Even a few short years ago, the possibility of another Alabama Shakes album sounded like a pipe dream. After dominating the first half of the 2010s with their biting but playful blend of blues, rock, folk, and soul — leading to performances at Obama’s White House and a nomination for Album of the Year at the 2016 Grammys for their sophomore album, Sound & Color — the Athens, Alabama, four-piece went dark at their commercial peak. But we didn’t learn the band was officially on hiatus until 37-year-old singer and guitarist Brittany Howard began to promote her celebrated autobiographical 2019 solo debut, Jaime, alongside Shakes bassist Zac Cockrell, and guitarist Heath Fogg followed with his own side project. Around the same time, their fourth co-founding member, drummer Steve Johnson, was arrested for violating his ex-wife’s order of protection, which led to a sentence of suspended jail time and probation, and again for a child-abuse charge that was later dismissed. When the band didn’t comment on Johnson or their future at the time, it especially felt like they were done.
Howard’s schedule became stacked with other priorities: She started a hardcore side project Kumite and released another solo album, the searing What Now, in 2024. But late that year, during her performance at a benefit for Tuscaloosa’s Druid City Brewing Company, Cockrell and Fogg joined her onstage for the first Shakes show since 2017. It sparked a full-fledged reunion tour, in which the now-trio revisited their classics — and, excitingly, played new music. Now, the long-awaited third Alabama Shakes album, I Must Be Dreaming, is real and out next week. After a decade, Howard has revived the band with a wider repertoire and pricklier purview, balancing the musings on romance and friendship she favored in past Shakes releases with the themes of queer love and political upheaval explored in her solo work.
Dreaming is every bit the delicious anachronism of its predecessors. New Shakes can sound like the Motown house band giving Berry Gordy a contusion by piling on too much fuzz (as on “Time,” a doo-wop routine with an explosive psych-rock coda) or like greasy ’70s funk bands that supplied unforgettable licks for ’90s hip-hop classics. I spoke to Howard about this new chapter on a break between touring engagements, which she spent tending to her Nashville home.
Take me back to the mid-2010s: The Shakes had an iPad commercial, a streak of brilliant late-night performances, the same nod for Album of the Year at the Grammys as Taylor Swift and Kendrick Lamar, a chart-topping album. Was anyone near you beside themselves wondering why you didn’t try to ride that out to the end of the decade?
Well, everybody wants different things in life. Some people want to be the best. Some people want the most. I don’t think that was really our target or trajectory. We’re friends. We like making music. We like playing shows. It was really kind of that simple. I think things got just a little complicated, and that wasn’t our design.
Did you encounter people who felt like you’d broken up the band just to do your own thing? Was Shakes this democratic songwriting process that maybe you felt the urge to step outside of for a while?
Everybody can think of it this way: Every person is their own ingredient. We all have things we reference. We all learn our own ways with our own experiences to bring to the table. I was curious about having different ingredients, creating a different recipe. I had never experienced that, never even tried that, never had time to. When I stepped back, I was like, Cool, maybe I’ll get a job at a record store. I wanted to do something normal, and I found myself writing a record again. I couldn’t stop myself. I’ve just been doing it for so long. That’s what I know how to do. I traveled the U.S. and saw national parks and did stuff I never had time or money or facility to do. Then I found myself wanting to write songs about things I had seen. There’s a lot of musicians I admired that I reached out to and they were open. Completely different people create a completely different sound. I was just curious if I could do it.
The first two Shakes albums credited all the players with all of the songwriting. Was that a function of how it got made or an attempt to avoid any fights over who got paid what?
We didn’t want to overcomplicate it. Just split it. And at the end of the day, we all want to see each other do well. We all show up in the studio. Maybe we have different roles. Maybe we put in different amounts of effort, but we want to see each other succeed. It’s just simple to split it.
You set the Shakes catalogue aside during the hiatus and stuck to solo music and covers at your shows. A lot of performers would never have stopped singing “Gimme All Your Love” on the road if they’d written it. What kept you away, and how has it felt to return?
I was doing my own music. It was scary to do that, but that’s what I was doing. I was really proud of that stuff and proud to grow something again because the Shakes were more established. A lot of people didn’t even know what my name was. They didn’t know who Brittany Howard was. So I went out there and it was fun. Of course, songs like “Sound & Color” and “Gimme All Your Love,” I missed playing those.
You even put aside the blue devil-horn Gibson, your signature guitar in the Shakes.
The Gibson was just in storage. I’ll play it a little bit longer. It needs repair work, so you’ll probably be seeing me play something else, finally, in the Shakes.
When the band reunited, I wondered whether the funk and hip-hop exploration of the solo records would still be in the picture. Dreaming goes for it in track one, “Tea Time.” I take it there’s no defined, specific Shakes sound in your mind?
The Shakes not being a specific sound is what I’ve always wanted. With our 2012 debut, Boys and Girls, we had years to be playing that music before deciding to record some songs. We didn’t know it would become what it was. I’m really proud of that album, but there was so much more we were into. When Sound & Color came out, we got to flex other parts of our repertoire. My records further explore that. With this one, it’s just more exploration. I see young people now and they kind of throw genre away. It doesn’t matter what your genre is. It’s your expression. That’s the Shakes.
You reconvened without your founding drummer, Steve Johnson. He gave an interview last year saying he was forced out and was still refusing to resign. What’s your response?
I mean, the thing is that’s Steve’s stuff. That’s his stuff. We’ve always been interested in being really good to each other, and that’s our reputation. Even when he says things that maybe are designed to be hurtful or whatever the intention was … at the end of the day, that’s still somebody whose life was changed alongside mine at that time. We went through something that was really remarkable, and I just don’t really want to speak on him. Basic dignity says I wouldn’t want someone speaking on me. And we’re not really in each other’s lives anymore.
The first taste of the new music we got was the somber “Another Life” last year, but I think “I Feel Hope Coming” and “American Dream” this year really charged the album cycle. They’re these two really different songs about what to do with the feeling that greater times are behind you and maybe ahead of you. Would you say that’s the theme this time?
Yeah. It’s also kind of that concept that maybe time is nonlinear. When you sit down and think about your life behind you, you can be more grateful and have less fear because the bad has already happened. When you look forward, you access a part of you that’s courageous and hopeful for more wonderful things to happen. I expect them to. I don’t expect my future to be dismal. The album is about that hope and losses and the times we’re living in.
I see “Hope” as a bookend to “Hold On”: Better days are far off in both stories. But in the older song, you’re 22, giving yourself a pep talk about a future that may not go your way when you need it to. “Hope” tells us to “get dug in” and survive as you have. Do you feel like your perspective and obligations as a songwriter have changed over time, like there’s stuff you have to get into at your post now that you didn’t use to worry about?
I mean, we have a song on the record like “Friends,” too, which is kind of juvenile in a way. That part of us still exists.
“Friends” is a lot like the first Shakes album’s title track, “Boys & Girls,” where there are all these forces pulling two people apart.
I’m not going to become a preachy person just because I’m older. Maybe I have a little bit more maturity because I’ve lived life longer, but I don’t have a handbook. Nobody does. What I do notice is patterns. When I’m writing about politics or about my outlook on the world in a song like “I Feel Hope Coming,” I see what’s happening around me, the groundwork being laid for real change and having to build up new systems, having to get connected again maybe without cell phones. There’s a coming back to humanity that I’m seeing amid all this chaos and terror that brings me hope because I do believe in human beings. I think we can do really great things.
Do you see the thread of outrage about AI data centers and certain consumer pushback against AI in business and music as pointing to this return to humanism?
I think people are finding out they’re more interesting without having to stare at their screens all day. Slowly but surely, that’s happening. I’m meeting a lot of young people who don’t want a smartphone. They don’t want to be a part of this technological world. They see how all this stuff is making a few guys very, very rich. People don’t want data centers because it’s not for them. Do you want to talk to a little chatbot or do you want to find an actual person who has life experience and feelings and emotions? Do I want candy, or do I want a meal? Do I want to feed billionaires?
I’m thinking about how one of the first and most pervasive sounds on the album is tape noise. It feels like you’re letting us know you’ve chosen corporeality.
We want things to feel tangible. I want my sound to have texture. I don’t want it compressed to death and glazed over, every note in a perfect place and every vocal take in perfect pitch. I like to get inside mistakes. When I listen to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, I’m hearing string buzz. I’m hearing dropped sticks. It makes me feel like I’m part of it. I always want to carry on a tradition. I could take my time and create something immaculate, but I don’t know if I’d want to listen to it myself.
Do you wish mainstream popular music right now were more reflective of how broken the world is?
Man, it’s all reflective. People just want to escape what the hell is going on. Every day, anything could happen, especially in America. I can understand why people want to listen to something generic and not worry about it and not think about words too hard. I’m happy for them. It’s not a bad way to escape.
Pop music is enchanted with electric guitar this year between the Charli XCX and Olivia Rodrigo rock albums. Do you feel any shift? Are there more Shakes fans now than when you put the band on pause?
There are different Shakes-fan generations. People who were kids are grown up now buying their own tickets with their own jobs and houses. There’s lots of people who have been listening to the albums and never got to see us in those seven or eight years we weren’t touring. They’re showing up now and that’s cool. I ask at night how many people are at their first Shakes show and a lot of hands go up. There’s people who are returning to us, and there’s a lot of new fans.
The Shakes never left popular culture. Your songs were racking up television and film placements during the hiatus. Did that free you to branch out, knowing there was always a base you could come back to? Or was it this standard you were measured up to?
The industry has changed for musicians. A lot of people I think are amazingly talented don’t get to tour because they’ll lose money they don’t have. Ever since COVID, it’s a whole different ball game. If we can get some syncs to help us pay the bills and rent studio time and do what we want to do, amen. To me, that’s free money. I love it. I don’t expect fans to understand how the industry really works. But when I’m not touring, I’m writing new music. If I’m not doing a Shakes project, I’m doing a different project. I’m always working. It’s very rare that I’m just, like, doing nothing.
For a while, I was pretty sure the next album we’d get from you would be a hardcore affair.
When I was in middle school and high school, I was really into the hardcore scene. I was going up to an aluminum factory like, “Can we have a hardcore show here?” But I never got to experiment with it as a musician. I went in a different direction. I wasn’t sure I could sing like that, either. But fast-forward, I met some really great guys in a band called Second Spirit, and we wanted to do an event to activate the Nashville community about helping people with food. Costs are high. There are people in our community who can’t buy groceries for their kids. The idea was to throw a hardcore show, have my name in it, and I’d start a band so people came to it to raise a lot of money. We raised $20,000 to $25,000 that night, which is awesome. Kumite started there. We’re actually doing a full-length. We’ll probably finish it this winter. I couldn’t blow my voice out before I went out with the Shakes.
There are a lot of frustrating misconceptions about the politics of the South.
The perceptions of the South aren’t all untrue. We can be slow to progress. Many people want things to stay the way they’ve always been. That’s our curse. What I do want people to realize is there’s so many people who want things to change who have their feet on the ground and are actually trying to unite people. It’s important, especially in more rural places, that we come together because no matter what we believe, a tornado can come through and boom. We’re on the same level: Nobody got nothing. You’re helping your neighbor. You’re chopping up a tree. We have a lot of diversity in the South, and we’ve always found a way to live together. Civil rights, Jim Crow, history that galvanized southern Democrats. We know how to be strong, and we know how to try, try again. I want people to realize it’s not all red down here.
After the 2024 election, there was this mind-set that places that cut red are entirely red. You’d see people from the Midwest or South posting about frustrations with the government to a “fuck around and find out” response. Red state–blue state debates offer nothing to people in Memphis and Nashville who feel their state and local leadership work against them. I looked at the recent Nashville primary results to see what happened with Representative Andy Ogles in Congress, who was in the news for his appalling Islamophobia, and he got voted out. Many see that and think Great, then flake.
Sometimes it’s one foot forward, two steps back. We’re fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting down here. It’s been going on for years. The government that is seated right now in Tennessee don’t want to be unseated. They got a lot of money they make from being in power. Nashville being a tourist attraction, you can see what’s going on: We got a new stadium! You’re going to lose some power during winter. Sorry about that. They don’t care about us. I see people getting hip to that, especially trying to buy groceries and just trying to pay a light bill. People are fed up. We’ll see what happens next.
On Sound & Color’s “Future People,” you wish you could meet an older version of yourself for guidance. What would Brittany of 2026 want the Brittany of 2015 to know that she wasn’t aware of at the time?
Like anybody else would, I’d tell myself, It’s going to work out. It’s gonna be all right. I’d also say, Spend more time with your elders. Go sit with your grandma more when you get off the road and tour less. You going to be all right. You don’t got to hit it so hard. That’s what I’d say.
