KIP MOORE: MAKING SOLITARY TRACKS

Vasili Papathanasopoulos

1 day ago

MARCH 2025

Photographs by Vasili Papathanasopoulos.

I first met Kip Moore in September 2024. The country music superstar was in the midst of an extensive Australian tour, marking his fifth and biggest tour down under, when arriving to his cover shoot with MILKY. Spending an hour together, he shared stories from his time spent in Australia and quickly builds a camaraderie. We meet again over zoom months later, as Moore has returned home fresh from two months spent “listening to a lot of seventies rock-and-roll on my way to surf breaks.” At this point in time, Solitary Tracks had yet to enter the public domain. “Oh yeah, I got an album coming. That's right,” he jokes. Moore’s demeanour is calm, cool and collected as he approaches the release of his sixth studio album, and perhaps that is because he is more in tune with his craft than ever before.

With Solitary Tracks, Moore is breaking the mould. Leaving behind the optics of Nashville and the pressures of being signed to a country music label, he has instead partnered with Virgin Music Group for the next ambitious era of his career. Whilst he tells me a driving force of his career has been “always doing what I wanted to do,” his time spent within the epicentre of the industry side of Nashville came with its own anxieties. Following the commercial success of his debut album, Up All Night, Moore shifted gears on its follow up, Wild Ones, creating “the exact record I wanted to make.” That change and ferocious commitment to his artistry, he says, instilled a fear in his former record label, but ultimately proved he had his finger on the pulse. It did not however alleviate any of the pressures of being a country music superstar. “When you are with a major Nashville label, there's definitely that sense of disappointment that you feel from them if you're not giving them commercial hits. So there is that thing that's always in the back of your head, like, 'well, maybe I should give them this song that I wrote because it might give 'em a little something they can work with.” I ask him where he stands with that idea now, on the precipice of Solitary Tracks. He simply states, “now, there's no thought of that.” Instead, he leans more into experimentation, both in the albums structure and its sound.

Clothing, artists own. Image: Vasili Papathanasopoulos.

The record takes on a new format for the musician; splitting twenty three songs across four sides. Side A and B forms the basis for Solitary Tracks, and was set to be the albums complete track list coming in at thirteen songs. Once the album was complete, a full three months before the record needed to be handed in, Moore kept writing - a relatively normal thing for the musician to do upon completing a body of work. However, for the first time he felt perhaps there was more to the story that could be presented as a double record. “I was done in my head with that record. I was done with what I needed to say after Southern Sun. And then it was like, I kept writing and then there was kind of like a new, I was in a different mindset. I felt different. The songs started feeling different, and I was just kind of like let's just make an eclectic bag of these songs that I'm writing for the last three months, and let's give them something we've never done and just make a double kind of record. So that's what we did.” When asking if he has ever wanted to do this with a previous record, he tells me that this was an endeavour to create a gift for his fans. “It was more for me just being like, I wanted to give them as many songs as possible before I go in and make another record, which I'm already doing right now [laughs].” That’s right, he has already set his sights on his next body of work - but let’s focus on the present.

Not only is Solitary Tracks his longest album to date, it offers a multifaceted view on Moore as an artist. Across his first five records, the musician has subtly created characters, or versions of himself, that explore his own personal experiences. Here, he is turning more inward in real-time, entering the mirror he is holding up to himself. “This is very much just about me and a piece of me instead of like a nostalgic version of me, or things that I've seen and picked up on with other characters. This is very much a knowing who I've always been in life, but being a little more comfortable with that person.” The albums first two sides present themselves as an acknowledgement of finding inner peace and freeing yourself from the shackles of the past, whilst the latter two sides are laced with defiance. “Side C and D is just more of an eclectic hodgepodge of songs. But A and B was a very clear cut vision, and it was an unpacking of the closet of all the baggage that you subconsciously bury that you don't wanna face. At some point, you gotta face it. It's making peace with that. It's saying you're sorry to the people you need to in your heart. It's giving yourself grace to be able to shut the door and move on.” This self-examination and reflection on his past, helped Moore chart how he has paved his own path and walks to the beat of his own drum. He concludes this does not come from a place of defiance, but from a place of relishing and growing in discomfort - a theme explored throughout the album. “I just usually know that I don't want to do exactly what the crowd's doing because I know that's gonna be comfortable. And I seem to thrive a little more in uncomfortable situations. So it's understanding all those things about myself. And then there's a lot of unpacking.”

Clothing, artists own. Image: Vasili Papathanasopoulos.

When speaking on his own self-discoveries during this process, Moore shares he found he was holding on to hurt - be that self-inflicted or by the hands of another. He offers this analogy of his career; that it is a house built by him, and those around him directly involved in his career. “I was holding on to these things that I wanted to let go of. So you got songs like High Hopes, and that's like I can still see where this train is going. I kind of felt like I was in the trenches with this team, that we were all building this house together. And then I felt like the team was like, 'oh man, you're doing great. This is cool. We'll be back in a little bit.' You know? Then all the focus was on all these other little houses, and some of 'em were straw huts that were getting blown over. And then you're trying to build new ones. And they'd look at mine and be like, 'oh man, it's cool. It's still standing over there. It's still rocking through all these storms and it's still over there. We'll get back to you in a minute.' I was holding on to some of that. That's my own fault, for holding on to that. During that time, you just wanted to feel a little bit appreciated to where it's like, 'okay, I need some help putting this roof on. I've got this badass, sturdy foundation, but we need to put this roof on at some point,' you know? And there it goes through another hurricane, still standing, got a little graffiti on it. Now it's got a little this and that, but it's still rocking with these other ones. So I was holding on to that.” Maintaining these thoughts and experiences, he found, kept him from living his life feeling free - remiss of the troubles in his head.

Moore finds music as a means to communicate, almost a cathartic process to heal and unpack his own baggage. He tells me in particular about his relationship to his father. “I think about my dad every day and things that I wish I'd said to him. Things that I wish I would've buried the hatchet on between us. How much I wish I'd have told him, how much I appreciated what he did for us. Because I know it was a struggle making the little amount of money that he made with six kids, but still, we always felt taken care of. We didn't have things, but we felt taken care of. I know that was tough and he had to give up a lot of his dreams for us. There's so many things that I wish I'd have said.” Through using songwriting as a tool to process his own grief and regrets, he found he was able to release it. He does note that whilst the “baggage” is never gone, he is able to feel a bit lighter. This extends into songs including Southern Son - a track that explores Moore’s remorse over infrequently visiting his home. When examining side A and B against side C and D, Moore himself notes their juxtaposing values. Side A and B are heavier, both in their subject matter and sonic palette, where as side C and D are more uninhibited; brighter and looser.

Clothing, artists own. Image: Vasili Papathanasopoulos.

The initial album - side A and B - was informed by three songs; High Hopes, Livin' Side and Solitary Tracks. All three songs were written within a week of each other, and launched Moore’s endeavour into creating his sixth studio album. “I noticed that when I wrote those three, there was such a thread lyrically. So then it becomes a conscious decision. You want each song to stand on its own and have its own uniqueness, but you want there to be a thread of guitar tones, drum sounds, you want there to be a thing. So there was definitely a conscious decision in that.” From there, the albums sonic realm was born - as was its lust for tension. The three tracks named by Moore are perfect examples of this. There is no rush within them. Each song takes its time to build in anticipation, allowing the listener to bask in the world Moore is creating. “There's no rush to get to the bombastic parts. Even like that first chorus, we don't let the whole cat outta the bag. We wait,” Moore says of the albums title track. “That's the world we live in. We think that we have to do that. We think that we have to let the whole thing out because we're gonna lose their attention and this and that. But I was very conscious with this record to be like, fuck that. I don't give a fuck if people don't have an attention span anymore. I'm gonna make this the way I wanna make it.” On Livin' Side, that relief of tension never arrives - instead the track is built to leave the station but never fully arrive at the destination. “In the studio, we're just like, 'you ride that' to that particular guitar player. Don't come off of that. Don't gimme anything fancy. You ride that till the end. Just like that,” Moore recalls. “Like it does not change, and things like that with records that I love in the past, nothing felt rushed… So there was definitely a conscious decision with that.” He held back from hitting the throttle as hard as they could on High Hopes, resisting his innate feeling to instead continue the thread of tension that would become central to the record. “It was like, 'wait a minute, let's just hold the whole reins back right now.' Because you keep tension on a song that way. So I think that there was a very deliberate decision to create tension with these songs and make you sit and absorb what's happening, instead of just throwing the kitchen sink at you within 60 seconds. And then where do you go from there?”

Beyond being the primary songwriter, across his releases Moore has taken on the role of co-producer. On Solitary Tracks, he teamed up with Jaren Johnston with additional production by Oscar Charles and Jay Joyce. I commend him on his ability to take control of his music, involving himself in each stage of the process to create his ultimate vision. We ponder if more artists should take this approach, and Moore concludes, "I think you should do that if you're capable of doing that.” Moore goes on to detail his meticulous approach to recording and producing. “I’m always producing my own vocal. I know exactly when I've cut the phrase too short, when my cadence isn't right, when I'm flat, when I'm sharp, I hear all the notes. I'm constantly hearing counter melodies and if the drums are on sixteenths right now, it might be cool to pull the bass back on whole notes. I'm always thinking about different ways. I don't want all the band doing the same parts. I want people playing counter melodies from each other. So I hear all that stuff. I hear a lot of vocal hooks. I don't know how to be any other way, basically. There's no way that I'm just gonna sit back and just allow somebody to just do it if I'm hearing all these things.”

Clothing, artists own. Image: Vasili Papathanasopoulos.

When speaking of the industry and existing within the structure of Nashville optics, Moore notes the impact the radio has had on him personally, and on his career. In the age of TikTok hits and social media driven content, some could argue having a radio hit has become something of a dying art. “I still love the radio. I still love what it represents… when I think about how I fell in love with music, it was listening to the radio. It was hearing Queen for the first time, and Nirvana when Smells Like Teen Spirit came on.” For those who subscribe to ‘new music Friday playlists’ and trending audio on TikTok’s, listening to the radio may seem like an archaic avenue to source new music. However, there was once a time where the radio soundtracked lives. Be that embarking on a road trip and switching stations as you entered new territories, casually tuning in on your drive to work, or nervously looking for a station to play whilst driving to a first date; you could always find something to lean in to. “There's just something neat about driving down a highway and your song popping up, or a song that you've never heard that lights you on fire. It's different than searching through streaming. As to somebody saying out loud, 'here's so and so, this is a brand new track and you're gonna love it,' and then you do love it. There's just something magical about that.” Whilst creating a radio hit is not at the forefront of Moore’s mind whilst penning a composition, the special feeling that arises when hearing your own song on the radio is not one that escapes him. He tells me allowing those thoughts into the process steers him from his gut instinct and clouds his direction. However, he does note that the charm of the radio will never wear off. “I never wanted to come across as I don't give a shit about radio, because I think that most people are lying when they say that. Even Tom Petty and Merle Haggard always said, I'm dreaming of one last hit, you know? There's just something magical about having a hit record on the radio.” Perhaps one day, the radio will rise from the ashes into its own renaissance in the way vinyl records have reemerged as the most popular physical media format for music.

Beyond his inimitable tones and global hits, Moore has carved out his own lane within the realm of live music. Having toured extensively for the entirety of his career, it is through live music that his fanbase continues to have monumental growth and he is able to make that in-person connection with those who feel an attachment to his music. “It's everything for us,” he says of performing to his fans. “I haven't been commercially played for the last six, seven years on the radio, but the fan base has double, tripled in size. It's predicated off of that live show. We put so much energy into rehearsing and working up songs and trying to make the show fresh from night to night. That what has sustained us through all these years. And that's what's made us continue to grow.” I ask him how he intends to bring Solitary Tracks to the stage for his upcoming run of tour dates. Whilst he had yet commenced rehearsals for his forthcoming shows when we met over zoom, he shared with me that due to the musicianship present within himself and his band, his live show is an ever-evolving affair. “A lot of times, I don't know until two weeks into the tour. If I see what's happening out there and I'm like, 'this song's not translating like I want it to.' Maybe it's where it's at in the set, maybe it's the arrangement.” Moore and his band play live, they do not rely on backing tracks or any pre-recorded content when they hit the stage. That allows them the flexibility to change the set, take fan requests and allow the show to be dictated by feeling, as oppose to implementing a strict regime. “We have a tentative set going into a tour, but we're not strapped to a computer to where our set can't change from the soundcheck when we start rehearsing… So because we're truly live, we have the ability to let it organically unfold the way it should.” This allows for the opportunity to create different arrangements of songs as the tour runs its course, and introduce songs that have yet to be played. I tell him, by taking this avenue that fans are kept on their toes and left anticipating how each show differs from the last. “That's why we have an audience that follows us from show to show, because you don't know what you're gonna get from night to night,” he responds. No stranger to our shores, Moore tells me he intends to return to Australia next year, and hopes to spend the summer here. "I wanna get a van and kind of do the whole country.”

Earlier in our time together when speaking of the albums format Moore teased he was already working on his next record. I questioned weather his recent time spent surfing and listening to seventies rock-and-roll has had an influence on his artistry. “Maybe a little bit,” he replies. “This next thing, and I know that they're gonna be like, 'why in the world are you talking about something else?' I don't care though. There is a style of music that lends itself to my voice. There's a sonic style that I have always wanted to do, and I've known that it's in there and it's been kind of like a searching and an uncovering. I am doing something right now, that I've been seeking for a very, very long time. It has me pretty fired up.” Perhaps that driving force of always looking forward and feeding his creativity is what keeps Kip Moore a staple in the country music scene.