genre country
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I recently had the opportunity to testify before Congress about the NO FAKES Act of 2025 — a landmark effort to protect human voices and likenesses from being cloned by artificial intelligence without consent.
I started singing when I was four years old and have used my voice throughout my career to amplify lyrics that I believe in. Each recording reflects pieces of my individuality and artistry that have evolved throughout my life.
My recordings reflect my human experience, and I am honored that they are a part of people’s lives — from wedding vows to breakups, to celebrating milestones and even the special relationship between a mother and daughter.
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But today, my voice and likeness, along with so many others, are at risk. AI technology is amazing and can be used for so many wonderful purposes. But like all great technologies, it can also be abused when it is harnessed to steal people’s voices and likenesses to defraud families, manipulate the images of young girls, impersonate government officials or pose as artists like me.
It’s mind-blowing that we must even question that our voices and likenesses should be our own to control. It’s scary and unquestionably wrong.
I was so gratified with the commitment of the bipartisan group of Senators I testified before last week in DC to deal with deepfake images by supporting the NO FAKES Act, which would prevent the theft of someone’s voice or likeness to harm, harass, bully or defraud them or others, and damage our careers, reputations and values.
The NO FAKES Act gives every person the power to say “yes” or “no” about how their most personal human attributes are used.
In Congress, I was asked about the impact of unauthorized deepfakes on the careers and livelihoods of young artists — and that impact can be immense. Every performer in our business must establish early in their career who they are and what they stand for, creatively, artistically and personally. That is how we build connections with our fans. But if bad actors can invade that artist-fan bond and distort the story a young artist tells the world about who they are, many careers could be lost before they truly get started. And that’s a problem that goes beyond the arts — unconsented deepfakes and voice clones rob every person of the ability to speak their own truth and tell their own story.
The NO FAKES Act also supports innovation by providing a roadmap for how these powerful tools can be developed responsibly. And it doesn’t stand in the way of protected uses like news, parodies, or criticism. Thanks to technology companies like OpenAI and Google who support this bill, as well as the legions of creators who have worked so hard to advocate for it (nearly 400 of us last week endorsed it here), and the child protection and anti-sex-trafficking and exploitation groups who support it and continue to fight for those who are most vulnerable, we have a real chance of it becoming law this year.
It has been a special honor to record songs that shine a light on the battles many women fight, especially domestic violence. Fans have shared with me that “Independence Day” has given them strength, and in some cases, the song has been the catalyst that has made them realize they need to leave an abusive situation.
Imagine the harm an AI deepfake could do breaching that trust, using my voice in songs that belittle or justify abuse. Or the devastation of a fan, scammed by a deepfake voice clone impersonating me or any artist they trust, into handing over their hard-earned money to a fraudster. Or my voice and/or likeness being used to promote a product that may be subpar at best, and harmful at worst. And while this isn’t the part that I am an expert on, knowing AI is being used to deepfake and manipulate young girls in ways that can devastate and ruin their lives is especially troubling. As a mother, an artist and a human being who cares about others — I ask you to join in the fight to stop that kind of betrayal.
Passing the NO FAKES Act will set us on the right path to develop the world’s best AI while preserving the sacred qualities that make our country so special — authenticity, integrity, humanity and our endlessly inspiring spirit.
Martina McBride is an award-winning country music singer who has charted seven top 10s on the Billboard 200 and landed 21 songs on the Hot 100 in her career, and been nominated for 14 Grammys. She’s also a four-time CMA Female Vocalist of the Year and three-time ACM Top Female Vocalist winner, and in 2019 was honored with the ACM’s Icon Award.
Chris Stapleton‘s signature bluesy-rock guitar licks might be fiery, but his hot chicken order? Perhaps not so much. As part of a cover story for Billboard‘s Country Power Players issue, Stapleton and actor Josh Brolin spent time at the musician’s studio in Nashville, but also took time to eat at Hattie B’s Hot Chicken, one […]
Country music has a long lineage of female familial acts, including The Carter Sisters, The Judds, SheDaisy, The Mandrell Sisters, The Pointer Sisters, Tigirlily Gold and Chapel Hart.
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Now, Georgia-born sister trio The Castellows is fast making its own modern mark on the genre, blending ethereal harmonies with acoustic-driven, rootsy instrumentation and lyrics informed by the siblings’ rural upbringing. The Balkcom sisters — lead singer/bassist and guitarist Lily, banjoist Powell and guitarist Ellie—will release their seven-song EP, Homecoming, Friday (May 30). The set builds upon their 2024 debut EP A Little Goes a Long Way and their three-song EP Alabama Stone, which also released that year.
The trio’s brand of folk-country comes at a time when roots-oriented sounds from artists such as Tyler Childers, Noah Kahan, Zach Bryan and Sam Barber are again in the limelight.
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“That’s just the kind of stuff we love — and if we had to do anything different, we probably wouldn’t be doing this,” Lily says.
The sisters, who were homeschooled, grew up on a cattle farm in rural Georgetown, Georgia and discovered their affinity for music early.
“Music was our extracurricular activity,” Ellie says. “I played piano first and we started picking up instruments. We were a glorified Mumford and Sons cover band. Lots of random folk songs, lots of Tyler Childers.”
They performed at churches and hometown events, but had no plans to pursue music professionally. While attending the University of Georgia, Ellie earned a degree in information management systems and Powell a degree in agriculture business.
Lily followed her dreams by earning a pilot’s license. “I had my pilot’s license when I was 17 and I was working on my instrument commercial [license] when I moved up to Nashville, but I’ve been flying since I was 16. I want my own plane one day,” she says.
They took on their great-grandmother’s maiden name as their group name, and in 2022 began posting covers of hits such as Tyler Halverson’s “Beer Garden Baby” and Childers’ “Universal Sound” on Instagram and TikTok. Labels soon came calling. They signed a deal with Warner Records and Warner Music Nashville in May 2023, then moved to Nashville in July of that year, signing with Luke Combs’ manager, Chris Kappy.
They have focused on songs that lean on imagery derived from their rural Georgia roots, such as on their debut song “No. 7 Road,” about strolling down the same dirt road their grandfather walked down, or the shimmering “Sheltered” from their new Homecoming EP.
“I feel like the way we grew up has had such an impact on our songs and what we write about,” Lily says. “We grew up homeschooled on a farm, so farm life and family are something that is so familiar to us. It’s something that we love and that we always want to write about, and it’s a lot of who we are and our identity. I love being able to tie our background in agriculture and the farm and where we come from with our music and our career.”
Along the way, they’ve also teamed with Wyatt Flores for the song “Sober Sundays,” and with Colby Acuff for “How Do I Feel Alive.” The Castellows co-wrote every song on the Homecoming EP, working with fellow writers Erik Dylan, Daniel Tashian and Casey Beathard, among others.
“We know how special this town is, with the writing community here,” Ellie says of Nashville. “It’s unlike any music town in the whole world. Just knowing the pool of talent here, we feel like we’ve become better writers by surrounding ourselves with top writers — kind of the whole iron-sharpens-iron thing. We just love the writing community here, and some of our sweetest friends are writers who we met when we first moved to town.”
Coming up, they will open for Thomas Rhett on his Better in Boots tour, in addition to spearheading their own The Homecoming Tour. “We actually have a tour bus for this upcoming Thomas Rhett tour, which is our first ever bus,” Ellie says.
The Castellows, Billboard’s May Country Rookie of the Month, open up about the Homecoming EP, recording with Flatland Cavalry and more below.
“Homecoming” is the title track. Why do you feel like that song encapsulates the feel of this EP?
Lily: We’ve been playing it live for almost two years now, so that song has really become part of our identity. To me, this project is songs about us being on tour, songs about the world and how you view the past, present and future. “Homecoming” captured it best. And it’s funny because the word “homecoming” is nowhere in the song “Homecoming.”
Why did you include your version of Patty Loveless’ “You Don’t Even Know Who I Am”?
Powell: You almost don’t even want to dare touch her work, because it’s just perfect as it is. But we were in our hometown shooting some videos in a silo, and I was like, “The acoustics here are really good. Do y’all want to try to sing a chorus of ‘You Don’t Even Know Who I Am’?” I feel like the first time we heard it in that silo, we were like, “Oh, this is meant to be sung with harmony.”
And there’s a male singing harmony under Patty in her version. It’s obviously beautiful, but I feel like with this song, it’s almost a bit more powerful when there’s three women singing it. And I feel like our generation hasn’t really heard this song, so we wanted to hopefully introduce it to younger people.
You also bring in Flatland Cavalry, whom you share a management company with, for “Place They Call Home.” What was it like working with them?
Ellie: That was one of the most special moments we’ve ever had, because [Powell] and I saw Flatland our freshman year of college, before we had ever even written our first song. We were the first ones in line, and we’ve been fans of them for so long. When we had the opportunity to write with [Flatland Cavalry frontman] Cleto Cordero — we were freaking out because we are such fans of them. We could have maybe just gotten Cleto on it, but it felt like the song had the Flatland Cavalry spirit in it, so we waited to line up everyone’s schedules so we could go to Austin and record it with all of them.
It’s been two years since you signed your label deal. What has been the best career advice you’ve gotten from other artists?
Lily: We are big fans of the Avett Brothers, and we ended up opening for them at their annual New Year’s Eve Show. When we met them, they were like, “Don’t take yourself too seriously” — which was good advice because as female artists, you can get caught up in how you look onstage and what you’re wearing. You can kind of break yourself down pretty easily, and at the end of the day, we’re playing music for a living and this is the music business. If you’re not having fun, you’re doing it wrong.
What is a song you wish you had written?
Lily: We have a playlist called “Songs I Wish I Had Written.” Some of the hotspots on it are “Russell County Line” by 49 Winchester, “Boulder to Birmingham” by Emmylou Harris, “Bluebird” by Miranda Lambert, “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young and Turnpike Troubadours’ “Diamonds and Gasoline.”
Who are the songwriters on your co-writing bucket list?
Ellie: We had a great write last week with a bucket-list writer. We wrote with Ashley Gorley. That was very cool. Writing with some of the legacy heroes like Robert Earl Keen or Steve Earle would be cool.
What is a book or podcast you are into right now?
Lily: I’m trying to read all of the Brontë Sisters books this year.
Powell: I’m reading the Count of Monte Cristo, but I have an Ag [agriculture] business degree, so I listen to Cattle Chat podcasts, too.
Asking for a commitment, we’re told, will scare a man away. And if that’s true, then young men, who have the bulk of their lives ahead of them, should be particularly frightened. Why, they may ask themselves, should I get tied down now?
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So it’s amusing to hear Ty Myers, at age 17, vow to a woman to be hers “’til the end of the Earth.” Say it again: 17 years old, singing about forever. Seems unusual, right?
“Guys my age definitely think in that way,” Myers insists. “They just don’t tell people they’re thinking in that way because they know it’s probably stupid to think in that way.”
Stupid because, well, maybe they’re wrong. Maybe they’re misreading the signals. Maybe everyone else’s opinion carries some weight. “You talk to girls, you feel something, you don’t really know exactly what you’re feeling,” Myers explains. “You’re like, ‘Well, you know, this is my first time doing this. Maybe it is, you know, [love]. And so you kind of start thinking in that way. You tell your friends, and your friends say you’re an idiot.”
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“Ends of the Earth,” a song Myers says is mostly “based on true events,” arrived before classmates had the chance to share their opinions. He was uncertain where he stood with a girl — “[It’s] that cat-and-mouse game where you’re running after somebody,” he says — and he went to work on a song about it in his bedroom late at night, playing an electric guitar plugged into a Spark Practice Amp, ideal for muted situations.
“That volume knob never stares at you like it does at 2 a.m.,” Myers says.
He launched into simple arpeggios in 6/8 time, emulating a Stax soul ballad. Myers had the title, “Ends of the Earth,” and he wove his way toward its payoff line, ricocheting between images of his room — starting with the “silence of the speakers” — and the object of his affection. The story was sweet, but it took a turn at the pre-chorus as the singer confessed his anger. They could get “so damn close,” then she would pull away — her lack of commitment was tearing at his nerves.
It set up a bigger-sounding chorus. The melody hit a higher peak while the words turned to pleading. If the “Ends of the Earth” title wasn’t fully clear, he promised to follow her “where the horizon meets the sunrise.”
“If you’re going to the ends of the Earth, that implies that there’s an end to the Earth — which, I’m not a flat-Earther,” he says. “Personally, I believe the Earth is round, which would mean that there’s no end, right? But if the Earth was flat, which is kind of what I’m alluding to in the song, then that would mean that the horizon would be the end. So in my mind, I was thinking where the horizon meets the sunrise. That’s where I’ll go to follow you.”
Of course, with the Earth being round, chasing her to the horizon is a never-ending pursuit.
The mix of sensibilities continued in verse two. After initially toying with a line about Sunday, Myers made her “The whole sundae /And the cherry on top.” Again, the sweetness didn’t last; just a few lines later, the singer’s heart is “broken on the floor.” Another chorus would carry it from there — the guy remains in limbo by the end of the song, still willing to follow as long as she lets him.
Myers made a simple work tape, singing along with electric guitar, and he sent it off to producer Brandon Hood (Mackenzie Carpenter, Troy Cartwright) just a couple of days before their first session together at Nashville’s Starstruck Studios. The short window from conception to recording set a precedent for their working relationship. “All the songs he writes and brings in, he writes them just a few days before we cut them,” Hood says.
“That’s kind of his MO. It’s like The Beatles, almost — not trying to compare him to The Beatles, but it’s got that kind of innocence. There’s no label people involved, there’s no publishers involved, and most of the songs he’s writing 100% by himself.”
Their game plan for Myers’ recordings was particularly appropriate for a song that hints at “forever.”“We were trying to stamp a little bit of the timeless thing in there,” Hood says. “That’s the thing with Ty, the thing that I think connects the two of us more than anything: He wants to be somebody that’s not date-stamped.”
Myers played “Ends of the Earth” acoustically at the session for the band: bassist Mark Hill, drummer Chris McHugh, keyboardist Gordon Mote, guitarists Tom Bukovac and Kris Donegan and steel guitarist Bruce Bouton. They initially tried to take it in that same acoustic direction, but it didn’t quite have the right level of grit. They tried several other approaches, too, but ultimately landed on their own version of the Stax-style production that Myers had employed when he wrote it in his bedroom. They added a couple of chords to the chorus to create a little more movement, but still kept the arrangement simple and spacious.
“It wasn’t going to be something where we needed a wall of guitars and a wall of noise behind him,” Hood says. “The things he referenced were all very open-sounding records. I find it, as a producer, a lot more challenging to leave the space open than filling it, but I really do think it’s made him stick out a little bit more, and that’s to his own credit.”
Myers sang live with the band, sounding more adult than his 17 years and helping to heighten the tension embedded in the “Ends of the Earth” story. His performance from that session formed the bulk of the final vocal track, though he did some touch-up work at a later date. Hood would overdub a guitar solo, played with a country flare to offset the track’s blues sound, and Trey Keller provided backing vocals.
“Ends of the Earth” played well when RECORDS Nashville/Columbia sent it out into the real world on Oct. 18, 2024. It scored heavy airplay on SiriusXM’s The Highway and earned an RIAA-certified gold single on April 3. When the label decided to promote it to terrestrial country radio, an edited version was in order, trimming it from its original 4:30 length. Hood scrapped the pre-chorus, cut his own guitar solo and slashed half of the second verse, eliminating the sundae part of the lyrics while paring it to 3:23 just days before its April 10 release via PlayMPE.
Ultimately, the romantic tension in “Ends of the Earth” is familiar, and its mix of country and classic soul made it easy for Myers and the label to commit to it as he starts his relationship with broadcasters.
“There’s something about a song where you can sit down and not strain your head thinking about it,” he says. “You can just sit down and kind of relax to it. And I think that’s where ‘Ends of the Earth’ shines.”
On May 5, 2015 when Mercury Records/Universal Music Group Nashville released Chris Stapleton’s solo debut album, Traveller, those close to the project knew it was a potent collection of heartfelt songs executed by a once-in-a-generation voice, yet no one could have imagined the career juggernaut it would become, including claiming the No. 1 spot on Billboard’s Top Country Albums of the 21st Century chart.
Stapleton was a well-respected talent, known for penning hits for Kenny Chesney, Luke Bryan and Josh Turner, as well as fronting Grammy-nominated bluegrass outfit The SteelDrivers and Southern rock band The Jompson Brothers. However, when Traveller arrived, the Kentucky native had yet to gain any traction as a solo artist, including with previous single, 2013’s “What Are You Listening To.”
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“Traveller came from a place of frustration,” former CEO/chair of Universal Music Group Nashville Cindy Mabe says. “Chris had written a lot of songs and done a radio promo tour only to find that he wasn’t getting any support. People knew he was this incredible vocalist, but they had no idea what to do with him.
“In the midst of all of that, his father passed away in October 2013. Chris decided to make an entirely different album based on the songs he had been writing over the 15 years he had been in Nashville,” Mabe continues. “He took a step away from everything. [His wife] Morgane bought Chris an old Jeep and they decided to take a trip across the country and drive the Jeep back. Along the way, Chris wrote the song ‘Traveller,’ which gave birth to one of the most iconic albums in the last 40 years. It helped frame the album Chris wanted to make for himself and his dad. It wasn’t chasing what was currently happening but bringing back what he loved about country music.”
The deeply personal and soulful Traveller has become a landmark album, and the story of that fateful drive from Phoenix to Nashville has become country music lore. “Our dear friend Becky Fluke is an incredible videographer and photographer, and it was something the three of us had talked about doing for quite a while,” Morgane Stapleton tells Billboard. “Becky said, ‘In 20 years you’re going to want to have this,’ but it was really mainly just three friends taking a trip and Chris getting some head-clearing space.”
In the summer of 2014, Chris and Morgane, along with co-producer Dave Cobb, Stapleton’s drummer Derek Mixon and bassist J.T. Cure, and special guests Mickey Raphael on harmonica and Robby Turner on pedal steel guitar entered RCA’s famed Studio A in Nashville. Armed with some of the most compelling songs in Stapleton’s catalog, they proceeded to record Traveller, while the studio was under threat of developers planning to take a wrecking ball to the historic site.
That November, Stapleton performed with Justin Timberlake on the Country Music Association Awards and their mesmerizing medley of Stapleton’s cover of David Allan Coe’s “Tennessee Whiskey” and Timberlake’s “Drink You Away” changed Stapleton’s career. “Tennessee Whiskey,” penned by Dean Dillon and Linda Hargrove, hit No. 1 on Hot Country Songs and Traveller finally reached No. 1 on Top Country Albums six months after its release (after initially debuting at No. 2). A decade later, Traveller is still on the chart, having logged more than 523 weeks on that list. By the end of the year, it will likely surpass Willie Nelson’s 1978 album Stardust’s record of 551 weeks as the longest run on the chart.
In all new interviews, those closest to Stapleton and the project recall the creative journey.
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Brian Wright, former executive vp of A&R, UMG Nashville: I was doing A&R and got Chris a few songwriting cuts [with] Josh Turner and George Strait. That’s how we became friends. Publishers would play me their latest and greatest songs, and somebody played me a Chris demo. I called Chris and said, “Hey buddy, do you want to go to lunch?” We talked about family, kids, life. We get up to leave and I have no idea why or what my intention, but I said, “It’s time for you to make a country record.” He said, “Are you offering me a record deal?” I said, “Yeah,” and that’s how the whole thing started. I just wanted to make a record. I didn’t care if it was commercial. I just wanted the world to hear Chris Stapleton.
Before Traveller, Stapleton initially worked with producer Tony Brown, a Nashville legend who played piano for Elvis Presley and has produced The Oak Ridge Boys, Reba McEntire, Vince Gill and George Strait, among many others. Brown will be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame this fall.
Morgane Stapleton: Tony is an icon, but what was interesting is when Chris recorded with Tony, he did not play guitar, acoustic or electric. So much of his sound — and what people enjoy about Chris’ music is [his guitar]. I know him better than anybody, and when he sings without a guitar in his hand, it’s very different. He just embodies music differently. If he’s not holding a guitar or playing an instrument on a song, it’s almost like he’s not whole. [With Tony] we used Nashville session guys, and all those guys are brilliant, but I think what makes Chris’ sound unique to him is that musicianship that we share.”
Wright: What Tony cut was really, really good, but I think once we had Traveller it was like a wheel where you have the hub and you start making spokes. We weren’t just trying to cut four radio songs and we’ll just throw six other songs on there. Every song was thought through: “What do you want to say? What else do you want to say?”
Derek Mixon, drummer: Chris decided he wanted to put a band together and go out on the road and [try out songs for what would become Traveller] for about a year and then make a record. He called me out of the blue one day — probably based on J.T.’s recommendation — and we went from there. It was probably late 2013 or early 2014.
J.T. Cure, bassist: Prior to going into the studio, the band consisted of me, Chris, Morgane and Derek Mixon. We would get together at Chris and Morgane’s house and start working on the songs and arrangements that would eventually become Traveller. So, we were all pretty familiar with the songs going into it.
Dave Cobb, co-producer: The first time I heard Chris sing, I was living in Los Angeles at the time and this guy played me the SteelDrivers. I’m like, “Oh my God! What a voice,” and I always wanted to work with him. Then he heard Sturgill Simpson’s [Cobb-produced] High Top Mountain, and we had a meeting. We found out we had exactly the same bad habits — guitars, old cars and country music. We just hit it off. Brian Wright had been kind enough to give us a budget to cut some songs. I give so much credit to Brian of being the ultimate supporter. He came in, heard some stuff and said, “Keep going.” We felt like kids getting away with something we weren’t supposed to be doing. It was an amazing opportunity to get to go into the studio, especially RCA Studio A.
Mixon: No question that recording in that studio impacted what we were doing, just knowing all the music that had happened in that room. It’s really mind boggling when you think about all the great records that were recorded there and all the legendary artists, musicians and producers and songwriters that had passed through that room. It’s such a heavy feeling knowing that you are tied in with that now. It is a very magical place, and it inspires creativity.
Morgane Stapleton: We would’ve been the last record made in there, and I think that was part of the charge in the air for sure. How could [Nashville] be about to tear down this most sacred of places? That was definitely felt. It was like a presence in the room with us for sure. But then, of course, they came in and at the last minute saved the day.
Vance Powell, engineer/mixer: I believe Chris liked the sound of High Top Mountain and asked Dave to get me on [Traveller]. I appreciate every day that Dave, Chris and Morgane called on me to be a part of this. It’s two-and-a-half weeks of our life that changed our lives and the country music industry.
During recording, there was one day RCA Studio A wasn’t available, and Stapleton and crew moved to The Castle to record “Daddy Doesn’t Pray Anymore” and “Might As Well Get Stoned.”
Cobb: I remember very vividly cutting “Daddy Doesn’t Pray Anymore” at the Castle. I remember walking out and it was so pretty outside. I had a guitar in my hand and it sounded amazing out there, I remember convincing Chris and the guys to record outside. The lyrics and his performance are so incredible. Sometimes you hear things that sound like a record going down. That was one of them.
Mixon: “Daddy Doesn’t Pray Anymore” might have been a first take because I don’t think any of us could get through it more than once. My dad had just passed away about a year prior to that and so that was a tough one for me. It was a bittersweet memory recording that, but I remember the sound at the Castle was just incredible. I remember setting the microphones up on the porch out there for guitars and vocals. We decided to open up the doors and let nature in. On “Might As Well Get Stoned,” you can hear the locusts in the beginning when the guitar cranks up.
Morgane Stapleton: Recording “More of You” back at RCA was one of my most favorite moments. Chris played mandolin and we sat in a room together, all of us, and it was completely live. I had never done harmony vocals live with anybody in a recording studio and Dave was adamant that our vocals should go down at the same time. It was nerve-racking and it really pushed me out of what was my comfort zone at the time, but staring at Chris, it just felt like the most magical love song.
Mixon: [Album closer] “Sometimes I Cry” was recorded after the bulk of Traveller was recorded. We went back in a month or two later and recorded that song in one take in front of an audience at RCA Studio A. We had rehearsed it a few times before, but then the day of, we were in a circle in the middle of the studio. We set up and got levels. The audience came in and we played the song one time and that’s what you hear on the record.
Mabe: Chris had fans that were lifelong fans even before this album. We filmed the fans telling their stories of why they loved the live shows and how far they’d drive. Chris drove a Ram truck, and Ram ultimately helped us tell the story through Chris’ own voice and words. His first performance of “Tennessee Whiskey” was on The View. It instantly translated to sales off that performance, and we knew he needed more TV, but were still convincing people because he didn’t have a radio hit. Despite that, [the album] debuted at No. 2 and sold 27,000 units, which made us know we were on to something big. That was a really big number to hit without a radio hit to drive it.
At the 2015 CMA Awards on Nov. 4, Stapleton won album of the year for Traveller, as well as male vocalist and new artist of the year. But more than the trophies he collected, he’ll be remembered for his performance with Timberlake.
Mixon: I remember this sort of electric feeling, even in rehearsal. I felt we were on the verge of something that was really cool. I don’t think anybody could have ever predicted the impact that it had.
Robert Deaton, CMA Awards executive producer: It’s arguably the most famous moment on the CMA Awards. There have been great moments from Dolly [Parton] doing “He’s Alive” to Martina McBride doing “Independence Day,” but what set this performance apart is we all knew who those people were. This was a coming out party for Chris Stapleton. Because he was in the SteelDrivers, people in Nashville knew who he was, but for the most part he was being introduced to a national audience. I’ve never experienced anything like this before in that it literally sucked the wind out of the room for an hour. It’s like we had to recover. We were not the same.
Mabe: Perhaps Chris’ biggest superpower was in how much he had been tied to everyone else’s success and story in Nashville. We are such a connected community; that’s the magic of Nashville. And he has written so many songs for our community and other artists. He had sung background vocal or played guitar on their projects. He really was the greatest artist that everyone knew and adored in Nashville, but the world just hadn’t caught up yet.
Sarah Trahern, CEO Country Music Association: The thing that I love with Chris is he’s such a great gateway drug. Chris is about great songs, great production and being true to who he is. You don’t have to be a country fan to like his music. If you are a country fan, you are going to love it because you’re going to hear Haggard and Jones and it’s still totally contemporary. People who think they may not like country music like Chris, and that’s one of the reasons why he works so well on television, whether it’s on our show or on a multiformat show like the Grammys.
Deaton: Afterwards, my phone started lighting up and I started seeing all the texts. People were going, “Hey Chris Stapleton is trending worldwide right now.” And Mike Dungan, my dear friend who was at the time the president of Chris’s record label, sent me a text that said, “Thank you Robert, I think I just recouped on Chris Stapleton.”
Mabe: Getting to be a part of the Traveller campaign is one of the favorite memories of my career because everything about it speaks to how much music impacts overall culture. The reason Traveller stands the test of time is because these songs had already been tested. They held up over 15 years before they were ever recorded. When you are striving for greatness and endurance, the songs have to reflect more than one moment. Chris and Morgane have a way of keeping their fingers on the pulse by hearing what cuts through the lens of time. Some were road tested, but all were heart tested. They have a clear understanding that past, present and future connect in songs and music and that’s what gives rise to enduring legacy. That and being able to sing like Chris Stapleton.
Cobb: It’s very cool that you can come from the most honest place and have such commercial acceptance and community acceptance. It’s really beautiful.
05/29/2025
The multi-genre smash rules Billboard’s 100-position Top Hot Country Songs of the 21st Century retrospective. Below, find a breakdown of the 2000-24 top 10.
05/29/2025
We had all met up for dinner in Santa Fe a couple of years ago. It was Chris, Morgane, me, my wife Kathryn and several band and crew members very close to Clan Stapleton. It was a humbling night in that no matter the status of our perceived successes, we all seemed to resort to naked-in-a-dream, childish reactions when the stress mounted. But in sticking with said dinner, it turned out full of a nectar that ended the night in everyone’s favor.
The owner and maître d’ of this Mexican restaurant came in on his day off, a little tipsy, I think, sporting a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat, and he welcomed us with grand sweeping gestures, overenunciating as he introduced each course with a rolling monologue. After his many waiters (one assigned to each of us) served us with aristocratic flair, he instructed us, with great drama, to, basically, pick up our spoons.
“Break the outer coating!” We did. “Now spoon up a small portion of every color on your dish. Every color!” We did as we were told. “And on the count of three put it in your mouth.” He was whispering at this point. We were getting scared. “One!” I looked up at Chris across the table from me, and his mouth, behind his beard and mustache, was neither grinning nor frowning, but something twisted in between. “Two!” We all had our spoons at exactly the same height, most shaking. After a long pause… “Three! In!”
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Like Willy Wonka, the owner knew precisely what was happening — delectable, divine, an otherworldly Disney ride in our mouths — as it happened. “You will next be getting a slight chile burn in the back half of the inside of your cheeks riiiiight now!” He was spot on. This was sorcery, Mexican f–king magic.
I had a similar feeling when I heard Chris play for the first time so many years ago at the Ryman, but I never put the two together until now.
It was 2017, and I was in Nashville promoting a film, and Kathryn and I were asked if we wanted to go see Chris Stapleton. “Who’s that?” I asked. Then, that night, I was slapped in the face with that visceral charge I hadn’t felt in music in that familial of a way since I was a kid.
Chris and Morgane Stapleton are country rock stars. There’s no question about it. Since I was 8 years old, a boot-toting rancher’s hanger-on at The Palomino Club in Los Angeles with my parents watching the likes of Marty Robbins, Waylon Jennings, Charley Pride, Mel Tillis and the great Willie Nelson, I have sought whatever that thing is that Chris and Morgane ooze: the presentation toward fans as family, and an added innate strut that suggests there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye.
I text Kenny Chesney that I’ll soon be seeing Chris and Morgane, and he replies right away: “I love them. Say hello for me. He’s a gift from God. He wrote a big song for me called ‘Never Wanted Nothing More.’ It put a lot of gas in the bus, for sure.”
Chris Stapleton and Josh Brolin photographed April 10, 2025 in Nashville.
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
Chris has also written songs for the likes of Blake Shelton, Tim McGraw, Sheryl Crow and Luke Bryan. But as a performer, something drives him. When I look at early videos of him sitting bespectacled and beardless, singing as if he is possessed, it hits me with both awe and envy and I, like him, am transported into the song-glory. I am living it while he is belting it free from wherever it sat in wait until now:
“Oh, why you gotta be so cold?Why you gotta go and cut me like a knifeAnd put our love on ice?Girl, you know you left this holeRight here in the middle of my soulOh-oh, oh, why you gotta be so cold?”
The “Cold” lyrics are simple and straightforward. The song sounds as much like a calling out to God as to the Devil himself, and it surpasses the cosmetics of how we all pretend we live broken love into what it’s actually like as we scratch at our faces and write the 15th letter in hopes of reconciliation.
Today, we are in Nashville. Kathryn and I flew here, then drove to a big metal warehouse where Chris and his band practice. Inside, there’s an eclectic mishmash of fan art, memorabilia, Grammys and awards of all sorts strewn about; paintings of a smiling Dolly Parton and an ingenue Audrey Hepburn; and there is a back room with a collection of guitars reaching into the hundreds, an obsession of his. This place was a rental during the coronavirus pandemic where Chris could perform remotely, but over the years they’ve grown attached to it, happily purchased it, and it’s where everything musically happens now. It’s theirs, very theirs. Poncho, who manages the place, sees us in. And there they are, Chris and Morgane, standing with open arms. They show us around, and we get the awkwards out. When we eventually leave a couple of hours later, Morgane’s sneaking a cigarette outside, waving.
The next morning, when Chris and Morgane walk in at around 11:30, I’m sitting on the couch draped with Native American blankets stuffing guitar picks into my pocket. There’s no reason to do it. I could just ask and I’m sure Chris would give me a thousand of them — but something about stealing them just feels right.
Morgane and Chris Stapleton photographed April 10, 2025 in Nashville.
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
“You want to listen to the new song?” Morgane asks. She turns on a high-fidelity record player that suddenly bellows a raw duet with Miranda Lambert through the room. The song immediately has Morgane and me dancing on the disco floor that they just laid, the one used in their “Think I’m In Love With You” video. I’m no Rick Rubin but it just has that thing that makes you move, that everybody can’t help but want to play again and again. He keeps surprising us (and himself, I’m sure) with who he chooses to work with: Taylor Swift, Adele, Justin Timberlake (the video for his “Say Something” featuring Chris might be the best music video I’ve ever seen, as a one-take, anything-can-go-wrong vibe gone right in every way). “This is amazing!” Kathryn yells from behind her camera. Chris is off meandering through his gaggle of guitars.
I ask Morgane to play it again and I sit down at a drum set surrounded by speakers. Chris grabs a chair to sit in that I later find out he brought with him when he first came to Nashville. “My mom recovered the seat pad sometime in the ’90s, but this is one out of four we had when I was a kid,” he says. “I brought this one with me. It’s so uncomfortable. I don’t know. I like it.”
He gets up and takes me into a long closet on the other side of the room.
“Lemme show you something,” he says.
The double door is locked, and I can see Morgane smiling as I pass her. Poncho unlocks it and we walk into what feels like miles of guitar cases, wall to wall. Chris finally stops at one that isn’t particularly a standout: “And this.” He pulls, then slowly opens it as if he’s revealing One-Eyed Willy’s personal hidden treasure; I even half expect at this point to see a golden-amber glow of some sort coming from inside. And there it is: an acoustic 1950s Gibson LG-2 steel string. It’s worn and scratched and looks like it’s trying to speak but is too old to.
“This is the first guitar I ever bought after I got to Nashville. I bought it for $380.”
He holds it up.
“Where’d you buy it?” I ask.
“Chambers guitar store, which I don’t think exists anymore.”
He runs his hand over it, almost longingly.
“There is nothing about it that is precious to anybody else. It’s got a million crack repairs. There was even mud in it when I first bought it, I think.”
“Except it means everything to you,” I say.
“That’s right.”
Chris Stapleton photographed April 10, 2025 in Nashville.
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
There are silences between us that will come and go all day, natural silences that come from people not needing to fill space all the time. This is one of those moments. I relish it. I don’t look at my phone. I don’t really look at him. Morgane and Kathryn are talking outside, and Poncho is getting himself a glass of water.
“If I had to walk out of here with one thing, it would be this. All the other stuff — I would be sad about it — but whatever I’ve done, whatever I’ve made, whatever I’ve turned into has pretty much been built on this thing.”
And for the first time this morning, he smiles. Then he walks out of the storage closet, leaving me in there holding his old friend.
Chris sits back down in his chair, his arm now around a 1976 bicentennial Gibson Firebird that Tom Petty used to play a month of shows at The Fillmore in the ’90s. The vibrato chords and Travis picking are coming through a shoulder-high amp that I find out later is the one that Jimmy Page used when Zeppelin toured America for the first time in 1969, a Rickenbacker Transonic. The amplifier that rests on top belonged to John Lennon. I’m not much of a drummer, but I return to sit behind the drum kit in the middle of the room and try and hold a beat… and Stapleton starts riffing. What the hell?!
After a while we stop and he looks at me. “It’s the buzz I look for. That buzz that starts with me then connects me to the band that connects to the audience then back around. I’m always looking for that electrical current.
“I had no voice before, no guitar skills,” he continues. “But something drove me to it. My uncle had a regional band, so maybe that. My dad listened to all the great country too — Waylon, Willie, Merle Haggard — but he also played R&B: Otis Redding and Ray Charles. He loved all of it. So music was always there, but sports became less prevalent, and the music just stayed.”
Chris grew up in Kentucky with big dreams of being a football player: “I couldn’t watch ball for years because it just hurt too much.”
“Were you a good football player?”“I thought I was.”“But something happened?”“Nope.”“It’s a sensitive subject.”“Not so much anymore.”“But it was.”“Yes, it was.”
Chris Stapleton and Josh Brolin
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
We speak about what keeps him grounded to his roots, as he’s accumulated 11 Grammys, 15 Academy of Country Music Awards (including 2025’s male artist of the year honor), five Billboard Music Awards and 16 Country Music Association Awards. His latest album, Higher, won the ACM award for album of the year in 2024, earning Morgane her first ACM award as an official co-producer. Since we saw him that night at the Ryman in 2017 his career has skyrocketed. There isn’t anyone out there who doesn’t seem to love his music, his lyrics or him.
“I’m grateful.” He looks at me over his arms that are still draped over his guitar. “I’m grateful I get to do this. I’m grateful for what it brings my family and that’s all that matters at the end of the day — those five people who call you daddy.”
It’s something we’ve talked about before, but the longer we sit there it’s obvious that words can’t describe the depth of what he feels, or even what he knows. I get it because I have the same push/pull with my profession, so we stammer through the personal stuff. That’s the whole point, I’m realizing, sharing that struggle with someone you trust, and this is that time and place. We never land anywhere with it, but, rather, travel in it, witnessed.
“Let’s go eat!” Morgane says. “What do you want?”
Suggestions: Mexican, chicken or burgers? “S–t, you’re from California. We can’t take you for tacos. Y’all have your Mexican food covered.” We land on Hattie B’s, a staple hot chicken joint in town known for its added spicy sauce.
We hop in the car, the four of us, the AV crew, Poncho and whoever else wants to come, with Morgane driving. She got a new car, a mom car. We pull into the small parking lot and there’s one spot. “Ain’t no way you’re going to make that,” Chris challenges. “Watch me,” Morgane retorts. She seven-point turns until she slips right into the space like a hand into a baseball glove. “Damn, woman!”
Chris Stapleton
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
We get a table outside.
“What’d you get, medium?” I ask Chris, curious if he is one of those burn-until-you-have-to-call-911 eaters.
“No, mild. I don’t mess with that medium stuff. It’s not real medium anyway. Somebody’s temperature gauge must have broke.”
“What about the hot?”
“There’s mild, medium, hot, ‘damn hot’ and ‘shut the cluck up!’ I stick with mild.”
“Want to try the hot with me?” Morgane asks.
“Yeah,” I excitedly and blindly reply.
They bring us some hot, along with some quarter and half birds, fried pickles, a few orders of “dirty bird” fries, a black-eyed pea salad and a few banana puddings. Morgane hands me my drum stick with the hot goop on it and we each take a bite. It’s not bad.
Right at that moment we hear Bill Withers’ “Lovely Day” from across the street. We all look over and see a man on a fully dressed, cream-white Harley-Davidson unapologetically karaoke-ing to the blasting coming from his motorcycle speakers: “Then I look at you/And the world’s all right with me/Just one look at you/And I know it’s going to be/A lovely day…”
We are all smiling. The man on the motorcycle is stopped and looking up at the sun, also smiling.
And my mouth is getting hotter.
“Look at him! How great, man. Does anybody have water?” I start to panic, but everyone is focused on the Bill Withers guy on a motorcycle, so I don’t start screaming.
Morgane starts laughing, “This is f–king hot. My lips.”
Chris’s face is in the direct sun, and I know he’s getting sunburned, but he’s too polite to say anything. My lips are burning, and this is exactly what I want to be doing with my day: extraordinary people doing ordinary s–t.
Chris Stapleton and Josh Brolin
Kathryn Boyd Brolin
The man with the motorcycle drives away, taking the song but not the feeling away with him.
We finish our banana puddings, and Morgane and I each wipe our now blistering lips.
“Let’s get outta here,” somebody says, though I don’t know who.
The plan when we got back was to continue the interview, but that moment has passed. We’ve talked. We’ve jammed. Kathryn needs to take her photos so she and Chris go somewhere that she feels will inspire, and Morgane and I are left to reminisce on what today has been.
“I wanted you guys to go back to the roots thing,” she says, looking at me like a mother taking care of her boy. “The drive your book [Brolin’s memoir, From Under the Truck] came from was from your mother and his was from his father. That’s the connection between you guys — you trying to please your mother and him his father.
“After SteelDrivers [the bluegrass band that Chris started and was subsequently fired from] he went solo on a heavy riff, sex rock’n’roll-type music,” she continues. “A departure. And he had a lot of fun doing it, but it didn’t hit. This was before the Traveller album. So we were sitting on the couch one night talking about what we were going to do. And I’ll never forget it: He looked at me and said he needed to do something with meaning.”
I hear Kathryn and Chris laughing from across the room.
“He had already written all the songs. Brian Wright and him. You know, a close-knit team. And he said, ‘I would like to make a record that would make my dad proud.’ And that’s the root. I think he’s been chasing that ever since.”
“When did his dad die?”“2013.”“Before Traveller.”“Yep.”
We were supposed to leave, get back to our respective kids, but we ended up at the table on the disco floor, just shooting the s–t: me, Kathryn, Chris, Morgane and Poncho. Poncho used to work at the used car dealership in town. He knows a lot about guitars too. Chris, Morgane and him met and they hit it off. He takes care of the warehouse now. He’s family. It’s obvious how deep the mutual care is. He lost a son. His wife then said he needed to leave because it wasn’t good for their daughter, his drinking and staying out so late every night. He couldn’t imagine life without his son. Then God came into the fold. Saved him from himself. Reminded him that there were others that needed taking care of. He got his s–t together and showed up, and today they are all together, slogging through the moments, as a family.
I have tears in my eyes (even as I write this) thinking of that late-night talk at the table on the disco floor, Chris easy with whatever wanted to happen. All the talks that day, but this one, especially.
Yes, Chris and Morgane Stapleton are country rock stars; there’s no refuting that. But when it comes down to it, they’re all about finding meaning in the music and in the moments — with their fans, their families and between each other.
We spent the day together just shooting the s–t, eating hot wings, singing along with Miranda Lambert and Bill Withers and, yeah, it’s true, I got to play the drums with Chris f–king Stapleton.
Amen to it all.
This story appears in the May 31, 2025, issue of Billboard.
We had all met up for dinner in Santa Fe a couple of years ago. It was Chris, Morgane, me, my wife Kathryn and several band and crew members very close to Clan Stapleton. It was a humbling night in that no matter the status of our perceived successes, we all seemed to resort to naked-in-a-dream, […]
Billboard cover star Chris Stapleton gets real in an intimate interview with Josh Brolin, in which he reflects on his musical journey about his roots and finding his voice. He dives into how he balances the demands of his professional ambitions with his personal life, the power of authenticity, and more.
Chris Stapleton:
You can stand up here and just hang out.
Josh Brolin:
Let’s do it.
Chris Stapleton:
Yeah, let’s grab — this is where you grab a table sitting.
Josh Brolin:
I don’t know. Where do you think? Okay, I think we should start with a sit down and just talk.
Chris Stapleton:
Sounds good.
Josh Brolin:
Tell me what this staircase is. What’s on the other side of it? Nothing?
Chris Stapleton:
Just like a-
Josh Brolin:
Hot water heater.
Chris Stapleton:
It’s all right, we shored it up.
Josh Brolin:
So perfect.
Unknown:
Josh says-
Josh Brolin:
That didn’t sound too good. This is a board.
Chris Stapleton:
It’s a real one.
Josh Brolin:
Okay, we can disco on it if we need to disco that is to cope. What’s the thing that most means something in this whole place?
Chris Stapleton:
There’s lots of things in here that mean things to me, instrument wise. There’s a guitar that I wrote most of my songs on.
Josh Brolin:
I would love to see that. How did we get here? Why are we doing this?
Chris Stapleton:
Well, I don’t think either one of us are exactly sure.
Josh Brolin:
Right.
Chris Stapleton:
But I think it kind of started, you guys showed up to a show,
Josh Brolin:
Right? It was Ryman.
Chris Stapleton:
It was the Ryman.
Josh Brolin:
It was here. I’d never heard you before. Right? And then we went, you started playing. And a guy who grew up with, you know, I grew up at the Palomino club, listening to Mel Tillis, listening to Marty Robbins. We had, you know, Waylon Jennings over at our ranch.
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Hundreds of country artists, from superstars to new aspirants, will spend June 5-8 saying thanks to their fan base and working to build new audiences when an expected 90,000 daily visitors attend CMA Fest in Nashville.
But for most of those artists, there’ll be one or more people at their side who are likewise invested in making the most of the annual event. Managers benefit when their artists expand their fan bases and increase consumption, driving up ticket prices and boosting merchandise sales.
Thus, those managers are focused on maxing out the connection their acts make with consumers during CMA Fest, but they have other interests during the festival, too: evaluating the market, networking with industry contacts and checking out other artists they might want to sign.
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“I can go around town and see 20 things in a day instead of having to take 20 days to see 20 things,” says Play It Again Music GM Cade Price, who manages Dylan Marlowe, Faith Hopkins and Slater Nalley. “It’s not like we’re trying to go sign anything and everything, but it’s CMA Fest. I think we do ourselves a disfavor if we don’t go out there and see. You just never know who you’re going to stumble onto.”
Fans have a good idea of the artists they may see. Nightly concerts at Nissan Stadium are one of the primary attractions for CMA Fest, an annual event since 1972 that has generated a summer network TV special for more than 20 years. Keith Urban, Cody Johnson, Rascal Flatts, Jason Aldean, Scotty McCreery, Luke Bryan and Blake Shelton are among the nearly 30 artists slated for the stadium main stage this year.
But while the football field garners the most attention, some of the most important work of CMA Fest occurs during the day at nine smaller festival stages, plus a bundle of unofficial adjunct performance spots. Those platforms help new and developing artists, in particular, showcase their talents to consumers in their target audience who may not otherwise be fully aware of them. This year’s participants on those building stages include Bryce Leatherwood, Charlie Worsham, Cooper Alan, Crowe Boys, Hudson Westbrook, Madeline Edwards and Tyler Braden.
It’s a massive opportunity for fans to experience artists they don’t know well and, in turn, a prime chance for artist managers to get a big-picture assessment of country’s most avid fans.
“It’s always kind of fun to observe the people that come in and get a good idea of what the country fan base looks like at that point in time,” says Champ Management founder Matt Musacchio, who counts Vincent Mason, Jessie James Decker, Dawson Anderson, Abbie Callahan and Sons of Habit as clients. “You see how the fan base differs from artist to artist and stage to stage, depending on who’s playing.”
Unlike their artists, most managers are able to blend in with the crowd, and it provides them a great opportunity to move across the Downtown Nashville footprint. Much of their day is spent shepherding their acts through their schedules, and they’re bound to encounter other executives and musicians they already know backstage. But most have some breakaway moments when they can check out other performances and new amenities, where they’re likely to run across industry contacts.
“For me personally, it was massive,” says Los Angeles-based Type A Management founder Alex Lunt, who attended his first CMA Fest in 2024 with Dasha. “It was an amazing opportunity to really just tap in with the entire country community because you have everybody. You even have all the coastal label execs there. They’re all going to come to CMA Fest.”
The scouting gives a better sense of the opportunities, too. That’s particularly valuable as their artists return year after year and their goals change. Lunt’s first experience a year ago, when Dasha’s single “Austin” was breaking out, was an overload.
“Last year, we were just kind of like a fire hose to the mouth and saying yes to everything,” he notes.
Dasha played two songs on the spotlight stage at the stadium, the first time she had performed for an audience of 50,000. But she also packed some of the smaller adjunct events in Nashville bars. For this year, they focused more on branding, creating a line-dance experience at the Whiskey Bent Saloon.
“She’ll have her Coyote Ugly moment, perform on the bar and do a couple numbers,” Lunt notes. “We just wanted to give her her statement, and we’re calling it ‘Dashville’ because her whole tour is basically called ‘Welcome to Dashville.’”
For managers with years of CMA Fest history, every iteration brings new perspective on the format and their clients.
“It’s fun to see the artist’s career grow incrementally with what they’re doing at CMA Fest every year,” Musacchio says. “It’s always, I think, a good gauge of how the last year has been and where things are going, and kind of where the artist sits in the grand scheme of things.”
It’s also a great motivator for manager and artist. The large turnout from the country audience invariably reminds participants how many consumers are willing to invest in the genre. But it also offers a physical reminder of how many artists are competing for those listeners. Hopefully, both the manager and the artist find motivation in that part of the experience.
“It makes you think about how much new music is being released each week,” Price says. “That’s allowing us to see that and gets our minds going: ‘What do we need to be doing to stand out in the crowd?’”