In his songs and in conversation, Nashville singer-songwriter Willy Cobb often strays back to

one central image: a dirt road. It was on a dirt road, in his family’s truck, that the Georgia-reared

musician remembers becoming inspired to make his own music. His dad would throw on Hank

Williams, while his mom favored Nirvana. By his late teens he was writing songs that drew as

much from grunge as the country and folk music that pervaded his hometown. Now a rising

talent in Nashville, the 23-year-old singer and guitarist still channels his upbringing in his lyrics,

which pay homage to small-town misbehavior and malaise. However, his music is also

dominated by an uncompromising rock energy that makes it feel too loud and proud for the

Grand Ole Opry. Cobb’s debut EP due via War Buddha Records/Warner Records—serves as a

dynamic crash course in his blend of down-home pride and punk attitude.

The EP was produced and co-written with country singer Brent Cobb and The Cadillac Three

leader Jaren Johnston, both seasoned musicians who understand his vision for a style of—as

Cobb specifies—“alternative rock” that still evokes his roots. His songwriting touches on country

music subject matter, but his transmissions emerge through distorted vocal effects, backed by

phased-out guitars and cavernous drums reminiscent of John Bonham and Tame Impala—in

other words, channeling everything that appealed to him about rock as a kid. “I loved the

screaming, definitely,” he remembers. “I wanted whiny vocals and big guitars.”

Opener and lead single “Cigarette Smell” is a potent and endlessly replayable introduction to

Cobb’s unpretentious style, evincing his infectious combination of irreverence and specificity. He

sticks to crisp, suitably absurd imagery all the way through the power chorus: “I bet you hate the

way cigarettes smell/I bet you vape all day cause it’s better for ya health.” Channeling White

Stripes in their lo-fi era, the track exemplifies the disarming, immediately personable quality that

has made Cobb a live phenomenon in Nashville.

Elsewhere on the EP, Cobb waxes more serious and introspective, while continuing to employ

massive hooks, dark punchlines, and distinctly Southern imagery. “Daddy’s on Drugs” comes

across like a country-fried take on Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind?” The track is an unflinching study

of drug addiction being passed through families, inspired by a childhood friend of Cobb’s who

failed to break the cycle. Cobb’s favorite is “Burning,” reinforced by shoegaze guitars that sound

heavy and wistful at the same time. The track finds him deeper in his feelings than anywhere

else on the project: “Whiskey makes me crazy/Crazier than you/Now I sit here drinking/In this

picket-fence padded room.”

Somehow though, the EP’s less overtly personal moments feel even more central to

understanding Willy Cobb as a musician and person. With a winding verse melody that

resembles early Beck, “Country Punkin” is a tribute to a particular kind of small-town romance

that also functions as Cobb’s anthem to individualism. “It’s about what it’s like growing up, and

having that girl, and driving on dirt roads,” he says. “Everyone in town is talking, but you’re just

kind of doing your own thing.”

Not caring what people think is a crucial aspect of Cobb’s view of himself and his music. While

he credits other like-minded Southern artists who flout easy genre labels, Cobb considers

himself to be on a unique mission to connect with fans who might feel like outsiders in their

communities. If this first EP is any indication, he has already found a sound that speaks directly

to them.

“There’s a whole minority of kids in the South that feel like me—that were weird and alternative

in high school,” Cobb explains. “They feel trapped in the South with these country stereotypes.

But I want those people to feel like, ‘It’s not just you, man.’ I want them to see that you don’t

have to be country to be from Georgia.”