Kelly McGrath has long been a quietly formidable presence in the world of country-pop songwriting. Her backstory that spans Nashville, LA, and stadium shows with some of the biggest artists in the world, Kelly is now preparing to release her most personal work to date.
Her new album, due later this year, is a record about resilience, renewal, and emotional survival; a reflection of the years she’s spent navigating loss, motherhood, and the ever-changing (and arguably maddening) demands of the modern music industry.
Speaking from her current base in San Diego, McGrath opens up about the song that connected her to Mick Jagger, the importance of chosen family, and the pressures of life as a private artist in a hyper-public age. It’s an intimate conversation that sheds light on a fiercely driven artist still forging her own path, one song at a time.
Harvey: You’ve been travelling a lot recently, but where’s home for you these days?
Kelly: Yeah, I’ve been based in San Diego for the last couple of years, but I still travel back and forth to Nashville quite a lot. I’ve got a home there and an investment property, so I go for writing, recording, meetings, and just to stay connected. Nashville’s still home in a lot of ways.
Harvey: Nashville’s changed a lot, hasn’t it? Over the past 10 or 15 years, it seems to have become this massive creative hub.
Kelly: Oh, absolutely. I love how much it’s grown, and the level of talent that lives there now is just off the charts. But like anything, with growth, you lose some of what made it special. They’ve torn down so many beautiful, historic places, and that small-town, tight-knit feeling is harder to find now. Still, it’s a really special place.
The music industry there is very community-based. It’s one of those places where you really do have to be part of it, go to the shows, show up for other artists. That’s where friendships happen, where creative partnerships are born. It’s just a very different energy to LA, where it can be more transactional. That’s actually where I first met the Rolling Stones.
Harvey: What happened there?
Kelly: Bernard Fowler, who’s been the Stones’ backing vocalist for over 30 years, and I met in LA about 20 years ago. He used to sing at this small club called The Joint on Pico and Robertson every Monday night, with a house band made up of absolute legends: Waddy Wachtel, Phil Jones, Rick Rosas, Brett Tuggle… just incredible musicians. My manager at the time brought me down there, introduced me, and they really took me in. I was this young Nashville songbird who’d just moved to LA. Bernard and I became friends. He brought me in on his solo projects, and he came out to support my shows.
When I moved back to Nashville in 2013, we stayed in touch. Then in 2015, the Stones came through on their Zip Code tour. Bernard brought me to the show, introduced me to the rest of the band, and there was an afterparty, one of the only ones on that tour. I met Pia there, who’s now one of my best friends. It all felt really natural. That’s what’s so magical about Nashville, connections just happen in this really genuine, unforced way.
Harvey: And you ended up playing them your song ‘You and Me Today’, right?
Kelly: Yeah. A few months later, Mick came back to Nashville to write with Jack White, Kings of Leon, Brad Paisley. One night, a bunch of us were back at the hotel, passing around guitars, just playing. I played ‘You and Me Today’, and Mick really connected with it. He came over, started learning the chords, singing along. That moment will stay with me forever. No phones, no ego, just musicians sitting in a circle sharing songs.
Harvey: It must have been such a tender moment. That song’s about your dad, isn’t it?
Kelly: Yeah, my dad passed away in a car accident on Father’s Day when I was 11. I’d written songs about him before, but this one came from a different place. It was actually inspired by a conversation I had with someone who’d just lost his brother. That conversation brought back a lot of my own feelings and made me see them in a new light.
There’s a line in the song about a childhood coat, that feeling of being safe, being held. And as you grow, it doesn’t fit anymore, it’s worn and tattered, but you can’t bring yourself to throw it away. That’s what grief is like. In the music video, I hug a little girl version of myself in front of the grave. Everyone on set was crying. It was one of those moments where you really feel the energy of something greater than yourself.
Harvey: You once said music saved your life. In what way?
Kelly: Writing songs has always been the way I process what I’ve been through. It’s therapy, honestly. You take your pain, whatever it is, and you make something meaningful out of it. And you get to say what you need to say, truthfully, without having to explain it to someone in a conversation.
When you sing something that’s true, people feel it. That’s what connects. And then when someone comes up after a show and says, “That helped me,” it reminds you you’re not just doing this for yourself. It’s healing on both sides.
Harvey: How do you feel about the current pace of the music industry? TikTok, constant singles, daily content…
Kelly: It’s overwhelming. I definitely work in a more old-school way. I value privacy. I don’t want to document my entire life online. I want people to connect with the music, not my coffee order or my morning walk. But the industry now is all about fan engagement, and social media is a big part of that.
I’ve had scary experiences too, including stalkers and unwanted attention. So I’m careful. I never post where I am until after I’ve left. I don’t like being filmed at social gatherings. It’s intrusive. I wish there were more space for mystique again.
Harvey: There’s something sad about losing that mystery of being an artist.
Kelly: Totally. That distance between artist and audience used to be part of the magic. Now everything is visible, constant. I don’t want to be part of the reality-TV era of music.
Harvey: Let’s talk about the new record. What themes are you writing about?
Kelly: Resilience. Getting up off the floor when life knocks you down. Realising that no one’s coming to save you, and that’s okay, because you can save yourself. It’s about rewriting the narrative, letting go of limitations you didn’t realise were holding you back.
A big theme is that it’s never too late. You can start over at any time. Not from scratch, from experience. There’s strength in that. I want the album to inspire people to reclaim their lives, and to celebrate the people who help you do that. Chosen family, especially. Those friends who’ve seen your darkest moments and stuck around.
Harvey: And your daughter’s a huge inspiration too, right?
Kelly: Oh yeah. She’s the love of my life. She’s four now. She sings, plays guitar, dances, she’s already a little performer. But more than that, she’s my teacher. She sees everything. She’s made me so much more aware of how I show up in the world.
There’s a song on the album called ‘Fireworks in Slow Motion’ that’s about her. She’s been a massive part of my healing. And honestly, I was scared when I had her. Scared that motherhood would end my career. But now I see it as a superpower. We make all the people. It should be something that empowers us, not something that sidelines us.
Harvey: That’s such an important thing to say. It’s not said enough.
Kelly: I agree. And I know there’s still a stigma around it, especially for women in music. But motherhood has made me a better artist – more honest, and more whole. I want my daughter to see that her presence didn’t end anything. It deepened everything. She reminds me every day why I do this, and why I have to keep showing up.
Editors’ Picks
- Grief
- Kelly McGrath
- Mick Jagger
- Motherhood
- Music Industry
- Nashville
- new album
- Resilience
- Rolling Stones
- Singer-Songwriter
