Diamond-certified songwriter Chase Rice debuts his highly anticipated independent album, Go Down Singin’, a reflective 11-song collection that captures the raw, unvarnished truth of his personal journey. Today’s release marks a continuation of Rice’s creative evolution that began with last year’s critically acclaimed I Hate Cowboys & All Dogs Go To Hell, an album celebrated by Billboard as “one of 2023’s most unexpected artistic pivots” and one of the best of the year across all genres. Listen to Go Down Singin’ HERE.

“It’s my first release in over 10 years as a fully independent artist,” notes Rice. “All we thought about when making this music was ‘how do we put the very best songs that I’ve got on one album?’ No thoughts of what’s popular right now, or what will work blow up or go viral, simply ‘who am I and what am I best at?’ It’s got songs about the music industry and what it can do to your soul; it’s got love lost songs; it’s got a song about my dad once again; it’s even got a murder song that might be my favorite song on the album. I hope you guys love this as much as I loved making it.”

Mirroring the cover art of the critically acclaimed I Hate Cowboys album, which features an image of his late father holding two Coors Banquets during the late ’80s in Wyoming, Rice recreated that photo himself for Go Down Singin’ as he continues to honor the man who not only served as his childhood hero, but who also still shapes his music and the person he is today. That tribute is especially poignant with the release of the forthcoming official music video for album track “You In ’85,” which features home footage of Rice and his late father.

“I’ve always written songs like these but was never inspired enough to put them out,” he shared with the Tennessean. “Now I’m at a place where records I wasn’t inspired to let see the light of day define my career. Come hell or high water, this is the kind of music that I now make. For the first time in my career, people are buying into me more than drinking beers and enjoying the vibes I’m singing about.”

“Maturity and clarity are the reality on Chase Rice’s new album, Go Down Singin’,” declares Cowboys & Indians of the honest and vulnerable project, continuing, “Even though Rice launched his singer-songwriter career as a bro-country prodigy in 2011 when he penned ‘Cruise’ with Florida Georgia Line, that isn’t who Rice is. It’s who he was. Nowadays, Chase Rice is the seasoned artist behind what is sure to be one of 2024’s most well-received country albums of the year.”

“Stripping back to raw, acoustic elements, the album presents an authentic and deeply personal exploration of Rice’s life, career, and the emotional experiences that come with it,” adds Entertainment Focus. “Blending folk, country, and rock influences, Rice crafts songs that are both musically diverse and lyrically profound… From soulful acoustic ballads to anthemic rockers, each track tells a story, offering listeners a raw and heartfelt glimpse into Rice’s world. With its blend of introspection, nostalgia, and storytelling, this album solidifies Chase Rice’s growing reputation as a nuanced and mature voice in country music.”

As made evident by that introspective approach taken with the new music, Rice recognizes that life has to happen before you can really understand it. Playing football, getting hurt; NASCAR pit crews, moving on. Being swept up in a dream, hit singles, massive tours, stalling momentum. Growing up a good kid, but never quite becoming a man – and then suddenly the man you look up to the most is gone. 

Marveling at being a work-in-progress, he considers the 11-song cycle an arrival on the brink of “being the man my father always believed I could be.” He also knows that in the end, the things that matter about what you love have little to do with fame or money. Like every great athlete, it’s about the heart: how hard it beats, how deep it reaches into whatever it is. Now, after what seems like so many chances, the Florida-born, North Carolina-raised dreamer is making good on what his father told him so many years ago, “Boy, anyone can play guitar, but no one is gonna really listen to you until you start singing.”

And writing. Though he co-wrote “Cruise,” arguably one of country’s biggest songs this century, Rice realized he’d only been skimming the surface. With Go Down Singin’ Rice emerges as a spirit settling into a more philosophical place yet still wildly committed to living wide open in pursuit of his dream and being the best man possible. Whether measuring the pitfalls and triumphs on the lean fiddle’n’harmony assessment of “Oh Tennessee,” the cascading acoustic guitar passage of simple wisdom from father to son in “Numbers,” or the smoky looking back at first loves in “Little Red Race Car,” there’s a knowing appreciation for how he got here.

In a voice sturdy as a retaining wall, Rice confesses, “I’m 39 now, and that’s part of it. I’ve journaled since I was 15 years old, but there’s something about being able to tell other people. I’m a deep person, but I don’t know to show it in real life, so I’m trying to do it in my music.

“For me, Go Down Singin’ is everything about where I am and what I want. I’m starting to see myself as who I want to be, not who I thought I should be. That’s a good start. And I think a lot of men struggle with this stuff, too.”

Getting honest, digging down, Rice shifted his approach. Working with Oscar Charles (Boy Named Banjo, Madeline Edwards, Elvie Shane), the pair worked to create a sound that was as honest, as real instrument grounded as the songs that were emerging. Written largely on guitars and piano, Go Down Singin’ shows a man reckoning with growing up.

“For one record, I thought I was Ed Sheeran. For one, I thought I was Florida Georgia Line,” he offers. “I was 22. I got into the party scene, I got lost. I didn’t know. I was very influenced by Eric Church, and wanted to be like him, though mostly, I was just so confused. You fall into things, being in the studio, and you look back…”

Now when Rice looks back, it’s for the sake of the songs. Reckoning with where he is, there’s a reflective sensibility that tempers the life rising and falling “That Word Don’t Work No More,” the honesty of “If Drinkin’ Helped,” and especially, “You In ’85,” which sifts through memories of his father.

“That started as such a sad vocal. Oscar came in, started talking to me about what the song meant,” he begins. “I realized: this is a celebration and an opportunity. If you could sit down as a man now, have that one conversation with your father and say all the things… It shifted everything about who I am, and reminded me of all the small things that matter.” He acknowledges, “I’m becoming the man he knew that I could be. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting there, getting to be someone my family can be proud of.”

As a writing process, “That Word Don’t Work No More,” “If Drinkin’ Helped,” “You In ’85” and “Oh Tennessee” mark a creative – if seemingly unlikely – collaboration with three-time Grammy winner Lori McKenna, who is also featured on “That Word.” Known for vulnerable but clear-eyed emotion, the Americana force came to see Rice play in Boston and recognized the wounding and the promise inside him.

“I wanted to bring her ‘Oh Tennessee,’ because it was the story of moving to Nashville, getting anything you wanted and losing it all,” he recalls. “I knew she would understand, and from there, well, we had so much to say.”

Getting beneath the surface took hold. Even on fun songs like “Little Red Race Car,” the desire of burning through the mundane in “Fireside,” or the spoken voice-noted homage to fellowship, black dogs and tradition “Arkansas,” there’s a sense of detail and purpose that gets beyond slinging hooks. “You realize, even in a song like ‘Arkansas,’ you’re talking more about life than killing ducks; you’re talking about dogs and what’s going on. It’s so much more.”

And it’s also country music traditions. Like “Haw River,” a classic murder ballad based on avenging the children a bad preacher took advantage of. “We were in Wilmington, North Carolina, and there were four girls by the bus. One said, ‘I’m Kayla from Haw River,’ and my ears just went up. Blake said, ‘We should make that a murder ballad…,’ and we were off. Between the series ‘1923,’ about those priests beating up and raping Native American girls, and our imaginations, it got pretty dark.”

It also gets pretty light. “Hey God It’s Me Again,” a stately shuffle, takes stock of where he is, where he’s going and what really matters. Beyond taking stock, it’s as much a song of gratitude as it is begging for help, an ask for clarity and a place to go to feel connected.

“There’s a little bit of ‘Here I am again…’ for sure,” allows the man who’s had three No. 1s, his own sold-out tours and key stadium support slots with Garth Brooks and Kenny Chesney. “But I’m trying… I was a lost kid who lost his Dad. I’m not alone. I know lots of people struggle, too. The last record dealt with that loss, and this one is about taking all that and becoming who you’re meant to be. I wrote ‘Hey God’ with Randy Montana and Cory Crowder, and I remember saying, ‘I don’t want to write with a track, I just want to write with guitars today. I knew: this needed to be absolutely real.”