Just about a decade ago, Midland, then a newly formed country band, landed in Nashville. Making their way to Broadway and greater Music Row, the Dripping Springs, Texas, trio of Mark Wystrach, Jess Carson, and Cameron Duddy noticed something peculiar.
“We all remember vividly just how different we felt walking off the plane,” Wystrach tells Rolling Stone. “We were literally the only three guys wearing cowboy hats and denim in a town full of musicians and performers.
“People would ask, ‘Where’d you get those clothes?’” he continues. “I’m like, ‘In my dirty laundry basket.’”
That initial feeling of being an outsider in Music City plays at the heart of Midland’s sound and look. In the mid-2010s, country music was nearing the high-water mark of bro country: Florida Georgia Line’s “Cruise” was released in 2012, opening the floodgates for an army of copycats in baseball hats and sleeveless Ts hawking an overly produced sound. Midland bucked that trend, opting for eye-catching Nudie-type suits and neo-traditional country tones — neither of which were popular at the time. Some dismissed the band as good-looking guys engaging in cowboy cosplay, while others questioned the group’s “authenticity.”
“We came to Nashville fully formed,” Carson says. “We knew what we wanted to do, so there was nobody who could come and go, ‘You need to do this.’ We were lucky that way, [because] when you come through Nashville as a new artist, it’s hard to not let the system move you in a certain direction.”
Backstage at the Andrew J. Brady Music Center in Cincinnati last week, Midland were preparing for the first show of their nationwide tour in support of the new album Barely Blue.
“It kind of feels like the release of our first album,” Wystrach says. “It’s almost like a fresh start, this beginning of a new chapter for us. We’ve forged this shorthand with one another, where it’s a brotherhood. And to have that vibe 10 years [into our career] is pretty rare.”
Barely Blue was recorded by Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb at his Savannah, Georgia, studio. The sound is signature Midland: silky-smooth George Strait country gold coupled with seamless vocal harmonies influenced by the Eagles. But with Cobb’s fingerprints on the project, there’s added emotional depth and some risk-taking. The record has some distinct Urban Cowboy vibes.
“The songs have matured and [are very] lush, a kind of larger sonic landscape,” says Wystrach. “Working with Dave Cobb was a completely transformative experience.”
“It’s like a live recording,” Carson says. “There’s no overdubs. It’s just very human. Every single thing about recording that album was kind of night and day from the Nashville process.”
Carson says they obliterated any structured 9-to-5 recording hours, and sometimes didn’t begin work in the studio until after sunset. According to Duddy, Cobb “puts a premium on getting you into a creative head space.” Often, that means a good meal and even better bottle of wine.
“In Savannah, we immersed ourselves in the culture, food, nightlife and historic quality of [the city],” Duddy says. “The location is going to create an atmosphere and its own kind of character. And that certainly applied to the way this album turned out.”
Barely Blue evokes images and sentiments of wonderment and playfulness associated with Midland. There’s also a relaxation mode activated, where the listener is purposely slowed down. It’s that notion of “Tybee Time,” a saying on the beach bum island just outside Savannah. Grab a seat and a cold drink. No need to be in a hurry. We’ll get there, somewhere, eventually.
“Sometimes you just get lucky and you don’t ask why,” Wystrach croons on the album standout “Lucky Sometimes.” “It’s like falling up to heaven/coming up a seven/every time you roll the dice.”
Before Midland, Wystrach, Carson, and Duddy befriended one another through various social circles in and around Los Angeles. Each was on their own path of creative fulfillment. Hailing from rural Arizona, Wystrach was pursuing a career in acting and modeling, while Duddy started gaining traction as a music video director (he’s helmed many of Bruno Mars’ videos). Carson, who grew up on an Oregon tree farm, was trying his hand at becoming a professional musician, something the other two also yearned for.
“The first night I met Cameron, he was at my house for a late-night party,” Wystrach grins. “I walked into the living room and he was playing boogie-woogie on the piano with his pants around his ankles.”
“And I was wearing a 1940s football helmet,” Duddy chimes in.
“Yep,” Wystrach nods. “And my initial thought was, ‘I should be in a band with that guy.’”
Thus, the stars began to align for the formation of Midland (named after Dwight Yoakam’s song “Fair to Midland”). When other band projects fell apart, what remained were Wystrach, Carson, and Duddy. Within their friendship there was a deep love and common bond over real-deal country music, artists that remain core influences for Midland — George Jones to Waylon Jennings, Alabama to Mark Chesnutt.
“There’s just such a large swath of influence you can pull from in country music,” Wystrach says. “There’s elements of rock & roll, the blues, gospel, bluegrass and folk. And country is really soulful when it’s done well — it really tugs at the heart.”
“In country, you’ve got to tell a story in three minutes,” Carson adds. “It’ll always be a challenge to try to do that, and do it better. That’s what I love.”
At Duddy’s 2013 wedding in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the trio found themselves playing songs together on a front porch in the days leading up to the ceremony. Something clicked. But it wasn’t until early 2014 where the foundation of Midland solidified. Wystrach and Carson headed to the Sonic Ranch in El Paso, Texas, to record a demo. With his video camera in hand, Duddy was simply going to document the sessions.
“When I showed up, I had zero intention of being in a band,” Duddy says of being pulled into the recording sessions by happenstance. “That’s why I brought a camera instead of a bass. But the energy was palpable and very experiential.”
“We knew we had something,” Wystrach says. “Then, we all flew home and listened to the songs. And there was this moment of, ‘OK, we’re going to do this.’ Everybody had things going on, but we dropped our lives to do this.”
With the Sonic Ranch recording in hand, it was onward to Nashville. There wasn’t anything that looked or sounded like Midland taking the stage at local venues and showcases at the time — let alone being played on mainstream radio — but the trio did find some solidarity in the music industry.
“We traveled around the U.S. in a van, talking to radio stations and program directors,” Wystrach says. “They were older guys. They’d say, ‘It’s cool you’re doing this throwback [country] thing. The pendulum is going to swing. Everything is going to change. Just wait.’”
It did. And Midland were instrumental to that pivot.
Wystrach pauses when asked about what it means to be considered pioneers in the latest neo-traditional comeback. “It’s weird to be able to sit here and go, ‘It took 10 years, but it actually has happened,’” he says. “Country is more traditional than it has been in quite a while.”
