Mike Kinnebrew's Call It Life: A Family Man's Middle-Age Reckoning

Mike Kinnebrew has never shied away from the personal, but his latest album, Call It Life, is a full-scale reckoning with middle age, ambition, and the quiet fear that we might be settling for less than we deserve. The album, which we discussed in depth on the Curious Goldfish Podcast (check out the full episode below), is Mike’s latest creation of introspective, roots-driven songwriting.

In a world that often typecasts men as stoic figures, emotionally guarded and allergic to sentiment, Kinnebrew's music is a powerful counter-narrative. The prevailing generalization suggests men shy away from baring their souls or finding profound meaning in the quiet, domestic details of everyday life. Mike, however, builds his entire musical thesis on these very things, dedicating 'Call It Life' to the kind of vulnerable introspection many are taught to avoid.

Hailing from Macon, Georgia, Mike lays bare a collection of truths, anxieties, and heartfelt observations masterfully blending Americana, folk, and Southern rock influences, anchored in a faith that is omnipresent without being obnoxious about it.

He has built a career in the long lineage of Southern folk artists, often drawing comparisons to classic songwriters like Tom Petty and Jackson Browne. His previous work, including the 2010 album Between the Living and the Dying and the 2020 live record One Way to Find Out, established him as a musician with a knack for finding the remarkable in the ordinary. Where those earlier projects sometimes felt like the work of an artist searching for his place, Call It Life feels like a married father’s decisive confession, finding depth in settled life.

The album’s core theme is the tension between aspiration and contentment, best encapsulated by the twin pillars of “Simple Life” and the title track. “Simple Life” starts with a candid look back: “As long as I have been alive, I don't know why I've wanted something more.” But the track concludes that maybe "something more, isn't always more when what it takes from you / Is more than you can stand to lose.” It’s an incredibly relatable sentiment that resonates deeply, particularly for listeners navigating the middle years and reconsidering the chase for fame ("I won't kill myself for an ounce of fame no more").

This internal tug-of-war culminates in “Call It Life,” a weary but honest assessment of domesticity. It paints a familiar picture of waking up early, working the job, and feeling the "tragic awareness, of passing time." The chorus, which lands with a gentle thud, asks: “But I...wanna live before I die / What can I...call this ache inside? / I guess you call it life.”

It's clear from our conversations that the album explores the "trade-offs of ambition," as I put it in our conversation, trying to balance the pursuit of a music career with the joy of everyday life. During our chat at the 30A Songwriters Festival, Mike expanded on the profound shift captured in “Simple Life.” He asked rhetorically: “What if at the end of your life you realized all you really wanted was a simple life at the end of this chasing after all these things? You had the ingredients all along.” That notion—that happiness is not a destination but a simple recognition of the present—serves as the grounding thesis for the entire record.

The real emotional depth of the record arrives in two thoughtful tracks: “King Lear” and the album closer, “The Liar.” The former is a searing examination of modern distraction, listing every coping mechanism from drinks and pills to screens and casual relationships. Mike admits, “Every day I need to feel something / So I don't feel the things that I must really feel.” The song draws a connection between personal escapism and Shakespeare's tragedy, showing a thoughtful artist using big ideas to examine small, internal struggles.

It was during our 30A interview that Mike revealed “King Lear” is specifically about his own journey with sobriety, a topic he has openly shared about on social media and on his first appearance on Curious Goldfish. The song is a "confessional," particularly the second verse, which describes addiction as a pharmacy of temporary fixes: “This world's a drugstore of distractions. You just reach for one and tell yourself it's real. You can take a drink, a smoke, a pill, a screen, a show.” He points out the heartbreaking cycle of temporary relief in the track’s conclusion: “But when you start to come back down, / With your mind still hanging around. / Boy, you're gonna feel the real thing now.” This transparency is a key element of his appeal and gives the song incredible weight.

This emotional undercurrent continues in “Something Bad,” which captures the constant trepidation of waiting for good fortune to run out, using the gripping line, “Your only consolation, you won't live in trepidation / That something bad, is gonna happen pretty soon.”

But nothing prepares you for “The Liar.” It’s a gut-punch of vulnerability, a song about the mask we wear for loved ones.

And oh, the only time I tell the truth /Is when I open up a vein and write/The songs I sing to you

The sheer audacity of that statement—that his songs are his only honest interactions—is breathtaking. When we discussed this song for the podcast, Mike shared a quiet anecdote, saying, "the liar is a song that, uh, when I shared with Lindsay, she goes you okay? like, are we, should I be concerned? I said, no, but we're all those, we are all of those things…bright and shiny and dark and despairing.”

What elevates Call It Life from a collection of songs to a cohesive album is Mike's masterful use of juxtaposition in the tracklist. The pairing of tracks reveals the intentionality behind the album's title. The upbeat, optimistic "Good Day" is immediately followed by the dread-filled "Something Bad."

When I asked Mike about this specific sequencing, he confirmed the tracks are meant to be understood as one complex feeling: "I said, let's put 'Good Day'… and let's put it right next to 'Something Bad,' because that is life. Call it life. Which one is true? Which one is honest? They're both honest. I am both of these things. I am hoping it's a good day. I am dreading it's going to be a bad day." This structure reflects a mature understanding that life isn't a straight path to happiness, but a messy, authentic mixture of both light and darkness.

The album finds its necessary light in the tracks dedicated to family. “Love 101” is a beautiful, bittersweet narrative that swings from initial euphoria ("You wake up to the dream you've always wanted") to inevitable heartbreak, yet still concludes that the risk is worth it: “It's the best and worst you'll ever feel / But it's worth it when it's all been said and done.”

The collection is rounded out by tracks about his children. “Wrestle the Sea,” about his son, is a powerful, loving portrait of masculine energy and defiance: “He punches the waves and he punches me / The challenge is all that he needs.” And “Baby Girl” is a tender warning to his daughter: “Baby Girl, in this world / I've found chains that looked like charms / So if it costs you all you have / Guard your heart.” These songs anchor the existential dread in real, tactile love, making the overall message less about giving up and more about focusing on what truly lasts.

Finally, "Time" brings everything full circle, acknowledging the regrets of lost youth ("I'm still the same in many ways, just not the ones I'd choose / Cause I'm desperate to be liked") before landing on the ultimate exchange:

It’s this conclusion—that life’s greatest treasures are products of the very time we fear losing—that makes Call It Life a necessary roadmap for anyone navigating the complex journey of a full life. I give Mike a hard time about being Mr. Sentimental. But we need more of his style, of his perspective, because our perspectives often get too negative, too short-term-memory focused, and frankly, too busy to remember the good things we have. His album is a helpful companion while we all try to navigate it by ourselves.