It’s minor chaos in the Kelsea Ballerini household at the moment. When the 29-year-old country singer returned from tour rehearsal a few minutes ago, her carbon-monoxide detector was on full five-alarm blast, forcing her to run out of the house with little more than her phone and plop down in the safe, humid air — only to then have to duck a couple of aggressive hornets. “So now I’m sitting outside melting like the Wicked Witch,” Ballerini says. She’s already in the midst of a press run for her fourth album, Subject to Change (out now), but why not add more chaos to keep things exciting?

Noxious fumes and winged insects are nothing in comparison, after all, to the release week that preceded her previous record, Kelsea, which came out March 20, 2020, right as the country shut down (she had to do drone merch drops to fans instead of a proper release party). It’s a playful LP about insecurities, finding peace at home, and salvation through therapy from the point of view of a married woman. She reflects on that time period on a new song, “Doin’ My Best” (“2020 was a weird year,” she sings), with the kind of overwhelmed understatement we’ve all used to express the inexpressible and with direct lyrics that unroll everything that’s happened since: the marriage that turned into divorce (“Therapy for one became therapy for two”), the pop-star feature she regrets (“I woulda never asked if I knew we wouldn’t talk anymore” — likely a callout to Halsey, who featured on Kelsea cut “The Other Girl”), and some online blunders (“Twitter kicked my ass”).

“I always thought that being a good songwriter was who could come up with the best metaphor,” Ballerini says. “I realized that sometimes the best hook is just the most obvious one.” This record, she says, “is much more direct: It’s how I talk to my friends when I’m two margaritas in on a Friday.”

Subject to Change is also Ballerini’s most sonically rich record — and her most country. “If You Go Down (I’m Goin’ Down Too)” is piled high with fiddle, dobro, and mandolin, and Ballerini’s vocals ring fresh and clear thanks to tracking the whole thing live, while “You’re Drunk, Go Home” goes full-on ’90s honky-tonk kiss-off with the assistance of Carly Pearce and Kelly Clarkson. Ballerini went deep into that decade in quarantine: Shania Twain, Sheryl Crow, Faith Hill. “I listened to a shit ton of Sheryl during this process,” Ballerini says. “So naturally you hear that. And ironically, not purposefully, it’s the most sonically country record I’ve made. I love that people probably expected something else.”

The jury’s still out on whether Ballerini will get the same kind of penguin clap awarded to male country stars who dare to add a shadow of fiddle to a radio single and are instantly pegged as the genre’s salvation, but Ballerini is on the road to her proper due as one of Nashville’s finest pop-country songwriters (and now also a published poet). The wordsmith that she is, we decided to talk through some lyrics from a few of her favorite classic country songs — and a few from Subject to Change — on how they set the album’s tone and inspired her to both look inward and cut loose.

The Lyric That Stopped Me in My Tracks

“It took a while for her to figure out she run / But when she did, she was long gone”— “Stupid Boy,” Keith Urban

It was back in middle school. I don’t know if it was just the age I was or what my parents were going through, but it was a song that really made an impact on me. And I think as I’ve grown up and had different relationships and experienced life, the song changes meanings for me. You’ll hear a lot of discovery of self on my record. And you also hear a lot of taking inventory of my heart, and that lyric kind of coincides with that feeling. There’s so much freedom in that line. I keep using the word ownership, but I feel it on this album. There’s freedom in taking ownership of your choices in your life.

The Lyric That Made Me Think About Showing Up for Women

“Girl, watch your mouth and watch your weight / Mind your manners, smile for the camera / And pose like a trophy on a shelf / Dream for everyone but not yourself / I’ve heard of God the Son and God the Father / I’m still looking for a God for the daughters” — “Daughters,” Little Big Town

“Daughters” is all about standing up for ourselves, and the way I have found to do that best is by writing the most authentically I can about the really beautiful parts of womanhood and the really difficult parts, and I think I explore that a lot on this record. That’s the through-line throughout the whole thing. And there’s a billion different ways to not just say “I support women” but actually do it. I’ve certainly had to recalibrate my brain on that because at first I was like, Oh, everyone has to be best friends! Sleepovers! Drink wine! And it doesn’t work like that. I’ve tried to include more women in my storytelling and the process of making records. That’s taken some growing up and some trial and error, and it’s the best way I can show up honestly for women.

The Verse That Captures Where I’m At

“She traveled this road as a child / Wide-eyed and grinning, she never tried / But now she won’t be coming back with the rest / If these are life’s lessons, she’ll take this test” — “Wide Open Spaces,” the Chicks

I did this weird thing where I stole the mailbox from my childhood home. And in therapy, I write letters to my younger self and put them in my actual childhood mailbox, which still says “Ballerini” down the side, and it’s moldy and rusty and absolutely repulsive. I just love the idea of reconnecting with my little me, the most pure version of ourselves. And I love this lyric. I think that’s the tone of the record, when you grow up and evolve and change, and not everyone is going to do that with you. That’s a really hard part of life, and it’s an okay part of life. I definitely think I skirt around that a lot on this record: the blissful, youthful naïveté of “I don’t know what’s next.” I’m going to choose to not be frozen in fear and just jump right in, baby, with my heart first.

The Lyric That Set the Unapologetic Tone of Subject to Change

“No inhibitions, make no conditions / Get a little outta line / I ain’t gonna act politically correct / I only wanna have a good time” — “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!,” Shania Twain

Unapologetic is exactly the word I would use. Like, cursing on a record was a choice I have never made before. And it was a choice I made for this record (“When you get married that young, you got a lotta shit you gotta get through,” she sings on “Doin’ My Best”), and it was just unapologetic. I feel like Shania has continued to do that in her career in so many ways, whether it’s her fashion choices, the videos she makes, or owning herself as a woman. She’s become a mentor to me and just is so wise. The other day after the ACM Honors, I sat on her balcony till 2 a.m. drinking wine and picking her brain, and I was in awe because she’s been through so much and is so resilient. And even in her resilience she still pushes, and that to me is the making of an icon.

The Lyric That’s Perfectly Direct

“Get along while we can / Always give love the upper hand / Paint a wall, learn to dance / Call your mom, buy a boat / Drink a beer, sing a song / Make a friend, can’t we all get along”— “Get Along,” by Kenny Chesney

Honestly, I just love how simple it is. Sometimes the most obvious lyrics are the best, where everyone can grab on and sing along, and I tried to do that on “Doin’ My Best.” I wanted the chorus to feel like how the first time you hear it, you can sing along. Just like Kenny is saying, Can’t we all get along? We’re all gonna die someday, I’m just saying, I’m doing my best. “Call your mom,” “drink a beer”: It’s not that deep. I say that to my friends a lot: “It’s not that deep.” That’s another part of growing up, where you really learn where to invest your emotions — let’s just not make things more complicated.

The Subject to Change Lyric That Feels Like the Album’s Thesis Statement

“If I’m honest / Growing up it, kind of hurts like hell / It’s chaotic, ironic, but / It’s how I learn to find myself” — “Subject to Change”

I feel like this is the thesis statement and the last few years of my life. It’s messy, and it’s supposed to be. There are big feelings, and I’m lucky enough to have big experiences, and that leaves a lot of room for good big and bad big, and all of it helps you become who you’re going to be. And that second verse really tees it up to be like, Buckle up — we’re gonna bring you through the chaos!

The Subject to Change Lyric That’s a Big Sister to “Homecoming Queen?”

“I can see how it seemed / Through an L.A. silver screen / But I can also see how it’d drive me to pills”— “Marilyn”

“Marilyn” is the metaphor for somebody who presents so beautifully and charming and bubbly and charismatic, but there’s so many more layers to everyone. It’s the first song I wrote for the record in summer 2020. The Marilyn film comes out the day the record drops, so that’s a cosmic full circle, but I just deeply feel like everyone is so internet famous now and it’s creating this toxic bubble of surrealism. I certainly fall into that a lot, but at the same time, I realize I am someone who some people look to sometimes, and I struggle with how to present myself, my feelings, and my life and what’s too much and what’s not enough. Those were all feelings that I had during “Homecoming Queen?” and certainly during “Marilyn.”

Kelsea Ballerini’s Country Favorites