How Jelly Roll & Lainey Wilson Connected Over Hard Realities in ‘Save Me’

It’s not something talked about much outside of creative circles, but there are few more obvious — or more effective — production techniques in modern music than the down chorus.

After establishing the singalong part of a song with a couple of refrains, dropping the instrumental energy the third time around allows the listener to keep singing while the track prepares for the big finale. It happens in songs like Dan + Shay’s “Speechless,” Michael Ray’s “Whiskey and Rain” and Lainey Wilson’s “Heart Like a Truck.”

But Jelly Roll takes the down chorus to another level in “Save Me.” There is no third chorus, so there’s no real opportunity to drop the supporting instrumentation. But for a singer to call himself a “lost cause” and announce that he’s “damaged beyond repair,” well, it’s tough to get more “down” in a chorus than that.

“Early on in my songwriting I chose connection and honesty,” Jelly Roll says. “I didn’t feel that it had to be songs that only seemed like everything was fine, especially when the songs that helped me, or that I saw help my mom the most, were songs that you felt someone was speaking to you from an honest space about something you were going through. That’s where you find connection.”

Jelly Roll really needed connection when “Save Me” came into existence. It was June 2020, when the pandemic had shut down the nation for three months. With tours canceled and plenty of unstructured free time, he desperately wanted to make some music, and he booked Nashville’s Sound Emporium for two weeks to hammer out what would become the Self Medicated album. Deep into the process, songwriter-producer David Ray (“Son of a Sinner”) picked out some basic chords to unwind a bit during downtime.

“I remember sitting in the corner, and I was just kind of noodling on the guitar,” he says. “They were looking at their phones and just kind of taking a break, and I started noodling on that song, and I just reached out, ‘Somebody save me from myself.’ And Jelly was like, ‘What is that?’ ”

That “save me” starting point became the opening line, and they chased the song down in linear fashion, each line leading to the next. Jelly Roll was admittedly immersed in vices, and “Save Me” turned into a painful confession.

“I was in the thick of it — I knew the lifestyle I was living at that moment wasn’t one that could be sustained,” he says. “I needed to make changes in my life, and it was my personal cry for help. Thankfully now I can say I’ve made a lot of positive changes, but I’m still a work in progress.”

The song unfolded initially with drawn-out phrases that established his ailing spirit, then changed textures when the drinking and smoking arrived atop insistent triplets in a mantra-like prechorus. The chorus breaks into a melodic lift, even as Jelly Roll unveils his “lost cause” admission. They crafted four lines of brokenness, but still needed four more. Instead of taking that second half of the chorus to another place, they repeated the four lines again.

Ray instinctively questioned that. “I do remember bringing that up,” Ray says. “He just felt so passionate about what those four lines said, he wanted it to be a repeat. He just wanted to drive that home.”

“Sometimes,” Jelly Roll explains, “people will hear you but not understand the gravity of what you are saying until you say it again.”

They inserted a simple, wordless melody at the close of that chorus to break from the heaviness, then moved forward again. The second verse opened with an empty sky and concluded with the singer washing away his pain, presumably with booze. And in case the listener didn’t fully understand the first time around, he repeated the mantra-like pre-chorus again, then repeated the “down” chorus. No silver lining.

They recorded it right away, with Ray playing a spacious guitar part as Jelly Roll delivered the difficult, emotional truth. His singing wasn’t perfect — some of the vocal was pitchy, and he didn’t always use full diaphragmatic support — but, like a George Jones performance, Jelly Roll’s imperfections accurately conveyed the depth of his feelings.

“I don’t know how to go beyond the compliment of Billboard saying it’s a George Jones vocal,” Jelly Roll says with a laugh. “Do we get to make that a quote? Is that on the record?”

A couple of days later, Jelly Roll did a live studio version of the song for YouTube with Stu Stapleton playing a piano part that would appear on the final version. Originally, the song had a different title until just before he released it as “Save Me.” The airy production — with Jelly Roll, Ray and Robin Raynelle singing the wordless section — would be certified platinum by the RIAA.

Once he signed with Broken Bow, Jelly Roll envisioned an alternate country rendition, and Wilson was an obvious duet partner. He called on a longtime friend, producer Zach Crowell (Sam Hunt, Dustin Lynch), to guide it, and once Jelly Roll’s team mentioned the slow-build arrangement that he’d been using on “Save Me” in concert, Crowell had a direction that made sense and alleviated some fears.

“The song was already a hit for Jelly Roll and already kind of changed his life,” Crowell says. “I was very nervous to go in and touch it.”

Guitarist Sol Philcox-Littlefield developed subtle, ethereal sounds to provide some appropriate texture, while drummer Grady Saxman waited until the second chorus to fully engage, dragging on that second prechorus in a way that underscores the despondency in Jelly Roll’s lyric. “It’s intentional, because, no offense, the original guitar part is dragging right there,” Crowell says, noting that was a fortunate imperfection. “We didn’t want to replace David Ray’s stuff because it would turn amazing and perfect.”

Crowell and Jelly Roll were both in the booth when Wilson came in to Sound Emporium to record her vocal. The enthusiasm was palpable, even if that mood is a bit counterintuitive for a heavy song. “I did a few takes and after each one, Jelly stood up behind the glass, all hype, talking about how much he loved it and pumping me up before the next take,” she remembers. “He has this way about him where he can encourage vulnerability and feeling just through his genuine excitement and the way he lifts you up.”

Their version was released to digital service providers on May 11, ahead of the Whitsitt Chapel album, and it generated an immediate response. They performed it together on NBC’s Macy’s Fourth of July Fireworks Spectacular, and country radio began playing it before the promotion department started working it, bringing it to a different audience than the rap- and rock-based following that originally took it platinum.

“Jelly has done a beautiful job of not only shedding light on his journey but giving fans a safe space within his music,” Wilson says. “Being able to reach beyond genres is a true testament to how many folks this song speaks to.”

Stoney Creek released it to terrestrial broadcasters through PlayMPE on Aug. 22, and it ranks at No. 26 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart and No. 7 on Hot Country Songs. On Sept. 7, it earned a Country Music Association Award nomination for musical event of the year. Jelly Roll’s “down chorus” has had a profound effect. Not only has the audience responded to its honesty, he used it as motivation to address the issues it laid bare.

“Seeing how the song impacted the lives of so many people almost immediately, it helped me find the strength to make the lifestyle changes I needed to make,” he says. “‘Save Me’ truly changed my life in more ways than one.”

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