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Language, like music or fashion, evolves — and as a result, the use of some words or phrases makes it look like the speaker has not.

“Groovy,” “makin’ whoopee” and “the cat’s meow” had their day, and even earlier, so did “Heavens to Betsy,” an exclamation associated with older Southern ladies that seems more appropriate for the Roaring ‘20s than the 2020s. Etymologists don’t know for certain who Betsy is or when she first arrived in the lexicon, though the phrase has been traced back to the 19^th century. Thus, word nerds can be forgiven if they’re skeptical of Jackson Dean’s new single, “Heavens to Betsy,” which sounds dated to anyone familiar with the title.

But the phrase is also old enough that many listeners may not have heard it before; Dean had not when the title first came up in a March 2021 songwriting session. “That line has never been used around me growing up or anything,” Dean notes. “I took it very literally.”

“Heavens to Betsy” came up during a March 2021 songwriting session with Benjy Davis (“The Painter,” “Made for You”) and Driver Williams (“Smoke a Little Smoke,” “Hang Tight Honey”) at Little Louder Music in Nashville. Williams floated the “Heavens to Betsy” title, assuming they could give it a classic sort of twist.

“My original thought was more country and lighter,” Williams recalls. “In subject matter, it was more like, you know, this girl named Betsy doesn’t need all the finer things in life. She just needs a home and a good man. That’d be Heaven to Betsy.”

That only worked, though, if they could shave the “s” off “Heavens,” but without that one letter, it no longer referenced the original phrase. Dean’s literal interpretation took it in a different direction – he pictured a father in Heaven communicating with his daughter, Betsy, via walkie-talkie or C.B. radio. They all found that idea intriguing.

“It had to be dark,” Williams says, “because whoever was in Heaven, you know, he’s obviously dead. And it’s just like, ‘Man, how dark can we get with this?’ And we went really dark with it.”

The title became the opening line. Davis started strumming a guitar as the father reveals just enough in the first verse to let a first-time listener know the protagonist is communicating to someone about a drinking problem that “put you through hell.” That brooding stanza then opened into a brighter-sounding chorus that fully reveals the man is reaching out from the afterlife.

“I feel like the verses are the apology,” Davis says. “The chorus is sort of like the redemption, trying to make good on it.”

Verse 2 gave even more character clues, recalling a memory of Betsy when she was “knee high to a stump” – another dated phrase that was new, this time, to Davis. He injected a line about pink rain boots that made that verse even more vivid while drawing on his own past.

“I lived next to a family with some kids, and one day, the dad’s truck stopped showing up,” Davis remembers. “Over time, it became obvious that they were having some sort of issues. But [pink rain boots], that’s a really, really specific image. But that’s kind of what I had.”

Dean related to father abandonment from his own experience. “Both of my best friends growing up slept on my couch for probably two years, on and off,” he says. “I remember Dylan’s dad never being in the picture until we were 16, 17 years old, so I had that little bit of connection with it. And I’ve seen so many situations like that.”

“Heavens To Betsy” came together quickly, though it took longer for the sound to fully evolve. They cut a guitar/vocal work tape that day. Dean would later bring the song to Boy Named Banjo banjoist Barton Davis, who brought a bluegrass undercurrent to it. Dean later worked it up again with his band, who gave it an edgier sound that Williams compares to Kings of Leon.

Dean’s performance of “Betsy” on the 2023 album Live at the Ryman received play on SiriusXM’s The Highway and emerged as a fan favorite. Thus, as Dean went to work on his next album – On the Back of My Dreams, due Sept. 6 – Big Machine Label Group president/CEO Scott Borchetta suggested he record a studio version. Producer Luke Dick (Miranda Lambert, Little Big Town) assembled a group of session players to re-cut it last fall at Nashville’s Blackbird Studios, intent on keeping the same slow-building spirit as the Ryman release.

“I had worked loosely with Jack on the live record,” Dick says. “I was familiar with the arrangement, and when they said they wanted to record it, I felt like the arrangement had an energy to it that I didn’t want to stray too far from or rethink what should be or shouldn’t be. It already had movement to it that I liked.”

After attempting it first with a metronome-like click track, they dropped that crutch and let drummer Fred Eltringham carve out the rhythm and pace in conjunction with Dean’s vocals. The track gets just a hair faster as it evolves, reflecting the intensity as Dean and the musicians worked together.

“I love when Jack is in a booth with a song that he has played a lot, a song that he knows in his bones,” Dick says. “That allows him to emote on the day and to communicate with the band without speaking. That’s what I feel like was the most compelling thing about recording that song is Jack being able to get his visceral energy into the song. It’s what you’re shooting for as a producer.”

The end product splices parts of that recording with previous versions. Studio guitarist Rob McNelley’s slide guitar solo was melded with a solo previously played by Dean’s road guitarist, Brandon Aksteter. Dean recorded his final vocal this spring, emphasizing the distinctions between the verses’ heavy mystery and the chorus’ hopeful promise.

“I wanted the changes to be not only noticed, but drastically felt,” he says. “You get to right after the first chorus and you get to the hold, and then you drop right into the second [verse], it’s a completely different dynamic change. And then you get to the build, I mean, all those changes are physically moving you.”

Big Machine released “Heavens To Betsy” to country radio via PlayMPE on Aug. 2 with an Aug. 19 add date, with high expectations. Dean had it edited for broadcasters, snipping a reflective ending so that it ends cold on an ascendant high note. It’s a sonic cliffhanger, mirroring the dramatic uncertainty in the “Betsy” plot. It’s a twist that, unlike fashion or language, rarely grows old.

“Every PD in the country that I’ve ever been in contact with has heard that song and knows it and has asked me about it,” Dean says. “It kind of seems like a no-brainer: Just give them what they want and see what this does for the people.”