In recent times, Maren Morris, has been at something of a crossroads. When I first talked to the Texas-bred, Nashville-based singer-songwriter in 2017, she’d just broken out with her immaculate, country-centered debut album Hero. But thanks to world-shattering collaborations (like the ear-wormy Zedd-produced “The Middle)” and smaller but still noteworthy work with the likes of One Direction’s Niall Horan (“Seeing Blind”) and Thomas Rhett (“Craving You”), Morris appeared to be settling into a comfortable pop-tinged lane— albeit one colored ever-so-slightly by her past country inclinations. Even her massive 2019 follow-up album Girl, was notably highlighted by the pop-leaning smash single, “The Bones.” It seemed likely, that Morris would continue down this glittery pop path for her following LP.
Which makes her new record, Humble Quest, a pleasant swerve.
“It was really organic,” the no-nonsense singer says of her stripped-back, rootsy and undeniably excellent forthcoming new album produced by Greg Kurstin (Adele, Paul McCartney, Foo Fighters), and co-written with songwriting confidantes including her singer-songwriter husband, Ryan Hurd. A harmonious step back more into her country-leaning origins, Humble Quest completely reorients Morris’ place in the musical landscape.
“It forced me to tap back into the lyric being king,” Morris says. As songwriting sessions were often relegated to Zoom, or requiring a forced quarantine before meeting in person, she wasn’t privy to “all the bells and whistles” found in a major pop-production studio. Instead, Morris says, she started almost every Humble Quest song on acoustic guitar. “It was kind of a relief to be able to do it that way, and just focus on the honesty of whatever we were writing that day.”
The result is some of Morris’ most inspired work yet, from the gentle lilt of “The Furthest Thing” to the country rock lead single “Circles Around This Town” and the down-home “Good Friends.” Above all, making this album, and particularly doing so during such an uncertain time, has centered the singer and eased some of her anxieties around reaching new heights in the music industry. “It was realizing that I’m gonna be OK and this ladder of growth that we are all on in the music industry, of just getting to the next phase and selling out the next size capacity venue and breaking this new record, etc., it’s a very unsustainable ladder to be climbing. I think this pandemic and making this record has allowed me the time to realize that.” GQ talked to Morris about the origins of Humble Quest, writing with her husband, and no longer feeling like an outcast.
GQ: What was your mindset heading into what became Humble Quest?
I had my son in March of 2020, and then the pandemic shut all things down. Naturally, I was not in co-writing rooms starting this project with a bunch of track guys that are doing these heavy layers of synths and vocals and 808s. The songs we were doing were starting on acoustic guitar and vocals. That’s what was starting to shape the sound
I’d have to imagine that was something of a return to your songwriting roots.
Yes, and you also get a little more freedom vocally when it’s not instantly married to a track. You can change whatever on the fly because it’s live instruments. Also, the experience of working with the [country supergroup] The Highwomen and [producer] Dave Cobb, and that being such a different recording experience than I was used to because it was all live band tracking in the room at RCA — you’re singing whilst the band plays like they did in the ’60s at that studio — that was really a freeing concept. All of those shades sort of colored where this record ended up.
The idea of co-writing a song via Zoom seems so counterintuitive to the intimacy of the songwriting process
Just feeling someone’s presence and energy while you’re creating a song around whatever conversation you are having is so huge.. I think I tried Zoom co-writing a few times and I just axed it because I hated it so much. The first Zoom I did, Greg [Kurstin] was in Hawaii, I was in Nashville and [songwriter] Sarah Aarons was in London. So I think we had to start writing at 1 p.m. Nashville time and it was like morning in Hawaii and like 10 p.m. in London. I don’t know why we thought that was going to work [laughs]. I guess we got a song that day anyway. And then “Good Friends,” I made [songwriter and Highwomen bandmate] Natalie Hemby come over to my porch and then we Zoomed with Greg who was in Hawaii. That song ended up working out too.
It’s been five years since we last talked . So much has changed in your life.
Well, I was in full radio promo mode during that time when we met, and probably very burned out and just traveling constantly on every 5 a.m. United flight where nothing is routed properly; just so exhausted. I also remember getting strep throat like every six weeks because I was not taking care of myself or sleeping. But at the same time, because you’ve got no bar set yet, I had all the confidence in the world. I was like, “I know who I am. I sound different than everybody. What I’m saying matters.” There was all this amazing confidence that I weirdly had as a brand-new artist. Over time though, I think the reality checks and the humbling happens. But also, a lot of strictures of self — feeling really exposed and people know you for the first time and there’s expectations and numbers that you are trying to meet on Album Two. Just a lot of anxieties that brought all these new insecurities that weren’t there for my first record. And I think the beauty with this album coming out when it is, and how it was written and when it was written — becoming a mother during the pandemic, losing my friend and producer [Busbee], just so many upheavals — it forced me to take a step back and realize I am not and have never been in control. It was a silly thought that I ever thought I was. That allowed me to relax.
Were you previously an anxious person?
I don’t know. But it was my first time to really relax. Part of that was having touring taken away and not being able to move on to the next thing. We all had to come to a screeching halt. I think a lot of people quit their jobs because for the first time they had the time to realize they hated it. Or they realized “I hate this person I’m married to.” There was a lot of that. A lot of enlightenment happened during the last two years. For me, my enlightenment was just chilling the fuck out.
This was also the first time you really viewed what you were doing as running a business.
It was the closest I had ever looked at my finances. I’ve always been frugal and smart with how we’ve toured and who we hire on, and I’ve kept my team really small despite growing in artistic ways. But it was the first time I ever really looked at my books carefully because I had the time to. I was like, “OK, I’ve got to keep these people taken care of, healthcare, etc.” I was previously not a very nuts-and-bolts person. I was just more into the shows and the actual creative process. Which I still am, but now I’m also taking more ownership of my being a CEO at the same time. It empowered me. I feel like I’m just a lot sharper than I was pre-pandemic. You just had a second to stop and look at everything closer
I find it fascinating that you wrote extensively with your husband, Ryan Hurd,
It’s always come really easy to us. That’s how we met. He’s been on my previous albums, but with the songs on this record, just out of necessity and just proximity, he was the one closest to me in the room during the pandemic to write with. I think it was a good couples exercise to write these songs. We said from the beginning when we started dating that music is not the most important thing to our relationship like it used to be when we were just friends and writing but kind of had crushes on each other. We were like, “We can’t date because we can’t mess with the song-energy gods in this room.” And then we got together, and we were like, “OK, that doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe we’ll get some great songs out of each other along the way, but our relationship is more important to us than getting a good song.” The song “I Can’t Love You Anymore,” from Humble Quest, we wrote that on a day we were like pissy with each other and not in a good mood [laughs]. So you never know how things can work out.
You’ve notably struck up friendships with other famous singer-songwriters, from John Mayer to Sheryl Crow. How important have these connections been?
It’s been really helpful to have friends like that. In my teen years I felt really isolated because I was touring as a kid. And my friends on the weekends were having slumber parties and I was playing a honkytonk. I remember when I was 15, I went to LA for the first time by myself on a plane to the first-ever Grammy Camp. And I remember it was the first time that I felt like I met my own kind. And it was all these kids my own age wanting to do this for real. And it’s not just some novelty hobby. “Oh, that’s cute. She’s a singer.” No, these people are not fucking around.
And then yeah, John Mayer has been such an inspiration to me. I remember Continuum, going to that tour during high school; it’s so bizarre to be on his record [“Last Train Home”] 10 years later. And then it’s been so amazing to really pick Sheryl’s brain on how she’s navigated this genre-fluid career that she’s had, one that I would love to shape mine after. That’s been really helpful to me to not feel like such a loner in a very lonely business. When you realize these people are freaks just like you, it makes you hang in one more day.