The Last Song We Ever Wrote

Last week, the Nashville songwriting community was rocked on its foundations by the suicide of songwriter/producer Kyle Jacobs. To the world outside Nashville, he was best known as the husband of country artist and TV celebrity Kellie Pickler. But we knew him as an incredible hit songwriter, a deep thinker, a talented producer (he produced several of Lee Brice's records), an infinitely kind soul, and an all-round hilarious and fun guy to spend time with. 

I still recall the first time I met Kyle, on a Curb Music songwriting retreat. I can still see him sitting at the grand piano in the living room of a little A-frame cabin with a sun-dappled stream framed by the window behind him.  We had just met, but it only took us moments to feel like we'd known each other for ages. We talked about life and love and the meaning of it all, and we wrote a song that made us cry. He wasn't afraid to cry, and I loved that about him.

Then we drank some tequila shots and drove a golf cart through the stream and out the other side like it was a rollercoaster, and laughed til we almost peed our pants. That was Kyle...both sides of the coin: tender and tough, hilarious and instrospective, all at once.

When I heard that Kyle was gone, I immediately thought about the last song I ever wrote with him. We were writing with Mickey Guyton that day, and Kyle had just bought a new electric guitar, so he plugged it into a little amp and just started noodling around on it. What he played was so mesmerizing that before we knew it, the song had fallen out of us. We were just tapped into something together that was bigger than we were.

I ended up recording and releasing the song on my Indigo record ("Yours": hear my version here).  But now, one of my most treasured memories is our little rough worktape recording that Mickey sang, with Kyle playing guitar and harmonizing with me on background vocals.* It takes me right back to that moment when we were so absorbed in the music we were creating together, and just resonating with it. Of course I didn't know at the time that that would be the last song I'd ever write with Kyle. I suppose that's how life is supposed to be. We were high on the music, and we were hovering in that moment together...so in the end, it's a perfect memory, and I couldn't ask for more than that.

Godspeed, Kyle. Wherever you are now, I hope you're hovering in music the way we did that day. 

*I’m not making a public release of the recording we made on the day we wrote “Yours”, but I have shared it privately with my Ko-fi club subscribers at the following link: https://ko-fi.com/post/The-Last-Song-We-Ever-Wrote-P5P7IZG4J