Jason Isbell talks new album, marriage and 'letting go' of gender roles: 'F*** all that. … If the dishes are dirty, wash the dishes.'

“I was raised to be a strong and silent Southern man,” Americana superstar Jason Isbell sings in the pandemic-inspired “Middle of the Morning,” a track off his new album with the 400 Unit, Weathervanes. The singer-songwriter is one of the most open and authentic artists working in country music today — not just on his critically acclaimed and Grammy-winning albums, but in his recent documentary, Jason Isbell: Running With Our Eyes Closed. That film unflinchingly chronicled the fraught making of Isbell’s last album, Reunions, which was recorded and released amid the COVID-19 lockdown and a rough patch in his marriage to fellow alt-country darling Amanda Shires.

Much has changed since then. The country power-couple has weathered the storm, so to speak, and Isbell and Shires are in a much better place in their relationship. Isbell is also excited to play Weathervanes for actual live audiences, something he wasn’t able to do three years ago when most of his Reunions performances took place in his living room via Zoom. But the Alabama-raised, strong and not-so-silent Southern man’s enlightened, evolved viewpoint in the constant in his discography, up through the just-released Weathervanes.

“At the end of the day, I feel braver and stronger when I've done something that is not traditionally seen as ‘masculine,’” Isbell tells Yahoo Entertainment. “I'm trying to maybe show people an example of what has worked for me, as far as keeping me happy and keeping my relationships healthy, helping me move through the world in a way that is intentional. It’s letting go of these ideas of what's a ‘man's role’ and what's a ‘woman's role,’ and how you're supposed to behave. Just, you know, f*** all that! Let's not do all that. Let's just do what needs to be done and be kind to people. If the dishes are dirty, wash the dishes. If the towels need folding, fold the towel. Whatever it is. If your wife makes more money than you, you should try to make up for that by cleaning up around the house. It doesn't matter which one of you is the man and which one of you is a woman. It's really silly. You just do what needs to be done and be nice.”

Below, Isbell chats about Weathervanes; hashing out marital issues through song; the “disclaimer” that he and Shires would like to tag onto the beginning of Running With Our Eyes Closed now; his hatred for nostalgia; and that time when his political views led to a famous “feral hog moment” on Twitter and brief feud with “little conservative man” Ben Shapiro, which he notes with amusement and some pride is still “the most viral thing I've ever done.”

Yahoo Entertainment: Your documentary came out just a couple of months ago, even though you were making it around 2019/2020. How is Weathervanes sort of a companion piece or a sequel to that project? Obviously, there's a recurring theme throughout your work…

Jason Isbell: Yeah, me! I am in all of it, playing the same character every time. So, I guess it's like The Fast and the Furious. There's like a dozen of 'em now. [laughs] You know, we had a better time with this record. I think a big part of that was me just being able to admit to myself that making an album causes me some stress and some anxiety. Once I said that out loud and recognized it for what it was, it freed me up to enjoy my experience a little bit more. It usually works that way, though. Most of the time it's kind of like the monster in the closet: If you open up the closet door and look in the closet, that demonstrates it’s not really there anymore.

Does your anxiety come from the fact that you get very confessional on your records? Does that contribute to the stress — that you're about to put something vulnerable out there, for all the world to hear?

Yeah, probably. When you tie your work and your personal life together so much and so closely… I believe it's the right thing to do for me, because I think that that's the way I connect with people. I think that if somebody hears a song and you're very specific about the details of your experience and it makes sense to them, then they sort of feel like a secret, like, “How did he know this about my life?” And that's the best for me. I would rather do that than appeal in a vague way to a large number of people. But it is a little bit dangerous, because you start to think, “Well, if people don't like this record, does that mean they don't like me? That they don't like my inner life or my emotions or who I am?” … But it's just like everything else: It never turns out to be as bad as you expect it to be.

Have there ever been a time when you thought, “Oh man, should I have said that?” or “Maybe I shouldn’t have released that song”?

Not really, no — because the process of turning it into a song gives you a whole lot of opportunities to consider what you're saying and who you're singing about, whether it's you or somebody else in your personal sphere that might not have signed up for being in a song. If you spend enough time working on the lyrics and working on the melodies, you're going to also, just by default, spend a lot of time thinking, “Do I want this to be out in the world?” And then by the time it's mixed and mastered and released, you should be pretty settled with it.

Amanda obviously expresses her perspective on your marriage in her own lyrics, especially on her most recent album, Take It Like a Man. When the tables are turned and you’re the subject of her songs, how does that sit with you?

You know, I would rather hear it in a song than in a Dear John letter, I'll tell you that! [laughs] And I think for people like us, sometimes those are the only two options. It's like, if we can't figure out a way to get it out in there in art, in a creative life, then it'll fester. My rule is, if it's a good song, it deserves to exist. I think everybody should be allowed to access those feelings and to talk about 'em. Sometimes, yeah, a certain line will come across and I'll think, “Ooh, that stings a little bit — but you know, it's a good line.” So, I can't really argue. That's what you get: If you marry a songwriter, you better be prepared for that kind of stuff.

Is there a specific Take It Like a Man lyric that comes to mind that really made you wince?

No, I don't remember in particular, but there's plenty if you go back and listen to it. But the wince is always followed, especially on that record, by appreciation for her mastery of the craft. If you can't be comfortable with somebody expressing themselves in the way that they feel safe expressing, if it's not safe for them to say those things in a song or a poem or a story or whatever it is that they create, then you're gonna get it in a different version — and you're not gonna like that version nearly as much.

Maybe more couples should write songs about each other…

I mean, really! Right? No kidding. Even if they're not all that good at it or practiced at it. When I was a kid, man, my parents would fight, and my mom would write letters. Most of the time she wouldn't give them to anybody; she would just write them for herself. But that's helpful, because you get your feelings down on a piece of paper and you can look at them and you can think… “This is real. I can read it. And now that can get it out of my own brain and onto a sheet of paper, I can look at it and know that it's real.” I think that's helpful for everybody.

When you and Amanda write such personal songs about each other — the ones that might make you wince – do you play them for each other before they’re recorded or released? Or do you just hear them when the public does?

Oh, no, we always hear each other's songs first. Always. I think that's the only way to do it, really, because we trust each other's opinions. And also, it wouldn't be fair to spring something like that on your significant other, at the same time that you're releasing it to the world. We wouldn't do that. I mean, we do care a lot about each other, so our system is, if I were to write a song and she was in it and she didn't like the content, then we would sit down and talk about that. And if I had worked hard enough on the song and believed enough in the song to defend it in that conversation, then it would stand, and it would stay. But I'm not going to just put one out to the world and that's the first time she hears it. Oh, no, no! That would not be a good idea! [laughs]

How did you feel once the Running With Our Eyes Closed documentary came out? It really went there, in terms of diving into the problems in your marriage at the time. But it was filmed three years ago, so the situation is probably different now…

Yeah, yeah, thankfully. We had some breakthroughs after that point. And you know, Amanda said when we watched it the first time, “I wish we could have just put a disclaimer on the end that said, ‘Everything's fine now!’” [laughs] That would be nice, because it was a long time ago when we filmed all that stuff. There was relief, because I watched it and I thought, “You know, this just seems human to me. This doesn't seem like me or anybody else is doing anything horrible or hurtful.” But also it's hard to watch, because when we survive something, whether it's a difficult time in a relationship or just any kind of depression or stress or anything like that, we don't tend to carry that along the path with us. Normally the tendency is, “OK I made it through that; I'm gonna sit it down over here and keep on going.” And so it was a little bit difficult to see [the film] the first time, just because it's like, “Oh, I remember feeling like that. And I remember making other people feel like that.” But then to be sitting there and watching it and being in a different place, you have to look at it from that perspective and think, “Hey, look what we survived! Look what our relationship survived and, and what our creative careers survived.”

So, there was nothing triggering about it, in terms of bringing up old resentments or anything like that?

It was kind of the opposite. I mean, I think we do a pretty good job of actually working all the way through things, once we figure out what the problem is — meaning like me and Amanda or me and my band or whatever. I think once we figure out what the issue is, we work through it until it's completely resolved. So then when we go back and see that, we're like, “Boy, that sucked when we couldn't figure that one out! That was tough. Being disconnected in that way was really hard.” But since then, I don't think it brought any bad stuff back up. It just reminded us of what we have to be grateful for now.

I imagine you have many fans who were going through their own relationship struggles and were grateful to see you display your humanness as a couple onscreen.

I mean, that's kind of the whole reason why we did it, and why we did it the way that we did and didn't cut anything or tell Sam Jones, the director, that we weren't comfortable with it. I mean, I wasn't comfortable with it, but at the same time, I'm not supposed to be comfortable. Being comfortable is not the ultimate goal. It served the purpose that a lot of the songs serve, which is just to really truly connect with people on a level that makes them feel like they're not alone in their experience. And to do that and hit somebody in a serious place, you have to show yourself and you have to show your flaws. It seemed to appeal to a whole lot of people more than a lot of music documentaries that are just promotional, where the artist is paying for it and they have final cut and it's just, “Let's follow this person around as they do awesome stuff!” We weren't interested in that.

Going back to Weathervanes, there’s a line [in “Middle of the Morning”] when you sing, “I was raised to be a strong and silent Southern man.” The track “Cast Iron Skillet” also touches on themes about toxic masculinity, particularly in the South. Can you talk about the culture you were raised in and the importance of evolving from that?

Yeah, it's tough to do, you know, because you get so used to romanticizing this idea of the past. Us Southerners are very guilty of that. You sort of cruise through your life and try to put on this sort of facade of masculinity, like: “I'm tough. I'm a big strong man from the South. I can handle anything. Nothing bothers me. I'm here to provide and protect.” And then, once you start really thinking about what that means — to protect the people around you — well, first thing you should do is protect them from you, and protect them from your impulses and your inability to handle your emotional life. At the end of the day, I feel braver and stronger when I've done something that is not traditionally seen as “masculine.” When I saw a problem that needed solving, so I solved it if I could. And, you know, sometimes that problem was me. Sometimes it was me not being really good at expressing how I felt. And if you don't acknowledge those emotions for what they are and say them out loud, they're gonna come out as something different. And I know a whole bunch of people [like that].

I was lucky enough — I have a really good dad, and we are close and have always been. But I grew up around a lot of people who were just sort of existing under the tyranny of their big old redneck father. And that's tough, man. That's a tough way to live. Nobody's happy in that situation — including the big redneck father. Everybody's miserable because nobody's acknowledging really how they truly feel on a day-to-day basis. I'm trying to maybe show people an example of what has worked for me, as far as keeping me happy and keeping my relationships healthy, helping me move through the world in a way that is intentional. It’s letting go of these ideas of what's a “man's role” and what's a “woman's role,” and how you're supposed to behave. Just, you know, f*** all that! Let's not do all that. Let's just do what needs to be done and be kind to people. If the dishes are dirty, wash the dishes. If the towels need folding, fold the towel. Whatever it is. If your wife makes more money than you, you should try to make up for that by cleaning up around the house. It doesn't matter which one of you is the man and which one of you is a woman. It's really silly. You just do what needs to be done and be nice.

You seem to really hate the concept of nostalgia. I think you called nostalgia an “abomination” in another recent interview.

Yeah, I think it is. … We look back at the past and we think, “Well, yeah, a lot of bad stuff happened, but really it was a beautiful, idyllic situation where our family was all happy and everybody had money and everybody had a job.” And then you think, “Well, maybe it was that way for you.” I mean, probably not entirely, but even let's accept that it was that way for you and your family. But what about the people down the street? What about the people a block over? What about the people a mile away? And once you start digging into that, the idea that everyone should be part of the community – and not just white people or straight people or men — once you accept that everybody's in the community, the average level of happiness with the past starts to drop extremely quickly. And you see that maybe from your perspective the past was a better place, but in general it most certainly was not — definitely not in America. And the only way to ever get there is to look at it with some sort of honesty. Nostalgia does not have a whole lot of honesty to it… it's kind of like the refusal to look at things the way they really were. And I'm not into that, man. I want tomorrow to be good. Yesterday, I don't have any more use for, unless it's just to help tomorrow get better.

Do you have any funny, or not-so-funny, stories about being told — by people in the industry or whoever — that you're too “woke” and should tone it down? That you might alienate country music fans?

The biggest one I think was the “feral hog” moment on Twitter. I guess I was in some ways responsible for that. There had been a school shooting, and of course I was frustrated, just like most people. And the argument was the definition of an assault weapon – like, “How do you describe an assault weapon in a way that clearly defines it?” And this is all nonsense. I mean, we know what those things are. We knowwhat an assault weapon is. And that was my tweet. My message was that if you're on here arguing about the definition of an assault weapon, then you're part of the problem. You know what those guns are. You don't need one of those guns. It's pretty simple. And then there was a fella from Arkansas — Willie McNabb, from Arkansas — who chimed in about the 30 to 50 feral hogs that were invading his yard while his children were playing. And this became a huge viral tweet. He was responding to me, and I said, “You know, man, if you've got that many hogs running into your yard, you've got problems that an assault weapon is not gonna solve. Not to mention, like, are you firing on the hogs while your children are playing in the middle of the yard? Are the kids there too? How do you hit the hogs and not hit the children? Have you thought about fences there? There's so many ways you could go with that!”

But some people genuinely got mad. Ben Shapiro, the little conservative man, tried to tell me that I didn't know what I was talking about. And I told him, “I've owned those weapons. I grew up in Alabama. Where did yougrow up? You know, because I fired them, I could take 'em apart and clean them and put 'em back together, and I know that they're useless.” And that was the last I'd heard from him. He just sort of stepped away — which he doesn't normally do. So, I was pretty happy about that moment. I got the little guy to shut up. That made me pretty happy. But yeah, that was the most popular thing I did in my whole career. All these years of writing songs, and tweeting about feral hogs was the most viral thing I've ever done. [laughs]

On a related but much more serious note, your Weathervanes track “Save the World” is about school shootings. I understand that was an especially difficult song for you to write.

Yeah, it was tough. It's such a heavy topic. Something I've noticed about my songwriting, that I hadn't really noticed up until this album, is when I'm writing about something that's kind of universal and pretty well-understood, like love and death and kids and these kind of things, I'll write sometimes from another character's perspective. … But when I'm talking about something like this that's so serious and so heavy, I have to come at it from my own personal point of view. I would never assume the perspective of somebody who's been involved in a mass shooting, so I have to go, “Well, this is how this makes me feel.” It was tough, because I started out being broad and sort of vague about these concepts, and I sang the song for Amanda and she said, “You need to rewrite that, because I know what you're trying to say, but you haven't said it yet. You need to get specific and really dig in.” And that was terrifying for me. But I did it. The last thing that I did [for this album] was go back in the studio and record a whole new vocal to this song, which is the one that's on the album now, with new lyrics. And it made a lot more sense. She helped me kind of push over that hill of “here's what I want to say, but I don't know if I feel comfortable saying it.” I had to push harder and get out of my comfort zone and write more specifically and more pointedly. It was tough, but it's hard to argue with somebody saying, “Here's how I feel.” … So, I think it works best when I do it that way.

On lighter final note, at the beginning of this interview you joked that you always play the same character: yourself. But you're actually going to be in Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon soon, playing someone else! And you actually wrote a lot of Weathervanes while on the movie set. How did that cinematic experience affect the vibe of the album?

The movie's going to be amazing. I haven't seen it yet, but everybody there was the best at their job and they were all so very helpful to me, and I was very grateful for that experience. There was a whole lot of sitting around [on the set] and waiting to go to work, because we were in Oklahoma in the summer, and the weather can get really nasty. I had some guitars there, so I started writing some songs. And I think they were informed a lot by the place that I was in, because I was in Bartlesville, Okla., a very small town, and it reminded me a whole lot of where I grew up in Alabama; the people were very similar to the people that I'd grown up around. It got me thinking about their personal lives and the stories of those folks, and that's where the songs started to come from.

And then when I got back in the studio, I kind of brought with me the way I'd seen Scorsese work on set. He was there every day. He was involved in every scene. He was working hard the whole time. This is a very old man, and it was very hot outside, and he worked really hard. I was impressed, but the thing that stuck with me the most was the fact that he had this sort of overall vision for how he wanted this story to be told, but he was also open to collaborate with the people around him. If somebody had a suggestion or an idea, he would listen. And that surprised me — I thought, you know, either he's not gonna be there or he's gonna be a dictator. And he was neither of those things. He was just trying to get the story told in the best way possible. So, I took that with me when I got back in the studio and I thought, “You know, it doesn't mean that you're not in charge if you're listening to the people around you.”

This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

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• 'Outlaw Love' country star Brooke Eden on coming out: "They basically told me, 'You can either be in love or you can be a country singer — but you can't be both.'"

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• The ‘little song that could’: How Kacey Musgraves’s LGBTQ+ anthem beat the odds with historic CMAs win

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