Jason Isbell is older and sober, his new album 'Weathervanes' is a reflection of growth

What would it sound like if Neil Young fronted Wings? Jason Isbell wanted to find out.

The six-string storyteller adopted this rock 'n' roll cosplay on "Miles," a seven-minute opus that closes his new studio album, "Weathervanes." On the song, Isbell and his faithful band the 400 Unit sketch a contended father-daughter tale, weaving from heartland rock riffs to arena-sized harmonies before closing with a kaleidoscopic singalong.

And, yes — it's a blast.

The song shows how far Isbell's traveled in the decade since he found sobriety and penned "Southeastern," a north star album for singer-songwriters in search of timeless words to tackle age-old topics. Ten years ago, the Grammy-winning artist found himself navigating a world that — in his recovery — felt raw and new.

Now, as a 44-year-old who feels content in his journey, Isbell can still mine life's deep-buried emotions with a few chords and well-chosen rhymes. Just don't be surprised if he tosses in an occasional time signature change.

"In your life and in your work, if you have the same challenges you have 10 years ago, you might not be progressing as you should," Isbell told The Tennessean. "Ten years ago, my challenge was to keep myself sober and keep working and keep loving my job."

He continued, "I'm comfortable in the world, I'm comfortable in my recovery. I thought it may be nice to go from one time signature to another and back and stack a bunch of harmonies, like Queen."

Isbell isn't all about cutting rock epics for "Weathervanes," of course. Like cracking the spine on a new book in a beloved series, his eighth solo effort — and fifth since finding sobriety — captures a storytelling magic akin to starting a new adventure with familiar friends. And, like close-knit friends, the songs on "Weathervanes" don't tip-toe around hard-to-swallow truths or long-buried vulnerabilities.

The self-produced "Weathervanes" debuts Friday via Isbell's Southeastern Records.

"The weather vane itself is a really interesting concept to me," Isbell said. "It's a piece of very basic technology that people in country places came up with try and predict the weather. It does a pretty decent job of that, for what they needed. Just like an almanac. I think that's sometimes what I'm trying to do.

"There's so many fears and anxieties on this record," he continued. "Really, when you take the pathology out of fear, it becomes an attempt at predicting what's coming."

'I could do it without ruining it'

"Weathervanes" marked Isbell's first time self-producing a 400 Unit album since getting sober. For the last decade, he's teamed with go-to Nashville album-maker Dave Cobb; the two notched a four-album run together, from "Southeastern" to 2020 release "Reunions."

He returned to the producers' chair in-part because "I felt like I could do it without ruining it," Isbell said.

"This time around, I had gotten over the idea of having anything to prove as a producer," Isbell said. "If you go in thinking, 'I need to show people I know how to work these machines.' Or, 'I need to show people that my tastes are current' ... then you're probably going to mess up as a producer. I thought I had gotten to the point in my career where I didn't have anything to prove - and it seemed like a lot of fun."

Knowing Isbell described his latest round of studio sessions as fun may be a relief to some dedicated listeners. For "Reunions," the singer gave viewers a front-row seat to strained studio sessions in new HBO documentary, "Running With Our Eyes Closed." Directed by Sam Jones and released in April, the 98-minute film focused on tense, unvarnished moments in the studio and at home as Isbell and artist-wife Amanda Shires navigated marriage, parenthood and creative co-working.

For "Weathervanes," Isbell entered in the studio "in a better place," he said. He and the band — alongside recurring guests Shires and longtime Willie Nelson harmonica sideman Mickey Raphael, among others — entered Nashville's Blackbird Studio to cut the album in about two weeks.

Albums like the Police's "Outlandos d'Amour" and the Beatles expansive "Get Back" documentary were top of mind when Isbell entered the studio, he said. Taking a cue from "Get Back," the band tuned by ear on moments in "Weathervanes" — like some guitars on "Miles" and album advance track "Middle of the Morning." The Police sonic influence bleeds into "Save The World," a song Isbell described as "slick-sounding — very produced, for lack of a better term, but also that sound right up in your ear."

He and the 400 Unit operated similarly to past sessions, Isbell said. He typically brings the band a new song at the top of a session; after digesting the tune, they work on arrangements and individual parts. For longtime 400 Unit keyboardist Derry DeBorja, Isbell's approach to the studio can be refreshing.

"The songs continue to grow when you're playing them live," DeBorja said. "Even two, three, four years down the line, you might still be adding to that song. You might be changing the way you play it. They're like living things."

And between Isbell and 400 Unit player Sadler Vaden, the album leans into a healthy servings of loud and rowdy guitar playing — because why not?

"This time around, I just wanted to play to the guitar more," Isbell said. "If people don't like it, I don't give a s*** anymore. They're not going to take the guitars away from me so I'm just gonna do it. Sadler and I both played a lot more on this record, which, to me, served the purpose of it sounding and feeling more like a live show than any of the records have in the past."

'Weathervanes'

Still, no matter how loud he may turn up the guitar, one thing remains constant when pressing "play" on a new Isbell album: The storytelling. 

From "Decoration Day" during his time in Southern rock staple Drive-By Truckers to the real-life love on "Cover Me Up," backroad Americana tale in "Speed Trap Town," heartbreaking imagery on "Dreamsicle" or Southern shortcomings on new song "Cast Iron Skillet," he remains a gold-standard for capturing the human experience in three-and-a-half minutes.

Regardless if it was released days ago or decades ago, his songs connect — and stick — with listeners who may hear a bit of their world in his words.

"Any time I go to write a song, I try to document a change or a moment in time or the death of something, the birth of something, fear or jubilation," Isbell said. "I never try to write for a lifestyle or a target audience. I try to be very specific and unpack my feelings in a way that might connect with somebody else."

But Isbell's approach doesn't always work, he said. It's harder for him to write a song now, versus when he was a 21-year-old, and he spends more time working each song on an album until he's confident in the start-to-finish result.

"You just stay with it, and don't accept the things you used to accept," Isbell said. "And you're not supposed to. You're supposed to grow. And sometimes the only way to grow is to edit harder, ya know? And spend more time with the work."

Listeners hear the result on a 13-song album that chronicles working-class addiction ("King of Oklahoma," which Isbell wrote while shooting for his forthcoming acting debut in Martin Scorsese's "Killers of the Flower Moon"), challenges Southern nostalgia on the aforementioned "Cast Iron Skillet," captures head-turning courtship ("Strawberry Woman") and delivers driving guitar anthems ("When We Were Close," "This Ain't It").

For some, no song may hit as hard as "Save The World," which captures the haunting reality of school shootings in America; the song debuts in the months following a deadly shooting at the Covenant School in Nashville and continued calls for common-sense gun reform from many including Isbell.

In "Save The World," he sings, "Balloon popping at the grocery store, my heart jumping in my chest/ I look around to find the exit door, which way out of here’s the best/ The kids looking through the candy aisle, schools starting in a week/ A lady says you have a lovely child, and I’m too terrified to speak."

"I would much rather have to look harder for things to write about than have to worry about my child," Isbell said. "I would take that in a heartbeat every single time."

As for what songs come next? Keep watching the weather vane to find out.

"[Songwriting], it's a cathartic process," Isbell said. "But it's not an escapist process. Not the way I do it."