By Kyle Eustice
Yelawolf just pulled up to the Hidden Valley Golf Club, where he’s sipping on a Corona and soaking up the California sun. It’s a momentary respite from the grind of tour life, one the Tennessee native has been accustomed to now for decades. As he makes his way across the country on The 45 Tour, named after his upcoming album, 45, he’ll land at Colorado Springs’ Ford Amphitheater on June 13 and at Denver’s Mission Ballroom on June 14 with Memphis rap royalty Three 6 Mafia.
It’s another day in the life of the Slumerican record label founder, who started his career in his hometown of Antioch, releasing mixtape after mixtape until he caught the attention of Interscope Records with 2010’s Trunk Muzik. That led to a joint venture with Eminem’s Shady Records, where he released his second album, 2011’s Radioactive. His third album, 2015’s Love Story, peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard 200 chart and spawned the platinum-certified single “Till It’s Gone.” After two more albums, he left the label and established himself as an independent juggernaut, beginning with the release of 2019’s Ghetto Cowboy.
Needless to say, Yelawolf’s output is staggering. Always the versatile artist, he’s never been confined to one genre, although most people probably consider him a rapper. Those assumptions were smashed to pieces in 2022 with the release of Sometimes Y, his collaborative album with country star Shooter Jennings. The project further illustrated Yelawolf’s impressive range, proving his vocal chops go far beyond rap. But, like any true artist, he shook things up again in 2024 with the double-album War Story, a robust return to his hip-hop roots.
Now, Yelawolf is focused on his next collaborative project, Whiskey & Roses, with Slumerican artist J. Michael Phillips, out July 11. The duo released one of the singles, “I Swear,” in May and while it’s not necessarily country, it does have a country tinge to it.
“This is a collaboration album and I’m basically introducing him,” he says. “When my manager brought J. Michael Phillips to the crew, I believed in his story—and that’s a big, big thing for me. I heard his talent and I didn’t know what our album was going to sound like, honestly, but I just kind of started digging around.
“I knew it couldn’t lean too much into country because I just didn’t want to go there, so we just went in [the studio] and let it flow. I took the reins, so to speak, on the musical compositions and arrangements and shit. It’s gotta be him, but it’s gotta be me, as well, so I had more opportunities to do some hip-hop verses.”
Yelawolf is dipping back in his rapping bag for 45 with longtime producer Malay for something Wolf says is “completely different” from anything he’s done previously.
“I stopped growing up a long time ago,” he explains. “I’m getting older, sure, and I matured and got wiser but as far as how I move and what I do, that hasn’t changed at all. I feel like I’m in a perpetual state of evolving. Just when I think like, ‘Ah man, I might have tapped out the hip-hop side of things with War Story,’ then 45 just brought out a whole brand new side working with Malay.”
But Yelawolf has earned the right to experiment. He has a deep appreciation for his current position in life but vividly remembers those early days when he was living in a run-down apartment with barely a dime in his pocket.
“We’ve been the most grateful on this tour,” he says. “You work your ass off to get to this level, and I’m very grateful, but I also know this is 20 years of work. I know that people say ‘I wish’ or ‘I didn’t get a chance,’ and I can’t really say that I believe in that because I got my master’s degree. I spent my time working. So if I was wanting to be a doctor or a brain surgeon, I did 10, 15 years of school, and now I’m a brain surgeon. I do what I want. People can have anything they want. What they lack is dedication.”
Dedication has taken him around the world, put multiple cars in his driveway, paid for his house and given him a life most people only dream of. Still, at the end of the day, he’s eternally moved by those who show up to support him.
“The best part about touring is connecting with the fans personally and having that tangible experience, seeing you and maybe getting some merch,” he says. “We do signings every every show, so we get the meet and greets going. That’s the best part, just rockin.”
There are some downsides to touring, of course, but those are few and far between.
“The worst part of touring is when you’re starting out, like when you’re in a van,” he says. “Me, I got no complaints. I’m in a beautiful bus. I get to sleep. I’m very well taken care of by my managers and team.
“But when you first start, it’s a grind. JT Loux, they’re a five-piece. They’re in a passenger van and sleeping on the floor. J. Michael and his DJ are in a rental truck, following the tour bus. They’re really grinding. But right now I’m chilling. At my level, the worst part of touring is the airports, when you have to fly and deal with that shit. That sucks.”
He’ll have another factor to consider once he reaches 6,000 feet in Colorado Springs.
“I’ll tell you, the altitude is different,” he says with a laugh. “You get seriously winded, so you gotta pay attention.”
Anyone who’s seen a Yelawolf show—even at Colorado’s high altitudes—has witnessed his unbridled energy and enthusiasm when he hits the stage. Backed by DJ Klever, whose long, wavy hair and black leather jacket makes him look more like a member of ZZ Top than a beast on the 1s and 2s, Yelawolf sails through each set like the seasoned vet he is. And he’s built a loyal team that rides with him no matter what, though it took time to assemble.
“It’s pretty fucking dope,” he says of his career. “I’ve put people personally through a sifter over the years and only the best can stick around. It takes years to discover that maybe someone you’re running with isn’t the right person. It starts to weed out until you have permanent crew of amazing people, people that I’ll likely spend the rest of my life working with.
“We still have rookies in the crew. When I started my imprint, I had about five or six artists that I was working with and I told them on a text thread, ‘Some of you are not going to make it.’ Out of those, there’s only two left and they’re on the road with me—J. Michael and JT Loux. Some people are just not made for it.”
