Willy Cobb is not your typical Southern artist. Growing up in the small-town heart of Georgia, he channels his deep roots into music that defies convention. Cobb’s sound is an intense fusion of country grit and punk rebellion, balancing raw emotional vulnerability with a fierce “don’t care what you think” attitude. With tracks like Boy Toy and the Country Punkin’ EP garnering attention, Cobb is fast becoming a force in the Nashville scene, proving that boundaries—whether in genre or attitude—are meant to be pushed. His music speaks to outsiders, rebels, and anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t fit the mold.
“Boy Toy” is a powerful and emotionally charged single. Can you take us through the process of creating this track? What personal experiences inspired the lyrics?
I wrote “Boy Toy” in my room one day when I was feeling really down about a situation. It’s about when someone makes you feel like you’re just an easy option for them. I took it into the studio about a year later, after sending it to Jaren Johnston. He loved it, and we recorded it after we finished all the songs for the Country Punkin’ EP.
The song’s production is dynamic, with a mix of slow-burning beats and fuzzed-out power chords. How did you and your team develop the sonic feel of “Boy Toy”?
I drew a lot of inspiration from bands like Radiohead—that minor chord at the end, for example. When I first created the song, it was just an acoustic track in my room. Then I sent it to Jaren Johnston, and he had it tracked out within a week! When we went into the studio, Kelby Ray added a whole new flavor with his steel guitar. He really tears it up on that thing, giving it that whiny, puddle-dripping feeling.
The lyric “How could I enjoy being your boy toy?” really stands out. What emotions were you channelling when you wrote that line, and how does it resonate with your audience?
Honestly, I was just pissed off! I was tired of getting calls at 3 o’clock in the morning when I had to be up early. Just because you’ve been hanging with your boyfriend all day doesn’t mean you can call me at 3 a.m.
Your EP Country Punkin’ received great feedback and was described as “ragged punk energy” mixed with “country grit.” How do you balance these two seemingly opposite genres in your music?
That’s just me! There’s nothing “country” about my music other than me. It’s definitely a difficult road, trying to balance those two. I’ve struggled with it a lot. Some songs lean more towards punk energy, others might have a country vibe, but they aren’t strictly either genre musically. It’s more about the emotion of the song, not the chords or lyrics.
In previous interviews, you’ve been described as a “boundary-pushing talent.” What boundaries in the music industry do you think you’re challenging with your sound and style?
When people think of Georgia musicians, they typically think of someone like Luke Bryan. But between me, the band Honeyknife, and a few others out of Atlanta, we’re the only ones (that I know of) making music like this coming out of Georgia.
“Cigarette Smell” also received a lot of attention, with Rolling Stone naming it one of the “Songs You Need to Know.” How does the success of tracks like this influence your songwriting process going forward?
The success of that song hasn’t made songwriting easier for me. Writing the rest of the Country Punkin’ EP, especially, was tough because most of the songs are kind of sad and slow compared to Cigarette Smell. I definitely feel pressure to recreate that magic. But I wrote Cigarette Smell when I was just having fun, not overthinking it. I need to do more of that—just write and have fun without taking myself too seriously.
You recently toured with Chris Shiflett and The Cadillac Three. How did those experiences shape you as an artist, and what did you take away from performing alongside such established acts?
I had toured before, working as a merch guy for other artists, so I knew how tours worked. But these were the first times I toured as an artist. Neil and Jaren (from The Cadillac Three) and Chris were incredibly helpful, teaching me so much about what makes a show work. The best advice they gave me? Always be nice.
Growing up in Georgia, you were influenced by both country music and grunge. How do those contrasting influences impact your songwriting, and how do you navigate the fusion of Southern roots with punk attitude?
It’s a thin line to walk, especially since these are two of the most gate-kept genres. But for me, the sound isn’t country. What makes it “country” is me—growing up in a town with less than 1,500 people, working on a farm, and everything my dad taught me. It’s about the roots, not the sound.
You’ve mentioned before that you connect with kids who feel like outsiders in their communities. How do you hope your music speaks to those who don’t fit into the typical Southern mold?
There’s a stigma around the South—that we’re all dumb rednecks, conservative, homophobic, or racist. But not everyone fits that stereotype, and I hate that people assume we do. Some folks from my hometown just want to “get out,” but I want people to be proud of where they’re from and be part of a new generation with a new voice.
Working with big names like Brent Cobb and Jaren Johnston must have been a unique experience. What did you learn from them in terms of production, songwriting, or navigating the industry?
Brent has taught me a ton. He’s like family and always has my back, offering advice and guidance. He even helped write Country Punkin’ and Daddy on Drugs from my EP. Jaren Johnston, my “Nashville dad,” has been a huge help too, whether it’s about equipment or advice. His musical mind is incredible—he can take something I play on an acoustic guitar and turn it into a full production.
Nashville has long been associated with country music, but you’re part of a wave of artists redefining the city’s musical landscape. What’s your take on the current music scene in Nashville, and where do you see yourself within it?
There’s so much happening in Nashville right now. I like to see myself somewhere between New Translations and Ben Chapman. There’s a ton of talent in this city, and it’s growing fast. It’s becoming the LA of the South, and I’m all for it.
Your music carries a distinct “don’t care what people think” attitude. How important is that mindset to your personal life and music career, especially as someone blending such unconventional genres?
These genres are definitely gate-kept. I’ve seen it firsthand in some of the comments people make—they’re honestly making themselves look foolish. But that’s the point: I don’t care. I’m not saying my music is punk or country; people just say that about my attitude. I’m not trying to fit into a specific genre.
“Boy Toy” delves into complicated relationships and emotional vulnerability. How do you approach writing about such personal and often painful subjects? Do you find it cathartic?
Writing about personal experiences definitely helps me feel better. There’s an unreleased song called Chapters that was cathartic to write. The first time I sang it in my room, it felt bigger than me, like I was just a muse. Every time I sing that song, I almost break down. It’s like that feeling you get the first time you hear a song and get chills. That’s the kind of release I feel when I sing it, and that’s what makes me feel good about writing.
With both Country Punkin’ and “Boy Toy” getting attention, what’s next for you? Can we expect a full album, more singles, or any exciting collaborations in the near future?
I definitely have more songs coming! I have an Unplugged release coming out in November, which we recorded at Sound Emporium in Nashville. I love the idea of an unplugged project because it shows a more vulnerable side. Plus, it’s pure nostalgia—I’ve watched Nirvana Unplugged probably over 100 times. Eventually, I hope to put together a full-length album, but that will take some time. I also want to get back on the road and keep writing.
Lastly, what message do you hope listeners take away from “Boy Toy”? Is there a specific feeling or thought you want them to hold on to after hearing the track?
If you’re going through the same situation, I want you to know you’re not alone. You’ve got this. And don’t take any shit from whoever it is. Tell them to fuck off.
