By Paul Salfen, AMFM Magazine
Amidst sweltering heat advisories and casual chit-chat about Florida humidity and Texas asphalt waves, my conversation with rising urban country artist J. Michael Phillips and hip-hop heavyweight Yelawolf quickly dove into the raw, resilient heart of their collaborative album Whiskey & Roses. Released on July 11th via Yelawolf’s independent label Slumerican, this 10-track gem, produced by Taysty at Nashville’s East Iris Studios, melds Phillips’ soulful storytelling with Yelawolf’s gritty edge. As Phillips aptly describes life—and the album—“It’s harsh and it’s great. It’s whiskey and roses.”
The project, a sonic journey through triumphs and trials, features standout singles like the outlaw anthem “I Swear,” dubbed a “country rap juggernaut” and “instant classic,” which tackles overindulgence and defying expectations with a fearless mantra. The June 13th release “Searching For Heaven,” directed by Patrick Tohill (known for work with Jelly Roll and NF), continues the narrative from “I Swear”’s video (over 1 million views), pondering how temptation strikes just before breakthroughs. Other highlights include the R&B-infused “Amnesia” and “Yay Yay Yay” with Struggle Jennings.
Phillips, chilling in Tampa with family during a tour break, opened up about his against-all-odds story. “It’s all God at the end of the day,” he says, reflecting on his transition from street life to music. Growing up between Tacoma, Washington, and Toledo, Ohio, Phillips started writing poetry in first grade, inspired by his folk-singing mother. By age 13, he’d penned his first song. But life took a detour: “I thought I was living in my purpose, but I came back from the truth.” Years in and out of prison honed his craft—music as “therapy” and “saving grace.” He famously smuggled a mic in a Chipotle box, recording tracks that hit iTunes, sparking complaints from victims’ families and prison raids. “I got incident reports and proof,” he laughs, teasing a documentary with blurred-faced guards and inmates. “You can’t make this stuff up.”
His pivot to urban country came after losing his best friend to fentanyl and welcoming his son (now nearly 7). “That’s when I started my transition… my roots are country,” he explains, nodding to Ohio’s farmland and “street country” vibe, distinct from “hillbilly” stereotypes. Phillips tagged manager Edward Crowe (aka Zilla) in a “Diamond Ring” video—singing in a jewelry store about affording a ring for his girl—and within days, he was Nashville-bound. A handshake sealed the deal, opening doors to Yelawolf.
Yelawolf, joining mid-conversation, praised Phillips’ “whole new take on country… really rare right now.” Their bond formed organically: “We built a relationship first without the music… grew up in the same time period, so many similarities.” Yelawolf didn’t know Phillips made music for the first month and a half. Once revealed, sessions kicked off with “Big Trucks” and “Honey Hole.” But “Amnesia” was the game-changer. “It shed light on us both loudly,” Yelawolf says. “I treated it like an old MPC 2000… chopped it down like J Dilla.” Phillips agrees: “When he sent it back, I hit him like, ‘Bro, we got one.’”
Generosity defines their dynamic. Phillips marvels, “Who opens up their fanbase to their artists? He’s like, ‘This is my dog.’” Fans embraced Phillips’ urban country at their first show in Reno, despite nerves. “They accepted me with open arms… showed me dumb love.” Timing aligns with country’s evolution, filling a void where “kids still go to the hip-hop world for music.”
Both draw from broken pasts—Yelawolf cites L.A. Reid: “The reason I was so good at Yelawolf is because I was broken.” Phillips echoes, turning tragedy to success. Their advice to aspiring artists? Relentless hustle. Phillips: “Success happens when preparation and opportunity meet… never give up when you know your purpose.” Yelawolf: “Immerse yourself… no plan B… be willing to give your life up.” Failures? “They don’t stop, they get less frequent.” Hail Marys are daily: “I throw one nearly daily… the risk is the reward.”
Mindset fuels them. Phillips pivots from adversity: “I don’t look at the negative… how am I going to overcome?” Yelawolf sets unattainable goals: “Aim for Mars and land on the moon… still successful.” Fresh off a Rolls Royce Cullinan delivery (custom-designed over years), he drove straight to the studio: “Already complacent… let’s keep it moving.”
Live, “I Swear” electrifies on Yelawolf’s sold-out 45 Tour, resuming July 3rd. “Amnesia takes off like a motherfucker,” but verses slip Yelawolf’s mind amid tour chaos—promising it for the “third leg.” Texas stops in November: Dallas, Houston, Fort Worth, San Antonio.
Looking ahead, Yelawolf’s 45 (all singing, with Malay) promises a “paradigm shift… feels massive.” Phillips, “extremely proud” after hearing it, gears up with songwriter DeRay (behind Jelly Roll hits like “Save Me”). Close with Struggle Jennings and Doobie, Phillips eyes a Jelly Roll collab: “I have one in mind… it’s coming.”
From prison mics to Nashville studios, Whiskey & Roses proves resilience wins. As Phillips says, “It’s never too late to turn your life around.” Stream now, catch them live—visit yelawolf.com for tour details.
