why Maren Morris' "The Bridge" both terrifies & thrills me

it's the state of country music, really

Last Friday, Maren Morris released a collection of two new songs collectively titled, The Bridge. The project, she has said, serves as a motion towards something new. A new album, a new direction, a new sound…we don’t quite know.

The songs, “The Tree,” and “Get the Hell Out of Here,” are beautiful, poignant, and honest. The accompanying videos reference the drama and controversy that have surrounded Maren for years - from public “beef” with Jason Aldean, to being called a “Lunatic Country Music Person” on Fox News - as she axes down a tree and leaves a burning town in her wake. Given her early success with singles like “My Church,” Maren has a unique platform as a woman in the genre that has allowed her to be outspoken…and heard. She openly supports LGBTQI rights, she challenges the treatment and representation of women (and other minorities) in country music, and she writes really great songs that challenge the status quo of country music and therefore rarely receive the play or attention they deserve. Through it all, she is met with criticism: too pop, too angry, too much.

It’s no wonder she wants to get out. I applaud her. But still, it makes me sad.

Because if all the strong, empowered, different artists who challenge what country music can be choose to leave because they’re offered no other option, then country music can never grow. It will dry up and go down in flames, just like the tree. And I’m not saying Maren hasn’t put up a good fight - she’s stuck around for a long time - she’s tried to be the change. But I sure wouldn’t want to stick around a place where I didn’t feel wanted, appreciated, or heard, and I can’t expect her to, either.

There’s only so long you can stick around to fight a losing battle without losing yourself in the process.

You see, sometimes, when I’m driving home after a long day of work, I take it extra slow. (In these parts, that actually means I just drive the speed limit.) Eventually, a big black SUV will roll up behind me, their brights blinding me as they reflect in my mirrors, pushing me down the road. I can sense the driver’s impatience, their frustration, and while my deepest instinct is to make them feel better - to pick up the pace and play by their rules - I’m beginning to learn that the deepest, darkest part of me will ease up on the gas, moving just a little slower. It’s as if I believe that my slowing down, my calming deep breaths, will ease into them. Like maybe, in my quiet strength, I might teach a valuable lesson that could change this road forever.

My efforts, of course, are futile, and I still arrive home feeling perturbed, the question still begging to be answered: Do I go with the flow? Or do I build a bridge and bypass the raging waters to save myself?

It seems that even when we try our best to be a force for good - to set an example of what could be - it can’t do much good if no one will listen. And eventually, we all just get burnt out and tired. We succumb to the risk of being a part of the problem, ourselves…

So I’m excited for Maren. I think she’s about to do something big that will be really great for her. And - providing she doesn’t change her sound too much - I will absolutely follow her wherever she may go. But I’m terrified for country music. I’m terrified because I love it, and yet I’m kind of angry with it. I wish it would do better. I wish it would listen. I wish it would accept and promote and reflect what being “country” can really mean in the modern age. I wish there was more space made for women’s voices. I wish “small towns” didn’t have to be a metaphor for closed minds. I wish the South didn’t have to be a dirty word.

I moved to Nashville for country music. I made it my home. And I love it here. Because there is good here. There is hope. There are so many of us who want better, if only someone would listen. Which is exactly why I challenge it - so that it doesn’t become a place where I, like Maren - and potentially many others - can no longer say that’s the case.