Brittany Howard could do a metal album next

“THE PATH I AM ON Being a farmer is ridiculous,” says Brittany Howard, sitting in the luxury William Vale Hotel during her trip to New York. He fantasizes about a possible future where he might have a farm like the one he grew up on. It's one of the many ways she can see herself adding to the list of non-musical hobbies in her repertoire starting in 2020: boat repair, fishing.

But don't worry, music is still on the mind of the former Alabama Shakes frontman at 35. He has a new solo album, Now what, is expected to be released on February 2nd. He began working on it in 2020 while sequestered in a rented house in Nashville. It is her second solo album (following 2019's Recognition Jaime) and her first on Island Records, the label she signed with earlier this year. Its creation was a testament to a newfound patience that translates into some of her most grounded and thoughtful music to date.

You wrote this album at a time when you were still waiting to tour your 2019 solo debut more widely. How was that?
Honestly, I put it to the side. I just wanted to stay alive. There was so much going on in the world… Black Lives Matter, a whirlwind where I was living in Nashville, helping people pick the pieces back up. Everyone was worried about their job security. I was sad about it, but as time went on, I was like, “Oh, it's really nice not to be on the road… Look, seasons! Birds!” It was nice to see nature come to life. And because I had to take this break, I had to get more creative. I started writing all this new music with a different take on things.

What were the biggest things you ended up learning about yourself during that time?
I changed so much, honestly, just because I couldn't go anywhere. It was like me against me. I answered this call to be: “What do I want my life to look like?” It was like a little mid-life crisis. It was me making decisions to change things that didn't serve me, but also my outlook on life in general and not taking people for granted. I feel that in these three years I have grown a lot.

Did that moment make you rethink how you approached music?
i was renting a house [so] I didn't have a studio. There was a tiny children's room in the house and just a laptop. Very basic. I said, “I'm going to go in here and record something that I feel every day. It doesn't matter what kind it is. Just sit down and do it.'' I told myself it doesn't have to be good. This was new. I used to really torture myself.

I feel like that's a bonus of growing up and realizing that you don't have to be in the worst possible circumstances to create something good.
I used to think it would appear then. When I did Jaime, I was in a greenhouse and it was 103 degrees. I was like “Now I can write.” It was strange to be so comfortable [for What Now]. There was no deadline.

when [Alabama Shakes] He made Sound & Color, I locked myself in the basement and there was a bat in there. Super stressed, only working at night, sleeping all day, hitting coffee, like, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, I was like, “So you're doing a good job.”

What was that? Were you superstitious?
I guess I thought that the more relaxed I was mentally—the crazier I was—the less I would judge the play. Then I learned that you just can not judge your work.

How has this mindset affected your life outside of work?
There was almost no life outside of work. This was a problem.

Still searching for that balance?
I understood the balance, for sure. This is a tough business. When you're a creative person, so much of your identity is wrapped up in what you create. There are no limits to this. You say, “This is all of me.” And that's all well and good, but what if there's more to life? This was something I was visiting because it had been taken away from all of us. It was terrifying. I had to get a life.

How does this life look to you?
I slow down and appreciate the people around me more. Nature, little things. Even the sun coming out of the window is something that can make me really happy. I thought it was success and awards and money — all these things that we think will make us happy. But in those few years, I was like, “Man, I'm thankful that the oxygen I'm breathing is pure. I'm happy to be able to breathe.” There is no prize at the end for working yourself to death.

You've said that the timeline of this album is heartbreaking and the breakdown of your own romantic patterns. Can you say more about the patterns you analyzed?
How can I say something without saying too much? [Laughs.] I think there was a withdrawal pattern on my end. Because of the way I grew up as an only child, I got used to my company. Anyone in my space would feel overwhelmed. After all, this is no fun. It was something I looked into, and I'd say it's fixed.

Have romantic relationships gotten easier since you figured it out?
I think that remains to be seen. I feel like I'm spending more time with myself, getting less involved in a relationship — which I feel like a lot of us fall into. It's natural for love to feel good.

What about your friendships?
I certainly don't take things personally [anymore], and I ask my friends what they need from me — whereas before, I would just try to do what I wanted. I guess I pay more attention.

You have been in a few bands and now have a few solo albums. What else are you interested in exploring in the future?
I just follow my creativity. It really is that simple. If I get tired of doing the solo stuff by myself, I'll do something else. But I'd like to do metal next, probably. I've loved that since high school, but since the Shakes took off I never got a chance to get in there and do that.

What are some of your favorite metal bands?
I liked American Nightmare, Lamb of God, Slipknot, Blood Brothers. People will come to me in the comments: “This is not metal! These are screamo artists, that's hardcore!” I just like loud rock music.