When the world shut down, The Head and the Heart were supposed to be on their victory lap. “We were about to go out with Margo Price, bigger rooms, just celebrating Living Mirage,” drummer Tyler Williams tells me from his Nashville home. “Then boom—cancelled. Whole year gone.”
The band wasn’t alone, of course. The entire touring economy imploded overnight. “Seventy-five percent of our income comes from the road,” he says. “So when that’s gone, it’s not like, ‘Oh, we’ll just pivot to merch.’ There’s no show, no crew, no drivers, no bus. Ten people out of work, instantly.”
Williams isn’t the kind of guy to cry poor, but he’s realistic. “It’s one thing for a big band to hit pause,” he says. “But think about the developing bands—people who just put out their debut. If 90 percent of venues close, where do they even play?”
He’s talking about NEVA—the National Independent Venue Association—whose “Save Our Stages” campaign was born out of panic and caffeine in the early days of COVID-19. “It’s wild to think about,” he says. “If you lose those small clubs, you lose the whole ecosystem. That’s how bands grow.”
And that, Williams says, is why this pandemic hit harder than anyone outside the industry realized. “We’re not just talking about bands. We’re talking about the crews, the venue staff, the people selling posters and pouring drinks. We carry that on our backs too. Those are our people.”
Without touring, some musicians tried livestreams to keep things going. “It’s weirdly intimate,” Williams says. “You’re playing for people in their living rooms. Maybe they’re having dinner and a drink while you’re performing. I think there’s a future in that. Not to replace touring, but to balance it.” He pauses. “Honestly, a healthier work-life balance wouldn’t be the worst thing. The road can destroy you.”
He’s not exaggerating. The Head and the Heart have dealt with the kind of internal implosion that comes with years of touring—exhaustion, addiction, burnout. “When one of your friends is suffering, it affects everyone,” he says quietly. “We had to fight to reconnect, to stay a band. Mental health is everything out there. You lose that, you lose the whole thing.”
And now, while the venues fight for survival, the band is writing—slowly, deliberately, with a lot more talking than ever before. “We’ve been having deeper conversations than we ever have,” Williams says. “About mental health, about what’s happening in the country, about race. You can’t ignore any of it. It’s shaping the new songs, for sure.”
The band’s not shying away from politics either. “We’ve always believed in justice and love and freedom,” he says. “We played rallies for Obama back in 2012. That was one of the highlights of my life.” He laughs, then gets serious again. “This election feels even bigger. We can’t gamble with this one. Not on climate, not on women’s rights, not on human rights. Not again.”
When I ask him how a white indie-folk band approaches something like Black Lives Matter, Williams doesn’t dodge. “You listen first,” he says. “You educate yourself. You don’t try to lead the conversation—you just join it. Charity [Rose Thielen, the band’s co-lead vocalist] has been involved with the Seattle chapter. We’re reading, donating, hiring Black artists. It’s embarrassing it took us this long to be intentional about that.”
As part of that effort, The Head and the Heart are releasing a Living Mirage deluxe edition with four unreleased songs and a limited-edition collaboration with Seattle artist Anthony White, with all proceeds going to Black Lives Matter Seattle. “It’s small, but it’s a start,” Williams says. “The point is to actually do something.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out the video below.
