think that goes back to what other people think about me as being none of my business. It’s music, you know? I can’t control how people receive what I put out. I just put out what feels honest and true to me, and then how people interpret that is completely out of my control.

And the album title so perfectly summarizes your perspective anyway.

Yeah, we were pushing around for a title, and hadn’t come up with one yet. I was listening to the work we had done on a drive today — I love to listen to music in my car — and it just came to me. This record is very raw. There’s no sugar coating how I feel in this record.

I appreciate that you don’t shy away from being candid.

It took over a year to make the record. Luckily, when I was stuck and in the depression that I talked about earlier, it didn’t last. Ultimately, I believe — for me — I had to get up out of bed. I had to stop saying, as soon as I opened my eyes, “Oh, when will this day be over?”

How did you begin discovering your own strength again?

We are in control of our own happiness. Ultimately, with the help of my family, my kids, my professional support team, my friends, my siblings, everybody was there rooting for me and that really helped a lot. I had to get back up and start putting one foot in front of the other and get on with it, and ultimately accept what’s happened. Maybe not understand why … or understand fully why, I should say. In a long-term marriage, there’s always bumps. I was looking at this couple, they were in their 90s (it was an online thing), and it was “What’s the secret to your long marriage?” The man said, “A sense of humor,” which I’ve heard many many times and I agree with that, and forgiveness.

I know, but this is something no one expects to have to forgive when they get married.

Well, look, I’ve focused on forgiving myself, because there are always two parts. It’s never one person’s fault that a marriage doesn’t make it. There are things that happen in the course of a marriage, and there’s equal opportunity to take responsibility for not making it. Well, we made it to a finish line. I’m not blameless. I have to work on my own part and, in doing so, I think by forgiving myself it will definitely help in general with forgiveness all around.

It reminds me of a line you have in “Obsession” off your last album, Lonely in a Crowded Room: “It takes patience with yourself.” I’ve always appreciated that sentiment.

Yeah, that’s something I’m learning still. [Laughs]

Does it get easier?

It might be a life-long work in progress. We can all be kinda hard on ourselves. I know I tend to be really hard on myself. I strive for perfection, perhaps, but I know I’m just a human being, and we make mistakes, and we try to correct the course, and we try to do better, and that’s all we can ask of ourselves, I think.

Absolutely. You have to be kind to yourself because there’s so much expected of everyone.

And maybe women more than men, I’m not sure, because I’ve only inhabited a woman’s body, but I think maybe it’s just part of societal expectations. I’m almost in my mid-60s, and there were certain expectations placed on us. My daughter, for instance, I think she’s fairly representative of this newer generation — she’s in her early 30s — and there’s not the same expectations placed on her, in terms of roles and who does what, and how we’re supposed to be the nurturers and the caretakers. That’s a lot of work trying to take care of everybody else’s happiness! [Laughs] We really have no control over it.

Right, mothers tend to sacrifice their happiness for the sake of others.

Yeah. And not worrying about pursuing your own dreams, in terms of that being selfish. The happier a person I am, the better I am for everybody around me.

No kidding. Well, on that note, thank you for what you’ve shared on this latest album.

Thank you. I’ve been receiving really positive comments from people, when we were out playing shows. The primary feedback I was getting was that, rather than the victim or the woman scorned or whatever, it was more a message of empowerment. That’s all I could hope for: to be able to share with others my journey and that you can survive it. Speaking of: The Survivors! What a name. Who knew?

You picked it before it became necessary.

We are indeed Survivors.

WATCH: Nick Drummond, ‘Messin Up’

Artist: Nick Drummond
Hometown: Seattle, WA
Song: "Messin Up"
Album: Follow the Rivulets

In Their Words: “Messin Up” is superficially about getting my heart broken multiple times in regrettably quick succession. Everything in the song is true, and yet I don’t think that’s what the song is actually about. The lyrics are telling that story, but I think the song is looking at life more holistically — at all of the bruises and scars that we get when things don’t work out the way we had hoped. Life is a series of these 'mistakes,' I think, but they create the ripples that turn us into the vibrant creatures that we are. They make us human.” — Nick Drummond


Photo credit: Benjamin Drummond