Megan Moroney hasn’t seen Barbie, and that’s no real surprise, given how busy her schedule has been for the past couple of years. One could also make a case that she doesn’t need to see it, given that in some ways she’s living its story.
Let’s back it up. Moroney grew up in Douglasville, where her dad and brother played in various bands. She started playing guitar at 16, when her dad suggested it might help her process her feelings after a breakup, and she posted covers of country songs she recorded with her family to Instagram—fairly normal high school stuff. She got into UGA, where she started off majoring in accounting because she’d enjoyed it in high school, and joined the local chapter of the Kappa Delta sorority.
In 2017, while she was still a freshman, KD hosted its annual all-you-can-eat Waffle House Dinner to benefit Prevent Child Abuse Athens. Jon Langston, a country singer from Loganville, provided musical entertainment, but the sorority needed an opener, and given that Moroney’s sisters knew she could play and sing, they metaphorically pushed her up on the stage. Chase Rice, another country singer, happened to be in the audience, and asked her if she’d open up for him the following month at the Georgia Theatre, figuring she could draw a crowd. His only condition was that she had to perform at least one original song, and she’d never written one before.
Moroney seemed nothing if not determined, so she met the challenge, wowed the crowd, and told her parents she wanted to drop out of college, move to Nashville and become a singer-songwriter. They vetoed that idea immediately, deferring her dream for a couple of years. She switched from accounting to UGA’s Music Business Program, pursuing an internship with musicians Kristian and Brandon Bush of Sugarland. She played some shows around Athens, too, including a benefit for Girls Rock Athens and the St. Patrick’s Day festival held downtown in 2019, but Athens has never really been a country town. Although she attended a lot of country shows at the Georgia Theatre, there were limited opportunities for what Moroney wanted to achieve. With her diploma checked off, Moroney moved to Nashville in the spring of 2020 chasing her vision.
She spent a lot of time writing early on and working as an influencer (her social media game is on point, and creative control of her record covers and videos is important to her). She also stayed in touch with Kristian Bush, who introduced her to her manager and some other collaborators and produced Lucky, her debut album.
If you’re some sort of Ken, or even a Sasha, you’re probably underestimating Moroney based on the fact that she’s blond and pretty. To be fair, she is. She’s got a real Barbie look going on, with ebullient waves of hair, sparkly clothing and a “who, me?” demeanor. She also didn’t answer my question about whether or not she thinks people underestimate her (a fair response given Nashville’s well-publicized issues with outspoken women in the industry). But she refers to herself as an “emo cowgirl,” and writing dancey songs for her tour was a challenge, given that she’s drawn to the ones about heartbreak. If there’s a song she wishes she’d written, it’s the Eagles’ “Desperado,” an appropriately mournful ballad.
The first time I heard Moroney’s “Tennessee Orange,” the lead single off Lucky, I almost pulled my car off the road. College football writer Spencer Hall wrote, in a Jimmy Buffett obituary of sorts, “If you’re from somewhere or grow up around it, and no one reflects that back to you or writes about it, then the first person to rep that place in earnest will get your love on a permanent basis.” This little love song about falling for someone your parents won’t approve of because he roots for a different college football team is exactly the kind of thing that can make one feel seen and earn one’s loyalty as a result. Moroney’s voice has some roughness to it, a certain top-coat of sorority scratch. The acoustic guitar glows, and the steel sighs. She pronounces “daddy” as “deddy” in a way that feels completely genuine. And then the joke that isn’t even really a joke drops, a minute-plus into the song. It’s clever, it’s funny, and it’s weirdly sincere. It also isn’t an exception among her songs.
Moroney is a lot more than a pretty face. She’s an impressively accomplished songwriter with a love for old Nashville and its penchant for twist endings and wordplay. She’s managed to write some up-tempo stuff that’s better suited to dancing, but she also rejects a suitor because he never listens to John Prine, and concludes her album with a love song that’s about how she doesn’t write love songs. Her story might be a dream come true, but her slyness and interesting edges haven’t been ironed out by the machine yet and hopefully they won’t be.
WHO: HARDY, Yung Gravy, Ian Munsick, Megan Moroney, The Castellows
WHEN: Friday, Oct. 6, 4 p.m. (doors)
WHERE: Athens Fairgrounds
HOW MUCH: $63.09–169.99
Like what you just read? Support Flagpole by making a donation today. Every dollar you give helps fund our ongoing mission to provide Athens with quality, independent journalism.
