Sarah Kjelleren

Maren Morris is an anomaly in the world of country music. This is, after all, a genre that encourages cookie-cutter molds, a rigid set of steps to stardom, and an ever-raging debate about what’s really country. And yet, the 28-year-old Texan has opted to do things her own way, shirking convention and obliterating expectation at every turn. It’s working.

“I don’t mean to brag,” she says, “but I’ve somehow accomplished, off a debut, things I never thought humanly possible.”

Now it’s fueling the next phase of her career, which arrived with her technicolor second album, GIRL, last week. Ahead of the record's release, on a bitterly cold late-winter day in New York City, I sat down with Morris for a wide-ranging and very candid conversation about embracing therapy, navigating the rough patches of her marriage, teaming up with Brandi Carlile, and—as if that weren't enough—gun control.

“I remember having to really define my role in the beginning [of my career],” Morris says. Not anymore. “If it's not country enough for you, change the channel," she says. "If you’re wanting to hear me with no production, then [watch] YouTube videos of me as a teenager at coffee shops.”

Morris's banner debut began in 2016 with her soulful single “My Church.” Emerging artists in Nashville typically devote the first years of their careers to grueling, years-long promotional tours in hopes of getting radio producers on their side, but Morris found a side door when a friend at Spotify helped get her featured on the platform’s country playlists. "My Church" racked up a million plays in under a month, and radio couldn't ignore her. By the time her masterful LP Hero arrived that same year, she was already a star.

Hero, which tucked R&B, pop, and hip-hop between her country layers and whip-smart lyrics, debuted at No.1 on Billboard’s Top Country Albums chart and landed her a coveted tour spot with Keith Urban and a duet with Dierks Bentley. Elton John called to say he was a fan. She won her first Grammy (Best Country Solo Performance, “My Church”) in 2017, and last year she was the vocalist on Zedd’s massive hit, “The Middle.”

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“Every risk I’ve taken has, in some way, shape, or fashion paid off,” she explains of her uncompromising approach. “I feel like if I’m not scaring myself, it’s probably not worth my time.”

Lucky for her—and us—GIRL is terrifyingly good. Across 14 songs, all of which bear Morris’s name in the credits, she offers a masterclass in hell-raising country rock (“All My Favorite People,” which features Brothers Osborne), super-sized pop (“Girl”), and pulsating soul (“Make Out With Me”). “The Feels” is anchored by a reggae groove, while “Flavor” and “RSVP” embrace heady '90s-era R&B. “Shade” is somehow both a piano ballad and a Southern rock shredfest.

“I don’t [make music] because it’s what you define,” she says. “I’m defining what I want it to be.”

She meets the expansive palette with an equally wide lyrical scope, tackling self-worth, “fully realized sexuality,” as she says, and, of course, love. In fact, GIRL is best viewed in two parts: The first, an exploration of Maren Morris, the Individual; the second, an exploration of Maren Morris, the Partner in Marriage. For the newlywed—Morris married singer-songwriter Ryan Hurd last March—it was a necessary investigation.

“On Hero, I was just coming out of this very co-dependent, toxic relationship,” she explains. “They weren’t supportive of my wanting to be an artist. I was still bitter when I made that album. I had to go through that. And now, I’ve realized it’s perfectly okay to need someone. I need [Ryan]—that’s not weak. He grounds me.”

Most of the relationship songs on GIRL are drunk with amoré, like the woozy “Make Out With Me” or throbbing “RSVP.” They're full of lust and passion, but they also contain a remarkable understanding of endurance—something Morris and Hurd learned to appreciate in the immediate aftermath of their spring 2018 wedding.

Maren Morris and her husband Ryan Hurd attend the Pre-Grammy Gala in Beverly Hills on February 9, 2019. Neilson Barnard Getty Images

“It was probably the hardest part of our relationship,” she recalls. “We went on our honeymoon, and then I immediately went on this gigantic tour opening for Niall Horan. It was more international touring than I had ever done. And I was gone more than I had ever been on any other tour.”

And while Hurd has thus far enjoyed a successful career as a songwriter, penning hits for Luke Bryan and Tim McGraw, as he begins to release and tour more music under his own name, Morris knows they’ll have to adapt, again. “He’s always been the guy to come to me,” she acknowledges. “Now, I’m gonna have to be the girl coming to him.”

Their resolve is on full display on the album: “We’re in the homestretch of the hard times,” she sings on the undeniably euphoric “The Bones.” “We took a hard left, but we’re alright.” And later, “Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I / Can’t even mess it up, although we both try.” On “Great Ones,” which Hurd penned with Morris (he also sings back-up), they stare down reality while promising to survive. “Most loves don’t make it through,” they sing over jagged atmospherics, “but the great ones do.”

“Getting married made me want to better myself and figure out why I do the things I do,” Morris says. Sarah Kjelleren

It was hard-earned perspective—and joy, says Morris. “It was a tough summer,” she admits. “But we have grown so much closer because we had to make some hard decisions and have some tough talks about what this future looks like and how we can make this better.” She adds: “I have always loved him, but I feel like I like him in ways I never knew I could before.”

Morris has more control of her schedule now that she's made the transition to headliner. That should help the Morris-Hurd household achieve some stability. But the singer also credits the couple’s shared embrace of therapy for the optimistic outlook.

“Getting married made me want to better myself and figure out why I do the things I do,” she says of the decision to look beyond her songbook for relief. “And, for my own mental health, as I go deeper and deeper into this world of music, I need another outlet besides writing songs to get out what I’m feeling.”

Plus, she says, “Talking about the possibility of having kids, I would like our minds to be as doctored up before we bring another person into the world.”

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While some of the names that dot the credits of GIRL are familiar—like Busbee, who had a hand in “80's Mercedes” from Hero—Morris also sought out new energy in the form of producer Greg Kurstin (Adele, Foo Fighters) and songwriter Sarah Aarons, who co-wrote “The Middle.” Morris had heard Aarons voice on the demo for the dance smash but didn’t meet her until the Columbia Records Grammys after party last year, the night the song debuted.

“I immediately freaked out,” Morris recalls, laughing. “I had obsessively listened to her voice.” Aarons had worked with Kurstin before, so last year, Morris decamped to Los Angeles for a two-day writing session.

“I loved that Greg and Sarah really were not concerned with writing a country song,” Morris says of the partnership. “It really was just us getting to know each other.” It was also, it turns out, about getting to know a whole new family of production techniques. “Greg has this amazing studio—there’s tons of synths and amazing guitar amps. He has a vocal booth with drums in it. So he’s just laying stuff down throughout the day and, at the end, he starts playing it and I can’t believe what we hear.” Her first visit yielded “Common;” her second, the title track.

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But “Common” would transform in the wake of that session. Written as a solo cut, the album version features the Seattle-dwelling Carlile, something Morris says was decided by fate. Having just returned from L.A., Morris found herself listening to the track on her back porch at the end of a bad day. Going through her mail pile, she found a package that included a vinyl copy of Carlile’s striking 2018 LP By the Way, I Forgive You, along with a note from the songwriter.

Brandi Carlile and Maren Morris perform at the CMT Artists of The Year at Schermerhorn Symphony Center on October 17, 2018 in Nashville. Al Wagner/Shutterstock

“She wrote me a letter saying that she’s so thankful that her daughters are going to get to grow up in a world where there’s a woman like me in country music,” Morris recalls. “I was just bawling my eyes out.” She tracked down Carlile’s email soon after and sent her “Common,” asking if she'd join her on the track. “She said yes immediately.”

The two powerhouse vocalists didn’t get in the studio together—Carlile instead booked it to Kurstin’s L.A. studio while Morris FaceTimed in—but by their first meeting they were practically old pals. This month, it was announced that Morris is the newest addition to Carlile’s supergroup, the Highwomen, with singer and songwriter (and wife of Jason Isbell) Amanda Shires.

“Every risk I’ve taken has, in some way, shape, or fashion paid off,” Morris says. “If I’m not scaring myself, it’s probably not worth my time.” Sarah Kjelleren

“I feel like I made friends for life,” Morris says of her first dinner with Carlile and her wife, Catherine Shepherd. “We got into really deep, hours-long conversation,” she adds before quipping, “I know this is, like, becoming a Brandi Carlile interview.”

Political debate is rarely the preferred m.o. for country stars and, in recent years, the format has maintained a comfortable relationship with guns. The NRA has a lifestyle brand, NRA Country, and frequently books artists for its events. But following the Route 91 musical festival shooting in October 2017 that left 58 dead and hundreds injured in Las Vegas—as well as the shooting at the country-themed Borderline Bar and Grill in Thousand Oaks, California—Music City names are finally being called on to speak out.

Morris has done so willingly. She performed at the Las Vegas fest, taking the stage one day ahead of the brutal shooting. And in the immediate wake, she shared “Dear Hate,” a delicate song with Vince Gill that begs for peace in a world that desperately lacks it. “That’s a really hard song for me to sing,” she says. “Even releasing it, there was this sense of PTSD. A lot of artists were terrified to go back on the stage. A lot of fans were terrified to go back into these venues.”

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That the time since has lacked respite clearly bothers Morris. “It’s just—this is supposed to be a safe place,” she says. “A music venue. A church. A school. It feels like we’re all dealing with perpetual PTSD.” She’s found strength, she says, in her audience. “The only way that I’ve been able to continue touring and having confidence on stage is through conversations [about this] with fans. If I am feeling this way,” she figures, “and they’re feeling this way, then we can heal each other. It also lights a fire under my ass. If they went through that and they can still buy a ticket and show up and pay for parking and get in the door, then I can certainly walk out on stage.”

“I’m from Texas and I’ve grown up around guns,” Morris says. “Do I feel particularly safe around guns now? No.” Sarah Kjelleren

But Morris knows it’s going to take more than conversations to fix gun violence. “I’m from Texas and I’ve grown up around guns, and my whole family was always super safe with them. But as much fun as that was growing up, do I feel particularly safe around guns now? No.” She is an advocate for common sense gun reform. As she says: “I don’t think anyone needs to own a semi-automatic or automatic rifle. I mean, the Second Amendment was put in place when it was like, muskets. I don’t think the forefathers were thinking about Route 91 or bump stocks and shit.”

She also points to artists like Dierks Bentley and Tyler Hubbard of Florida Georgia Line, who both joined the End Gun Violence Together campaign in November, as evidence of wider change in Nashville. “People are getting braver,” she argues. “And I’m glad. As much as people like to say ‘shut up and sing,’ those aren’t the people who move the culture forward. Artists are extremely influential. If you are informed and you pay taxes, you deserve as much of an opinion as anyone else.”

Gun reform isn’t the only hot-button topic Morris is down to discuss. Since her debut, much of the conversation in the genre has centered around a general lack of gender parity. And despite buzzy peers like Cam, Kelsea Ballerini, Kacey Musgraces, and Carly Pearce all breaking out alongside her, in December, for the first time in its history, the Billboard Country Airplay chart featured no women in its Top 20. “It’s embarrassing,” says Morris. “There needs to be way more male artists that are speaking up about it. Everyone’s afraid of their spin getting docked, but people need to be held accountable.”

“As much as people like to say ‘shut up and sing,’ those aren’t the people who move the culture forward.” Sarah Kjelleren

This spring, Morris launches the GIRL World Tour and the roster matches the name: Cassadee Pope and RaeLynn will join as openers. “That’s how you put your money where your mouth is,” argues Morris, “by giving these acts slots. Carrie Underwood is bringing out all female acts. And my manager is a woman, my tour manager is a woman. My bass player, Annie, is such a badass on stage. I really trust these people. They’re the best at what they do.” But it’s not just women she wants to see rise to the top. “I want more people of color played [on radio],” she says. “And I want more sexual identities realized. Everything needs to shift forward.”

With artists like Morris leading the charge, it all just might.

Photographs by Sarah Kjelleren; Styling by Kelly Callahan; Makeup by Meg Boes; Hair by Marwa Bashir