I first met Margo Price on a rainy February day in Nashville, only about a month before the release of her 2016 debut, Midwestern Farmer’s Daughter, a collection of songs about loss, drinking to fight off the pain, going to jail, and music industry sleaziness. We’d met at the Nashville Palace, just down the road from the Grand Ole Opry. After about an hour of conversation in the empty back room, we headed over to the Willie Nelson and Friends Museum and General Store.
The place had all the Willie goods you could ever want: headbands with fake braids, Willie’s bloody mary mix, Willie for President shirts (he campaigns on behalf of the
“Party Party,” apparently). What my article never mentioned is that once we’d bought our souvenirs, she kindly offered to drive me a half-hour out of her way to where I was staying, and told me a bit about what she’d been going through.
There hadn’t been a lot of talk about Midwest Farmer’s Daughter yet. By that point in her life, she’d endured years of hardships, living in