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As Columbia Nashville prepared for the July 12 release of Megan Moroney’s sophomore album, Am I Okay?, the label held back the title track as it rolled out individual songs in advance of the project.

The move was purposeful: The title matches the reputation she has built with her fan base, and she wanted to catch listeners off guard the first time they heard it.

“I’ve branded myself as the emo cowgirl, and so I knew everyone was going to think that this is going to be a really sad song,” she says. “If you just see it on paper, you’re like, ‘Oh, no, it’s going to be tough.’ And that’s why we didn’t release ‘Am I Okay,’ the title track, ahead of the album, because I wanted everyone to be surprised once the entire album came out.”

The fans would not be the only ones surprised by “Am I Okay?” Her co-writers, Jessie Jo Dillon (“Messed Up As Me,” “10,000 Hours”) and Luke Laird (“Drink in My Hand,” “Undo It”), hadn’t expected to work on something so optimistic. Moroney, in fact, was a little apologetic when she spoke her mind during an appointment at Laird’s writing cabin on Oct. 2, 2023.

“When I was explaining how I felt, I was like, ‘Yeah, I want to write a love song,’” she recalls. “Like, ‘I’m tired of writing sad songs. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I met this guy, and he’s being really nice to me, and for once, I don’t want to sabotage it. And I think I could be a girlfriend.’ And they were just like, ‘Oh my God, are you okay?’”

That, of course, became the title. The bright, upbeat topic helped meet her musical goals, too. Moroney knew she would be touring with Kenny Chesney in 2024, and she wanted a song that would feel good in a stadium. Laird called up a chugging track he had created around a floating guitar intro, and he believed it would fit her musically.

“She delivers a song so well with just her and a guitar,” he says. “I thought this one will be easy to do that way, too. There’s only, like, three chords. It’s simple. It’s in her key. And she liked it. And I think that it kind of brought an energy to the room, like more of a live thing.”

They attacked the chorus first, capturing the moment Moroney’s then-new squeeze had appeared in a Nashville bar where she had been hanging with some friends. They threw out some descriptors of a guy that most women would find intriguing — 6 feet 2, funny, smart and “good in…” The songwriter antenna went up at that moment, though it only lasted an instant: Would saying he’s good in bed play at radio? On TV? In family settings?

They had the solution before they even discussed it. “We were just rambling,” Moroney notes. “I was probably like, ‘He’s funny and he’s smart and he’s good in…’ And then Jessie Jo or Luke just echoed me. And I was like, ‘Oh, that’s cool.’ There wasn’t too much thought behind it.”

“Instead of just saying it,” Dillon adds, “that felt flirtier, in a way, to just repeat it.”

It wound its way to the final hook — “Oh my God, am I okay?” — kicked out in punchy phrases that seemed right for a gang vocal. Which Moroney didn’t entirely accept at first. “I wasn’t exactly sold on the gang vocals yet,” she recalls. “The last seven syllables of the song are the same note. I was like, ‘Is that weird?’”

As they dug in on the verses, they led with the singer checking to make sure she’s really breathing, a recognition of the change in personality that this new guy had inspired. “I’ve been playing less black keys, baby,” they wrote in that first verse, alluding to the sharps and flats on a piano keyboard, which create an alternative musical scale on their own.

“It’s alluding to writing less sad music,” Dillon says. “I feel like that was [about] being less emo and writing [fewer] sad songs because she’s known for some of her sad songs as much as ‘Tennessee Orange.’ ”

One of Moroney’s managers later capitalized Black Keys on a lyric sheet, believing it to be a reference to the Nashville-based rock band. That development surprised all three writers, who had not contemplated that interpretation.

“I’m a huge Black Keys fan, and their s–t can be pretty emo,” Dillon says. “Their lyrics can be pretty sad — and so I guess either way somebody interprets that, it kind of works.”

In verse two, Moroney sang, “And wait” — then literally waited before continuing, “There’s guys that can communicate.” It was clearly sarcastic; if listeners had any doubt that this “fun little bop,” as Dillon calls it, belonged to Moroney, that confirms it’s legitimately her. “She’s definitely a little snarky,” Laird says, “but the delivery gives it a lightness. I thought it was good.”

Laird finished the demo with the pulsing guitars creating a new wave feel, and all three of them did the gang vocals at the end of the chorus. It provided a solid template for the full recording, produced by Sugarland’s Kristian Bush at Nashville’s Blackbird Studio in January. The musicians bumped up the tempo a few beats per minute, but mostly followed Laird’s demo as a guide. With real musicians replacing some of the programmed elements, it took on more of a Tom Petty pulse, while Jordan Schipper’s steel guitar upped the country quotient. The steel, Brandon Bush’s keyboards and some of Benji Shanks’ guitar tones leaned hazy or fuzzy.

“I’m totally into ambient pedals right now,” Kristian says. “You don’t really know what you’re getting. You put a tone into it, like you’ll play your steel into it, or you play the guitar into it and it’s a very Brian Eno-y thing, where it starts to sort of randomize at certain frequencies the sound that’s coming out of it. You can control it with your hands, like on these knobs, but it’s all kind of voodoo. It becomes dreamy very quickly.”

Bush heightened the dynamic range; the track goes quiet when Moroney sings “Wait…,” and it nearly does it again at the bridge. At the finale, the instruments drop out as she delivers the last line, “I think I’m still breathing.” She could have followed it with a sigh, but it never quite appears.

“At the end of this song, when it cuts off, I wanted you to be waiting for the next song to happen,” Kristian says. “When you’re playing live, at the end of that first song, you want people to be like, ‘Is it over? What’s happening? Oh my God.’ And then all of a sudden, you’re into your next song.” The vocals challenged Moroney. Ironically, the week she sang about her boyfriend, they broke up.

“I’m in the studio having to sing this song about a guy being really nice to me, when actually it was just like three months and he showed me who he actually was,” she says. “And now I have to sing this forever.”

She just might. Columbia Nashville released it to country radio via PlayMPE on Aug. 5. It’s at No. 20 and rising on the Hot Country Songs chart dated Sept. 28. Even if it’s uncharacteristically buoyant for Moroney, the sarcasm still comes through.

“If I’m writing a love song, I must be ill,” she says. “That’s the whole premise of the song.”