Entertainment
Kelsea Ballerini can't stop telling the truth
The way Kelsea Ballerini sees it, people expected her to do two things on her high-wire act of a new album: “One, to go pop,” she says. “And two, to go soft.”
The pop move has been anticipated since this 31-year-old country singer and songwriter emerged about a decade ago in the wake of Taylor Swift, a foundational influence whose early embrace of Ballerini as an heir apparent left many waiting for an inevitable “1989”-style crossover moment of her own.
Says Ballerini with a smile: “They can keep waiting.”
As for the assumption that she’d go “all lovey-dovey,” as the singer puts it? “It’s because they see me happy,” she says — one result of her relationship with the actor Chase Stokes, whom she began dating after the public divorce she chronicled in brutal detail on last year’s Grammy-nominated “Rolling Up the Welcome Mat” EP.
“But going pop and getting soft — I very intentionally did not want to do either of those things.”
What she pulls off instead on “Patterns,” which came out Friday, is a pair of difficult tricks: She writes about personal growth with a degree of emotional acuity most songwriters reserve for heartbreak and she makes room for sonic and structural innovations within an unabashedly commercial country-music framework.
Take “First Rodeo,” a sleek midtempo track with twangy guitars and blipping synths in which Ballerini extends a metaphor about getting back on the horse further than you’d think possible without breaking it. Or take “Sorry Mom,” an almost uncomfortably forthright note to her mother about the let’s-call-it-scenic route Ballerini took to becoming “a woman that you’re proud of.” (“Showing up again on Sunday morning / You just made the eggs and turned your head,” she sings, which — oof.)
Then there’s “Wait!”: three minutes of psychological drama in the mind of someone “with a nasty habit leaving before I get left.”
“That’s the last song I wrote for the album,” Ballerini says on a recent morning in a sunny West Hollywood hotel suite. Wrapped in a cozy gray cardigan, she’s sitting cross-legged on a sofa, shoes off, with an overstuffed pillow in her lap. “I felt like it was a missing part of the story, where I was the bad guy, you know? It’s easy to show the unraveling of a relationship. But then you’re like, ‘Oh, wait — part of this was my fault.’”
Ballerini has been in Los Angeles for a few months shooting “The Voice,” the long-running TV singing competition on which she’ll serve as a coach when the show’s next season premieres in February. She used to hate L.A., she says, but given the time she knew she’d be spending here, she resolved to try to make the city feel more like home by renting a place in Los Feliz, which reminds her of her Green Hills neighborhood back in Nashville; she filled the house with the same candles she burns at home and she cooks dinner as many nights as she can. She brought her dog Dibs too, only to discover after getting here that the 9-year-old pup has cancer.
“I just dropped him off for chemo on the way here,” she says, scrolling through the many photos of Dibs on her phone to find one to show off. “It’s gutting, but he’s in good spirits. If I was out here, and this was happening in Nashville, I’d feel so displaced.”
In addition to “The Voice,” Ballerini recently shot a guest-star spot on “Doctor Odyssey,” the new cruise-ship medical drama from producer Ryan Murphy. For years, acting was a “hard no,” she says. “I was terrified of failing and embarrassing myself. But the last couple years, I’ve done a lot of things that I was really scared of, and everything turned out all right.” What links the women Ballerini admires most — “Shania, obviously, Reba, Reese Witherspoon” — is that they’re all “multifaceted,” she says. “They’re women known for doing several things, and that inspires me.”
Even so, “Patterns” showcases the deepening of Ballerini’s core talents as both a singer and a songwriter. In “Two Things,” she finds the ragged edge of her honeyed voice to put across the exasperation involved in a love-hate relationship; in “We Broke Up,” she realizes that closure is available only to those who are ready for it: “I could take a deep dive in the details / I could hide, I could cry till I throw up / Take a stroll, camera roll, old emails / But it’s as simple as, ‘We broke up.’”
After years of screwed-tight Nashville songcraft, Ballerini achieved a more conversational aspect on “Rolling Up the Welcome Mat” that carries through to the new album. (Among her touchstones was SZA’s wonderfully digressive “SOS.”) “I used to think the only great songwriters were the cleverest ones — the Shane McAnallys,” she says, referring to the prolific country hitmaker she describes as “a god” at turning a phrase just so. “But I let that go during ‘Welcome Mat’ — I didn’t even care if things rhymed — and that gave me so much more of a canvas to work with.” Now, she says, a song’s success is less about its hookiness or wordplay than about “whether you go, ‘Oh my God, I literally texted that to my friend yesterday.’”
Kelsea Ballerini will serve as a coach on the next season of “The Voice.”
(Jennifer McCord / For The Times)
In person, Ballerini is warm, chatty, slightly gossipy — a veteran star who has retained an essential down-to-earth quality but who also knows through experience how to create a sense of emotional intimacy with an interlocutor.
“Kelsea’s not a pop robot,” says Adam Levine of Maroon 5, the longtime “Voice” coach who’s working with Ballerini on the show’s upcoming season. “Talking to her, you feel like you’re girlfriends.”
Ballerini, who calls herself “a classic oversharer,” grew up in a religious family in Knoxville, Tenn., but moved to Nashville at 15 to pursue music; she signed a record deal a few years later and scored a No. 1 country-radio hit with her debut single, 2014’s earnest “Love Me Like You Mean It.” More chart-toppers followed — including “Dibs,” whose title provided her dog’s name, and “Peter Pan,” about the danger of falling for a charming man-child — as did a Grammy nomination for best new artist.
“I sounded so young,” she says now of her early work. “For the first five years of my career, I still had such a baby face.”
In 2017, when she was 24, Ballerini married Morgan Evans, an Australian country singer she’d met when the two co-hosted an awards show in Brisbane. Her career continued to grow after the wedding — she tried out new sounds with the Chainsmokers and Halsey and cut successful country duets with Shania Twain and Kenny Chesney — yet her relationship with Evans eventually withered.
On “Rolling Up the Welcome Mat,” which came out just a few months after the couple finalized their divorce in late 2022, Ballerini sings that they “had to get drunk to ever really talk”; in one song she recounts a breakfast by herself in Big Sur while her husband was on tour in Europe: “The pictures look pretty,” she sings, “at least they do on your Instagram.” (Evans offered his side of the story in his plaintive 2022 single “Over for You,” in which he sings, “It kills me to know you were drifting alone” and wonders, “Was it something I was missing, or is there someone else?”)
“I’m so f—ing proud of the songwriting on ‘Welcome Mat,’” Ballerini says of the EP, which came out amid a wave of divorce albums by female country stars, including Kacey Musgraves and Carly Pearce. “I feel like I proved to myself my credibility — not just to myself, but especially to myself.” Yet she also realizes that her candor — in her music as well as in a very dishy episode of the popular “Call Her Daddy” podcast — came “at the expense of a lot of things,” she says. Meaning? “I hurt some people.”
Ballerini describes herself as “a classic oversharer.”
(Jennifer McCord / For The Times)
With “Patterns,” Ballerini’s fifth studio LP, her ambition was to maintain “the level of honesty that I unlocked” last time while “editing myself a little bit in terms of what I share about my real life.” For help she assembled a team of experienced songwriters: Hillary Lindsey, Jessie Jo Dillon, Karen Fairchild (of Little Big Town) and Alysa Vanderheym, who produced “Welcome Mat” and went on to produce the new album.
“They’re all amazing writers, but they’re also my friends,” Ballerini says, “so it felt comfortable to go in and just throw paint at the wall and figure it out.” The crew held a retreat at a friend’s farm to start the creative process and came up with “Sorry Mom,” “Two Things” and “Baggage,” in which Ballerini admits, “I don’t abide by that 50-pound limit.”
The fact that the team was all women meant that “we could definitely say things we would never say in other writing rooms,” Vanderheym says. “There was wine involved, and there were some very late nights. We were just spilling our guts.” For Ballerini, the liberation was sufficient to drop an F-bomb in one tune — hardly a given in country music. “I remember she was like, ‘Am I gonna have a little E on my record?’” Vanderheym says, referring to the symbol used by streaming services to show that a song contains explicit lyrics. (Ballerini also credits a woman not present for the retreat: “I would not have put ‘f—’ on this record,” she says, “had Taylor Swift not put ‘f—’ on a record.”)
The singer and Vanderheym recorded much of “Patterns” in Vanderheym’s living room in part because the singer is no fan of a professional studio’s vocal booth. “It just feels like I’m walking into a cubicle with a Dell computer that I don’t know how to work,” she says with a laugh. “When I do vocals now, I’m crisscross applesauce on the floor with a mic in my hand.”
For the album’s lead single, “Cowboys Cry Too,” Ballerini enlisted Noah Kahan, the folk-rock singer-songwriter from Vermont, whom she met at the Grammys in February. “I totally fan-girled on him, and then he asked me about ‘Peter Pan,’” she recalls. “I was like, ‘How do you even know that song?’” In “Cowboys,” Ballerini addresses the effects of “toxic masculinity,” as she puts it, but she felt the song would be more powerful “if it’s me opening the door and then a man actually talking about it from his perspective. So I just shot my shot and texted it to Noah.” Kahan wrote a moving verse about a guy un-learning the stoicism he inherited from his dad.
Says Ballerini: “Noah is what the song talks about, which is a man who’s not afraid to be cracked wide open and gush out.”
According to Ballerini, “Cowboys Cry Too” is “one of the two most country-radio-friendly songs I’ve ever put out.” (The other one is “If You Go Down [I’m Goin’ Down Too],” a cut from 2022’s “Subject to Change” LP that Ballerini co-wrote with McAnally.) Yet four months after it was released, “Cowboys” is stuck down in the high 30s on Mediabase’s closely watched country chart.
The singer is philosophical about “Cowboys’” performance. “I’ve had seven No. 1s on country radio, and now I can’t get one anymore,” she says. “Things just change, right?” She adds that she may never win female vocalist of the year at the Country Music Assn. Awards — a prize she’s been nominated for seven times, including at next month’s CMAs ceremony. “That’s probably the truth,” she says.
“But I’m in this phase of my career where there’s abundance in different ways,” not least the TV gigs and the concert she has booked Tuesday night at New York’s Madison Square Garden, where she plans to perform “Patterns” from beginning to end. “I’ve had to rewire exactly what success looks like. I’m working really hard, and I’m showing up, and that matters to me,” she says. “Whatever this ends up looking like, I’m open to it.”
Movie Reviews
Movie review: ‘Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass’ not quite ‘Wet Hot’ fun
Comedy is a matter of taste and preference — it’s a deeply personal thing. Which makes it hard for a critic to give a blanket assessment of a specific kind of comedy, especially if it didn’t work for them, but clearly worked for others (the laughter or lack thereof is the indication). “It’s not funny,” the critic says, “well I had fun,” someone else can reply, and then we’re at an impasse.
Which is the dilemma one finds oneself in with “Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass,” a very strange and shaggy Hollywood satire of sorts from David Wain and The State crew, still riding the goodwill of “Wet Hot American Summer” after all these years. If only this were as funny.
“Gail Daughtry” lives in the same world as that iconic summer camp spoof, as well as Wain’s 2014 rom-com parody, “They Came Together,” in that he’s playing with genre convention and expectation, taking well-known norms to the goofiest extremes. But those films hewed more closely to their respective genres, while “Gail Daughtry” is totally scattered, combining crime and spy movie tropes with a fish-out-of-water comedy and a Hollywood send-up. It has far too many ideas for its own good, and yet no ideas that are good enough to sustain this bizarre curio of a comedy.
What’s ironic is that one of the problems driving this wacky plot forward is the characters have to come up with a movie idea to pitch to star Jon Hamm (playing himself of course), leading them to do some pretty inane and shockingly violent things. It’s almost as if Wain and co-writer and co-star Ken Marino had no idea for a movie, then baked their search for an idea into their script, and then turned it into a madcap adventure about a woman on a quest to have sex with Jon Hamm. What an ouroboros!
OK, about the sex quest. Gail Daughtry (Zoey Deutch) is a chipper hairdresser from Kansas born without the part of the brain that recognizes sarcasm or irony. She’s a cheerful, Pollyanna-ish naïf whose literal-mindedness is almost as extreme as Amelia Bedelia. Her childhood sweetheart and fiancé Tom (Michael Cassidy) is the same. She tells him about the concept of the “celebrity sex pass” as a joke, and he promptly boinks Jennifer Aniston at local book reading.
(Nitpicky aside: why didn’t they use the common nomenclature “hall pass”? Is it copyrighted? “Celebrity sex pass” is clunky and sounds like an off-brand version of the well-known slang.)
That infidelity crisis is how Gail ends up in Los Angeles determined to bang Hamm, collecting a motley crew of similarly clueless helpers along the way. There’s her best friend Otto (Miles Guttierez-Riley), her salon bestie; Caleb (Ben Wang), an overly ambitious intern at Creative Artists Agency; Vince (Marino), a screenwriter turned paparazzo with a heart of gold; and John Slattery, as John Slattery, down on his luck. An accidental briefcase swap has a pair of thugs on their tail, in a forgettable and underdeveloped B-plot.
With a parade of celebrity cameos and collaborators in bit parts, “Gail Daughtry” at times feels like an excuse for Wain and co. to make something at home with all of their friends. Fair enough, it’s great to see all these people employed, but what about what we’re watching? Behold, the Los Angeles of the middle-aged working comedian: the CAA lobby, the Chateau Marmont, Griffith Park, etc. And the plot is as half-baked as the pitch they present to Hamm.
What’s actually interesting about this comedy is the distinct streak of despair and even resentment that reveals itself at the climax, a feeling of helplessness and uselessness. Everyone’s been striving to make it in this crazy town: the intern, the actor, the paparazzo. But not even Jon Hamm can help them get a movie made; even he feels inherently powerless. There’s an unexplored anxiety vibrating there that feels the most thematically fruitful, about what it means, some 25 years after bursting onto the scene with a generation-defining comedy, about maintaining the work, the drive, a sense of purpose, after years of strikes, and in the face of a constricting industry. Do they still have it? Is the dream still alive?
Maybe that’s why Wain and Marino need to invent a dreamer stand-in with Gail, a guileless eternal optimist who knows nothing of the craven Los Angeles and accepts everything at face value (though she is filled with a scary bit of rage too). She might behave like she has a head injury, but she’s going to achieve her goal, dammit. “Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass” might not be as funny as “Wet Hot American Summer” (for this critic), but reframed, it serves as a fascinating status update on life in La La Land for this troupe.
‘Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass’
2 stars (out of 4)
MPA rating: R (for sexual content, violence/bloody images and language)
Running time: 1:33
How to watch: In theaters July 10
Entertainment
Emily Ratajkowski’s viral essay on sex life as a single mom scores her a seven-figure book deal
Emily Ratajkowski’s viral essay detailing her sex life as a single mom just landed her a seven-figure book deal.
According to Page Six, the model’s essay in the Cut had publishers champing at the bit in a 12-way bidding war that culminated in the hefty pay day. Editor Helen Rouner at Penguin Press — who also edited Lauren Christensen’s memoir “Firstborn” and Michael W. Clune’s novel “Pan” — reportedly landed the deal.
Penguin Press did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment Friday.
Publishers Marketplace announced the forthcoming memoir, describing it as “an examination of modern female identity through the story of the author’s own efforts as a newly single mother in New York City to discover what really constitutes a good life for a woman.”
The essay, which dropped a month ago and quickly broke the internet, drops the veil on EmRata’s sexual adventures (or maybe misadventures) since she and her former husband, Sebastian Bear-McClard, split in 2022.
“It was a violent transition into a new reality of screaming baby on my aching tit and ring on my swollen finger,” Ratajkowski writes of new motherhood. “And then, in a time period that felt both instant and excruciatingly slow, my marriage collapsed. Six months after my son was born, my husband and I stopped having sex. Less than a year later, we separated.”
In the missive, the model interrogates her sexuality — is she a Madonna or a whore? — while untangling bigger questions around gender, power and self-actualization. If Carrie Bradshaw wrote about “Sex and the City,” then Ratajkowski is writing about sex, the city and single motherhood. And naturally, her fleeting paramours have vague monikers: “Vegan Graffiti Artist,” “Spanish Gen-Zer” and “Son of a Billionaire.”
“And then there was the Elder Millennial: obsessed with dental hygiene, psychedelics, and dirty talk,” she writes. “He had approached the subject coyly at first, like it was something he was kind of embarrassed about — the way a kid will test you to see if you’ll talk to them about their dorky obsession of the moment. Do you like Godzilla? What about Star Wars?”
Would-be sleuths with Ratajkowski’s essay and a gossip rag handy will have their work cut out for them.
This will be Ratajkowski’s second book. The first, “My Body,” dropped in 2021 and was a bestselling collection of essays exploring gender, power dynamics, sexuality and the commodification of female beauty in the modeling and entertainment industries.
Ratajkowski’s foray into the spotlight came more than a decade ago when Robin Thicke’s controversial “Blurred Lines” music video made the model an overnight star. She was cast in David Fincher’s adaptation of “Gone Girl,” which hit theaters the following year, and catapulted to top fashion runways — Marc Jacobs, Versace, Victoria’s Secret and Dolce & Gabbana, to name a few. She she’s been romantically linked to Harry Styles, Eric Andre, Shaboozey, Brad Pitt and Pete Davidson, among others.
In 2023, she moonlighted as the host of the “High Low With EmRata” podcast, where she interviewed sex workers, investigated ethical nonmonogamy and pondered the etymology of the word “toxic.” The same year, she told The Times that she was coming into herself post-divorce, “Being able to assert what I want — that feels like it just started: My life as a creator and not as a muse.”
Movie Reviews
‘Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass’ Review: We’re Off to Hump the Wizard
Wainheads will be delighted to see his alums in cameos: Kerri Kenney-Silver, Michael Ian Black, Thomas Lennon, and supporting roles for Zickel and Truglio. A large portion of the cast are his homies. But with Deutch, Gutierrez-Riley, Wang, Slattery, Impacciatore, and yes, Hamm, it’s as if they’re being inducted into a new mad family. Wain and Marino are basically catching Pokémon and hoping they can hold onto the roster (by that logic, yes, Paul Rudd is a legendary Pokémon). The film is anchored by Zoey — everything everywhere all this summer with Voicemails From Isabelle to Minions & Monsters — Deutch in the Dorothy Gale role, exuding a high level of perkiness consistent with the character’s can-do, wide-eyed, midwestern charm and heart.
A major standout, Ben Wang finally gets to show off his comedic abilities, portraying a self-assured, quick-witted agent who makes me laugh every time he reveals his sheltered upbringing in snappy whines at every inconvenience. Sabrina Impacciatore, who has proven to be a comedic juggernaut in The Paper, is having so much fun hamming it up as the mob boss-esque wicked witch counterpart, torturing her henchmen and deliciously chewing up the scenery whenever onscreen. I don’t think they use her to the height of her comedic prowess, but she’s a delight nonetheless. John Slattery is the film’s comedic MVP. The way the writers use his over-the-top character for comedy is downright hilarious every time. They use him as either a punchline or a force of nature, and he’s great. This movie is like Mad Men propaganda, and by God, it works. As someone who’s never seen it, Gail allowed me a better appreciation for Slattery and Hamm.
Man, we don’t deserve Jon Hamm. This is the second time I’ve seen him play a silly, fictionalized version of himself this year (the other being the SXSW crowd-pleasing rom-com Wishful Thinking, which Gail distributor Sony Pictures Classics acquired), and he also voice-acted in his comedic Mayor Jerry role in Hoppers. Maybe working with Wain in 2007’s The Ten was the canon event, but I consider his weird little sex scene with Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids his awakening. Since then, I’ve only seen him as unserious, and it’s delightful. Oz-like in appearance, he’s funny and befitting the film’s overall light, joyful nature.
LAST STATEMENT
Ultimately, Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass is a campy, delightful romp that succeeds as both a distinctive Hollywood‑centric riff and a Wizard of Oz reimagining, retaining a loving, twisted, demented charm. It’s a weird description, but it’s so high‑spirited and light‑hearted despite being strangely ultraviolent. It might as well be a live‑action episode of Smiling Friends (RIP), yet it’s everything the theatrical market needs today. Ten years ago, this would’ve been a studio production rather than an indie Sundance acquisition, but thank God it exists for the big screen. More absurdist Gail Daughtrys for cinemas (not streaming), please, because this is the most fun to be had in a theater all summer, if not the year thus far.
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