Ashley McBryde has built her reputation as one of Nashville’s most fearless and incisive voices, a GRAMMY, CMA and ACM award-winner whose songwriting cuts through with unflinching honesty and grit. From her breakthrough to the critically acclaimed ‘Never Will,' one of the rare albums to land Country Album of the Year nominations at all three major awards. McBryde has consistently balanced sharp storytelling with a sound that fuses traditional country and raw-edged rock across all her following albums.
A Grand Ole Opry member and one of the genre’s most respected lyricists, she now arrives at a defining moment with her new album ‘Wild,' an 11-track, deeply personal project tracing the path to her sobriety and unpacking the weight of her Arkansas upbringing, faith and self-reckoning. Bold and emotionally unguarded, ‘Wild' doesn’t just mark a new chapter, it positions McBryde at the forefront of the genre, with a record that feels poised to dominate year-end conversations and major awards alike. We caught up with her recently to talk all about it and more.
How are you feeling this morning? Have you recovered from last night yet? (We were lucky to be at Ashley's intimate album launch show at All Saints Church in Kingston-upon-Thames the night before)
I am… I am tired after last night. But I actually feel pretty good today. I cannot believe the sun has been out all of the days here so far. This is the third day of sunshine here, it’s unbelievable. I know it’ll pay for it at some point, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts. (laughing)
I’ve got to say, being in the room last night felt really special. What did it feel like from your side of the stage?
It was… I don’t wanna just say something cheap like “magical,” because it was more than that. It was vibrant and alive, and it felt important. It’s one thing to do a promo show for a new record, and it’s cool that it was in a church, but being in it, experiencing all of us there together, it just felt so important.
You looked like you were picking the songs as you went: were you just going with the moment?
Yeah, it was definitely one of those nights where I leaned into the moment rather than sticking to anything too rigid. I had done a bit of prep, I always do, so I had a piece of paper with a bunch of song titles written down, kind of like a safety net. And on the back of that page I’d even written, “Let’s pretend nobody comes,” and picked out three songs that I thought flowed well together, just so I had somewhere to start no matter what. That way, if I walked out and it felt quiet or uncertain, I wouldn’t be scrambling, I’d have a foundation.
But of course, that’s never really how it goes over here. As soon as I got out there, I could feel the room straight away. I’ve been coming back to the UK for a long time now, and there were so many familiar faces in that crowd, it honestly felt like seeing old friends. That makes such a difference, because you’re not just playing to an audience, you’re kind of sharing something with them. And then that front row in particular: they were so emotional, so engaged, so locked in, it just made it really easy to read where to go next.
So after those first few songs, it became less about the list and more about following the energy. I was watching people, feeling how they were reacting, and letting that guide what came next. If something felt like it needed to get a little lighter, I’d go there. If it felt like the room could handle something heavier, I’d lean into that. It’s almost like a conversation at that point, you’re listening as much as you’re playing. And in a setting like that, especially in a church where everything feels a little more intimate and exposed, you really want to honour that connection. So yeah, I had a plan… but the night itself kind of told me what it wanted to be.
You’re back here in July with Garth Brooks at Hyde Park: that must feel a bit surreal?
I am borderline scared to play Hyde Park. It just seems like such a big thing to say. A few months ago I was here playing Royal Albert Hall, and that felt surreal, Hyde Park feels the same. Saying I’m playing Hyde Park with Garth Brooks sounds like I’m making it up. (laughing)
With a crowd that big, does it change how you approach your set at all?
Yeah, I think we’ll have to. One of our jobs as a support act is to prep the audience, to get their energy up to where it needs to be for Garth, without asking them to spend too much of it before he gets on stage. So it’ll be high energy. The record will be out by then, and there are so many songs we’ve been dying to play. We’ll still play the hits, of course, but it’s gonna be a jump-around kind of set.
I’ve spent a lot of time with ‘Wild' now, and it feels like your most personal record. Did you have a moment where you realised just how much of yourself was in it?
Yeah, there really was a moment, and it wasn’t even during the writing, it was afterwards, when I was looking at everything as a whole. I was sitting there with all these songs, trying to do what I always do, which is figure out the through-line. You know, “What’s the story here? What’s the narrative I’m telling? How do I shape this into something cohesive?” And I kept looking for it, trying to piece it together like I would with any other record.
And then it kind of hit me all at once… there wasn’t a story to construct. There wasn’t anything to shape or fictionalise or connect in a clever way. It was just… me. Every song, every theme, every thread, it was all coming from the same place, and it was all pointing back to my own life. And I remember having that moment of going, “Oh… this isn’t me telling stories about other people. This is me, start to finish.” And that’s when it really sank in how personal it was.
I think in the past, even when I’ve written really honest songs, there’s been a little bit of distance. You can tuck yourself behind a character, or shift the perspective slightly, or soften the edges. But with this record, there was nowhere to hide. And once I realised that, it was both kind of terrifying and also really freeing. Because if it’s already all there, if it’s already all you, then there’s no point in holding anything back. You might as well just tell the truth as clearly as you can.
And I think that’s what makes ‘Wild' feel different to me. It’s not just personal in pieces: it’s personal all the way through. It’s not a collection of stories, it’s a reflection. And once I saw that clearly, there was no going back from it.
The title ‘Wild' is such a strong statement. What does that word mean to you in the context of the record?
I think “wild” ended up being the only word that could really hold everything that’s happening on the record, because it means so many different things depending on how you look at it, and all of those meanings exist somewhere in these songs. On one level, it’s the obvious one: unruly, a little out of control, the parts of yourself that don’t fit neatly into a box. That’s in there for sure, the mistakes, the chaos, the choices that maybe weren’t always the best but were very real.
But then there’s another side of “wild” that feels just as important to me, which is the idea of questioning things you were taught to believe were fixed or certain. There are moments on this record where I’m looking back at belief systems, at the way I was raised, at things that once felt very rigid and now, as an adult, I can look at them and go, “That’s kind of wild that I thought that way,” or “That’s wild that I was taught that was the only way to see the world.” So it’s not just chaos, it’s perspective shifting too.
And then, of course, there’s the really personal side of it. Talking openly about having an alcohol problem, about sobriety, about the messier parts of my life, that’s wild for me. That’s not something I would have done before. So the title also reflects that willingness to step into uncomfortable territory and just be honest about it.
We tried a lot of other titles, and some of them made sense for one or two songs, but none of them could stretch across the whole project. You couldn’t call it just one theme, because it’s bigger than that. ‘Wild' kind of sweeps over everything: it’s the thread that connects the chaos, the questioning, the healing and even the hope.
I think at the heart of it, ‘wild' is also about reconnecting with that part of yourself that believed anything was possible. That younger version of you that wasn’t so boxed in or guarded. The record asks, “Do you miss that? And if you do… why not go find it again?”
I’m glad you played ‘Hand Me Downs' last night because that’s actually my favourite song on the album. It feels like the emotional core of the whole record for me. When you sing lines like “I’m only made of broken things I can't stand” it really hits hard. How are you navigating that in your own life now—trying to understand those inherited traits, where they come from, and how they shape who you are today?
That line hurts me too, every time. And I think that’s why it ends up feeling like such a centrepiece on the record, because it’s not just me pointing at myself and saying, “Look what a mess I am.” It’s also me recognising, “Look at what I was handed and how tightly I’ve been holding onto it.” And that’s a different kind of reckoning. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I can’t ever fully get rid of those things, they’re part of where I come from, but I also don’t have to carry them around with me in the same way I always have.
For a long time, I really believed that I was made of broken things I couldn’t stand. Being the youngest, growing up where I did, and especially in a family where any kind of discomfort, whether that was sadness, anxiety, confusion, was meant to be kept quiet, you learn to internalise everything. That was the procedure. You didn’t talk about it, you didn’t show it, you just tucked it away and kept going. And when that’s how you’re raised, it becomes really hard to separate what’s yours from what’s been passed down to you.
But I think what’s changed for me is being able to look at those same traits from a different angle. Instead of just seeing brokenness, I can now see resilience in there, and stubbornness, and even a kind of ingenuity. I had to figure out how to be a person with the tools I was given, and yeah, a lot of the time I got it wrong—but sometimes I got it right too. And that matters. Writing that song was a big part of that shift for me. It helped me loosen my grip on that idea that I’m only made of things I can’t stand, and start to recognise that those same pieces also helped me survive, helped me grow, and in some ways, helped me become who I am now.
‘The Bottle Tells Me So' is one of the most powerful things you’ve written. How did you even begin to approach telling that story within the rules and confines of a three minute song?
It was one of those writing sessions where everything just lined up exactly the way it was supposed to. I was in the room with Terri Jo Box and Shelly Fairchild. There’s a long history there because Terri Jo and I have been friends for over a decade, and we both keep these running notes in our phones. Mine is literally called “Shit TJ Says,” and hers is “Shit Ashley Says.” (laughing) At some point years ago, I had said, ‘the bottle tells me so' and it just sat there. And looking back, it’s kind of wild that neither of us had written it before or taken it somewhere else, because it’s such a strong title. But I really believe the universe holds onto things until it’s the right time, and that day, it was.
By the time we wrote it, I was three years and some change sober, so I was in a place where I could actually look at that part of my life honestly, without trying to protect it or sugarcoat it. And that really shaped the way we approached the song. There was no conversation about whether it could be a single, or whether it fit any kind of format, none of that was allowed in the room. It was just the three of us asking, “How do we make this feel the way it actually felt?” That was the only goal. And because of that, we were able to strip everything back and just say the things that needed to be said, even if they were uncomfortable.
When we finished it, there wasn’t this big celebratory moment: it was more like we all just sat there for a second. I remember thinking, “I feel kind of gross… but also really proud.” It’s like you’ve just dragged yourself through something heavy and messy, and you’re not clean on the other side of it, but you know you did the work. That’s what that song feels like to me. It’s not polished or pretty, it’s honest. And I think that’s why it hits the way it does.
You spoke very openly with Bobby Bones recently about your journey with alcohol. It was an incredibly powerful, emotional conversation that clearly resonated with a lot of people. After something like that goes out into the world, what is the emotional impact on you in the days that follow, having shared something so personal on that scale?
I had what I call “the scaries” afterwards: kind of like hangover anxiety, which is ironic given what we were talking about. Just that feeling of, “I cannot believe I said all of that out loud.” You replay it in your head and think, “Did I overshare? Did I go too far?” And there’s a vulnerability hangover that comes with that. It’s not regret exactly, but it’s that exposed feeling where you suddenly realise just how much of yourself you’ve let people see.
And I get frustrated sometimes, because I cry, and I’m emotional about it but then I have to remind myself that being able to feel things is actually a gift. There was a time in my life where I wasn’t really feeling anything, or I was numbing it out, and I had a friend when I was in treatment who said something that stuck with me. I was annoyed at myself for crying one day, and he said, “Do you know what I’d give to be able to have an emotion, name it, feel it and experience it? I can’t.” And he told me, “So you just cry for the both of us.” That really shifted something for me. It made me realise that even the uncomfortable emotions are part of being alive.
At the same time, there’s this push and pull, because there’s a part of you that really wants to be known. There’s so much to my story, and I want people to understand it, especially if it helps them feel less alone. But then the flip side of that is, it’s terrifying. (laughing) Because once it’s out there, it’s out there. You can’t take it back, you can’t unring that bell. So it’s this constant balance between, “I’m glad I said that, I’m glad it might help someone,” and also, “Wow… now everybody knows.”
I’m heading over to Nashville for CMA Fest and I’ve got your Redemption bar firmly on my list. So, I’ve got to ask, if I walk in there for the first time, what are you telling me to order? What’s the drink that really sums the place up for you?
It’s honestly hard for me to pick just one, because the whole idea behind Redemption is that there’s something for everybody, no matter what your taste is or where you’re at. The Martini McBryde is probably the one people talk about the most: it’s an espresso martini and it’s become a bit of a signature, people really love it. But for me personally, I always come back to the American Scandal. That’s the one I drink when I’m on stage there, and it just feels like “my” drink.
If you’re someone who leans toward bourbon or those deeper, richer flavours, that’s probably where I’d point you first. It’s got that kind of old fashioned feel to it: familiar, comforting, but still a little bit elevated. And then you’ve got others on the menu like Flickering Flames of Hell, which has a bit of spice to it, so it really depends on what kind of mood you’re in or what your palate is leaning toward that day.
For me, Redemption isn’t just about the drinks themselves, it’s about creating a space where people can come in and feel comfortable, whether they drink or they don’t. So whatever you order, the goal is that it feels intentional, it feels like something you chose because it suits you. But yeah… if you’re asking me? Start with an American Scandal. That’s a good place to begin.
And finally, looking back on last night, because it really did feel like one of those rare, special shows, what’s the moment that’s stayed with you the most this morning? The one that you’ve taken away with you?
It really was so special. I got off stage and went back to the dressing room and everybody just kind of looked at me like, “Are you okay?” And I was like, “That was amazing.” You don’t always get those nights where everything just lines up, the room, the people, the feeling, and last night was one of those.
There was one moment that’s really stayed with me. I was singing ‘For The Love of a Song,' and there’s that line about what makes the one you’ve been humming and what lights the fire in us and keeps the dreamers all dreaming and there was this young man standing dead centre in the crowd. Probably mid-twenties, kind of a round face, a bit of a goatee. And right in that moment, in this church, he just lifted his head and started crying.
And that was it for me. You probably saw it. I just kind of hit that point where I was like, “Nope, I’ve gotta go,” because it got me. That’s the thing about those kinds of shows… you realise exactly why you’re doing it. It’s not just about playing songs, it’s about those connections, those moments where somebody feels seen or something hits them in a way they didn’t expect. And that one, that’s the one I’ll carry with me from last night.
Check out Ashley McBryde's superb, future award-winning album ‘Wild' which is out everywhere today. You can read our five star review of it right here
