Interview: Brennan Villines shines bright like a diamond

“Your daddy loves you, just give it some time” is as piercing a lyric as they come. Brennan Villines scrawls these lyrics in his brand new song “Ahead of Your Time” and digs his teeth into what it means to be queer in America. Built on piano, with flecks of guitar, the sweeping ballad reads as a love letter to his younger self—as well as all those scared little queer kids living in deep rural towns. “Baby, keep it rockin’, keep on shinin’ so bright / You’re just ahead of your time,” he sings in the shiny chorus.

Originally from West Kentucky, Villines has truly lived the song. He grew up in a stereotypically conservative Southern town. He hid away from the world, turning to music as a safe haven, just to get through his existence. When he was outed his junior year of high school, his family was considerably “upset, confused, and really worried about how I would be treated moving forward in life,” he reflects to B-Sides & Badlands. His worth became weighted against his identity, yet he forged ahead anyway. The world couldn’t and wouldn’t stop him from living his most authentic self.

“They had no frame of reference other than religious beliefs and the level of cultural acceptance at the time, which in our area was minimal, and they truly believed I could be changed,” he continues. Villines and his family even met with psychologists and psychiatrists, and they all said the same thing: he is who he is. “I remember screaming at my mom in the car on the way home from an appointment and threatening to get out of the car on the highway.”

In the coming years, Villines lost contact with his father, outside of major holidays. “And that really sucked,” he says. But now, years later, he finds himself enjoying a healthy relationship with his parents. They did come around—last year, he brought home a boyfriend for Thanksgiving—and that means everything. People can change.

That’s where “Ahead of Your Time” comes into the picture. Blessed by “the universe,” he says, the song’s piano progression poured from his fingertips. “I knew I wanted the lyrics to be quick and descriptive,” he notes. Lyrics like “bleach blonde, winter time, strung out Saturday nights, Sunday singing in the choir” paired nicely with just enough punch to hook into the signature groove. A co-write with Benny Reiner and Liz Huett, the bouncy track came together in three hours. Villines brought in part of the verse and the piano progression, and his collaborators fleshed out lyrics and musical pieces from there. Soon enough, they had a moving piece of music.

“Liz and I have only recently met, but she’s just a vibe and one of those people that you feel like you’ve known all your life,” he says. “Benny and I have been friends for over 15 years, and he has been pivotal in my life and music.”

In the accompanying visual, co-directed by Zach Wright and Zack Bass, Villines goes bold. An American flag is seen flown upside down, in a decision that is nothing short of a form of protest. “This country is supposed to be founded on freedom, yet those in power have taken the reins over generations and diminished that freedom for some,” he says. “I think the message is actually extremely patriotic. Our country was built on protest. And if we don’t continue to challenge the status quo or get complacent when something isn’t right, we will lose our freedom.”

“At the end of the day, we all just want to be loved. I think the upside-down flag is a reminder that we are in one of the greatest and most complex social experiments that has ever existed,” he adds, “and we must listen to one another and learn to coexist. When we open our hearts and actually listen to one another, we learn that we’re not that different.”

“Ahead of Your Time” is a special release. Not only is it wholly personal to Villines’ story, but it’s an incredibly important song that speaks to this moment in time. It captures the volatility of American culture and how queerness is so often buried to make others comfortable. But now is no time for hiding. Now is a time for a revolution. And you best believe Villines is on the front lines.

Below, the singer-songwriter digs into his upbringing, religion, and defining records.

What was life like growing up knowing you were queer in a rural southern town?

I started to realize I was different around the third grade, but I couldn’t quite figure out in what way. By the fifth or sixth grade, it was apparent to me, and I began to suppress any femininity, which was difficult for a kid like me. [laughs] I’m from the Bible Belt, raised in church on Sundays, youth group on Wednesdays, and Jesus summer camps. I had girlfriends. I tried to prove to myself that I was just like the other guys by pursuing girls, but really, I just wanted to be their best friend. The South is a wonderful place for many reasons. Hospitality, love, and genuine respect are strong there. That being said, most people who live in my area, or many small towns for that matter, don’t ever get a chance to step outside for much time and really see how the rest of the world lives. I think the internet has changed that level of access for a lot of folks, but I grew up in the late 90s, early 2000s, so social media and access to the world didn’t start to take over until I hit college.

Would you say you were and are a religious person?

I tried to be when I was younger. I prayed, got saved twice, and regularly attended church, thinking I was doing it all the right way. I was even the pianist for my church at a young age. I remember praying so hard for God to change me and not make me gay. I also remember never feeling that fuzzy feeling in my chest we were all supposed to feel when you ask Jesus to be your savior. What I’ve come to learn in my life is that God is love. That’s it. That fuzzy feeling when you do something nice for yourself or someone else and you truly put your heart out there, that’s God. But no, I am not a religious person. I believe religion is a great attempt at forming societies and giving people hope, but really, nobody knows what the fuck or why anything is anything.

What led you to come out in high school? Why did it feel like the right time?

I was outed by my best friend at the time, so I didn’t really have a choice. But it wasn’t that painful because I stuck out like a sore thumb. Also, all of my friends were like, “Yeah, Brennan, we know.” Before all of that happened, though, I came out to my pastor first, which then led to me telling my parents. I come from a Baptist church upbringing, which historically is not an accepting place for LGBT folks. I felt as though my pastor told me what he thought he should be telling me based on the beliefs of the church, but I didn’t think that he really believed it and felt as though it was actually kind of painful for him to have to tell me these things. He was very young when I told him, younger than I am now, actually. We’ve kept in touch over the years, and I’ve even attended my home church a few times over the years.

When did music become your safe haven?

I studied classical piano from a young age. I started to really excel in middle school after meeting the late Dr. Sandra Botkin, who was my teacher for about 4-5 years before heading to college. Sandra was involved in a terrible accident and was hit by a car while walking down the street some years before I met her, which left her with round-the-clock in-home care, but she still managed to teach students weekly. She was a renowned pianist and professor. We developed an extremely close bond, as I would often help her to the piano and back into her bedroom to rest after our lesson. She instilled a great deal of hope for my future, constantly reminding me of how bright I was and that I was going to succeed in things I put my mind to. There was a bit of wisdom and confidence I got from her that I wasn’t able to secure from anyone else in my life at that time. Around the time I came out, I was already working so diligently to get out of my town, applying for scholarships, and auditioning for schools. The piano was my ticket out, and I practiced harder than I ever would in my life then.

What records define your childhood?

Harry Connick Jr’s early solo jazz piano records. I used to play them and then bang on my piano to try to play stride. Earth, Wind, and Fire was quite a discovery for me at a young age. I’m a jazz lover thanks to my grandmother playing The Ratpack in her car when she would babysit me.

I was a huge Jewel fan. ‘Pieces of Me’ album. Alanis Morrisette, Sheryl Crow, Tracy Chapman. I listened to a lot of female artists. The line in my song “disco dancing in the garage” is a nod to me choreographing routines, pretending to be a figure skater to the likes of Whitney, Celine, and Mariah. Besides the top 40 hits of the day, I was very interested in music that was lush and full. Probably why I gravitated towards jazz records. Loved big band, with tons of extensions and full orchestral arrangements. The young pianist in me craved a complex, full sound.

How do you keep your sanity given the state of this country right now?

I’m a nerd for politics, so it’s pretty maddening. I listen to and read several independent commentators on the daily, and my nighttime sleep regimen is putting a timer on my NPR app. Definitely not the healthiest habit. Coming from the South, I’m never surprised. I think the most unfortunate thing has been to witness a large swath of this country get brainwashed and turn into a cult society supporting Trump. It’s absolutely insane that people cannot understand that he’s one of the biggest grifters in the universe. The Republican Party only ever runs on “anti-woke” social issues instead of actually caring about implementing policy and caring for our planet and its inhabitants. It’s scary to see what the Trump era has inspired, but also in a way, I guess it’s good to get all of this cancer out in the open for discussion and debate in hopes we can maybe move past it. There has been a new regime of politicians that have risen who are more bold and bigoted than ever, and I think it’s so sad and hypocritical since most of them claim to be “Christian.”

Back when I was growing up, it was gay men that were ruining society with “sexual deviancy and pedophilia.” Now we’ve slightly moved on from that focus and onto anti-trans. People fear what they don’t understand, and coming from the South, I understand that fear.

What other things would you tell your young self?

The chorus of the song “baby keep it rockin’ and soon you’ll arrive, you’re just ahead of your time” is a callback to my thoughts as a young kid. I remember thinking, with a clouded, stressed-out, religious brain, that “this can’t be it for me, there has to be more to this.” Boy, was I right. I would tell my younger self to “always be you” no matter what. You don’t have to be the coolest or smartest person in the room. You matter, no matter what. I got a tattoo on my wrist when I was 18 that says “Original,” which was supposed to serve as a reminder to always be myself. I know, I know… so lame. [laughs] But, as much as I sort of regret getting that word tattooed on my body, I get kind of emotional going back to that time in my life when Brennan was just trying to figure Brennan out. And while I rarely even notice the stupid tattoo anymore, it’s a profound reminder of the fortitude and resilience that got me through the tough period in any queer person’s life when you feel like you have no one and coming out is the last thing you want to do.

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