“This album is definitely the most honest and personal collection of songs I’ve released so far. It’s a story about figuring it out. Failing, dusting yourself off, and trying again, all the while learning to be okay if you fail more. I knew early on that it would take time to gather enough songs to tell this story. I was growing in real-time, and you can’t speed up life’s lessons.”
The songs on Bobby Duncan’s new album, Maybe This Time, certainly did take their time — some were written as far back as 2010, on the heels of his third studio album’s release. That last full-length album, 2012’s Forever From Here, written with his longtime writing partner, Donovan Dodd, and produced by Justin Tockett, marked a shift for the singer-songwriter, who played 200 shows a year had achieved some radio success in his home state of Texas. He could sense a change in the music he was making and in himself — moving further away from the early ambitions of his youth towards a more comprehensive view of a full-time music career. His songs had more of a pop influence than his previous work, and the road felt tiring, so he decided to let his band go and focus on releasing that album, never really expecting so much time would pass before its follow-up. When the album came out, he and his wife were living together but not yet married, and life was beginning to take on a new structure. He continued to play acoustically but didn’t put a band together to tour in support of it.
“I was enjoying a part of life I hadn’t experienced before,” he says. “That’s when I started writing the songs that became this album. We got married, started having kids, and the years picked up pace. It’s hard to believe it’s been nine years between studio albums, and while I didn’t intend on a gap that large, I’m thankful for that time.”
“I’ve grown immensely,” he continues. “I have more patience. I understand the things I lacked in the early days, and hopefully, I’ve learned enough not to repeat any mistakes. But, I still have an itch to be heard and to be in front of large crowds. I hope this new album gives me the ability to see those crowds grow again. I plan on doing everything I can to make that happen.”
While some artists might be quick to point out the central line running through their latest collection and offer a brief statement that sums everything they have to say in a neat little package, he’s reluctant to do so with Maybe This Time. “This record is a bit of a Frankenstein album,” he notes. “It was pieced together over a long period of time — until finally, it had life.”
If one actually were to sum up these ten songs, succinctly, as an outsider, they might say that it centers around what it means to find your place in life, to dig your heels into where you’ve landed and savor the sweet moments while still asking questions and feeling life’s insecurities from time to time.
“I’ve been a seeker, I’ve battled faith, I’ve searched for answers and been lost along the way,” he sings on the title track. It’s easy to find familiarity in such a statement, as well as the following line: “And I’ve been a gambler, but I’ve never put it all on the line. I’ve spent my life holding back, but maybe this time…”
Maybe This Time begins with a song called “Close Enough to Break Your Heart.” It’s a theme Bobby has written about often — holding on when things seem to be falling apart around you. “My wife and I broke up about six months after we started dating,” he says. “I was obstinate in my youth, and she called me on it. I’ve reflected on that time while listening to this song. The connection to that early time in our life together really solidified it as a part of this album, and it’s really the beginning of the journey.”
“Love All Along” follows closely behind, written in the weeks before the couple got married. Looking back, it almost acted as a crystal ball. “Most likely, it was my therapeutic way of calming my insecurities. The doubts I possessed that I would be very good at anything unselfish and a plea for patience on her end. Nine years later, we’re still going strong, and I often reflect on how many of the milestones written in the song that we’ve already passed.”
The bright keys on “Down on the Avenue” act as a tour guide of sorts through Bobby’s neighborhood, an eclectic place with a vibrant variety of folks making up the community. “We have doctors, hippies, musicians, hermits, and more,” he says. “All of us are anchored by a street called Magnolia Avenue. There are restaurants and neighborhood haunts up and down this half-mile stretch of road. This place, and the people who fill it, are very dear to me. I’m proud to represent them with this song, and I hope I’ve done it well.”
It seems to make sense that an album completed in 2020 would include a love letter to home, especially in this particular situation. Before the pandemic’s arrival, Bobby and his family briefly moved to New Jersey for his wife’s job. He had begun working on the album, completing some principle recording at Fort Worth Sound. But as things often do amid significant changes, he set the project aside, not knowing what his family’s immediate future looked like. Eventually, he decided to tie up loose ends and finish the project, having the album’s players add their parts remotely. Adam Odor at Yellow Dog Studios in Wimberly, TX, mixed the various pieces to complete the final picture.
A constant through-line of Maybe This Time is, of course, Bobby’s transition into fatherhood. He and his wife received a crash course in their newest phase of life when they welcomed twins to their family a few years back; “Enough“ was written soon after the monumental change. “I was having a difficult time letting go of the old me and embracing this ‘new me,’ or at least some type of ‘me’ I assumed everyone expected me to be,” he says. “I made mistakes. Big and small. After some deep and honest reflection on who I wanted to be as a husband and a father, I wrote this song. I’ll always be a work in progress, but it’s nice to have a bit of a blueprint.”
Perhaps the best example of the album’s journey as a whole can be found in “Something to Lose,” bringing listeners up to date on his life since the release of Forever From Here. “It encompasses every part of my journey, from who I was when I wrote the songs on my last album to these songs on this album,” he says. “It’s leaving behind the parts of us that we knew when life was ‘I’ and ‘me’ instead of ‘we.’ The realization that the things I do and say from this moment on reflect on the person I’ve chosen to spend life with and the children we’ve introduced to this world.”
The album also finds Bobby co-writing with Walt Wilkins on “Everything Just Might Be Alright.” Those well-versed in the music scene in Texas are likely more than familiar with the name, as many a writer count him as a songwriting hero and one of the scene’s mainstay talents — known as much for his way with words as the wisdom found within them. In addition to producing two of Bobby’s earlier albums, he also helped Bobby hone his earlier writing.
“I started playing music professionally at 18,” he notes. “I had been playing around for friends previously and fell in love with the performance side of it — it was very intoxicating, that first time performing in front of people I didn’t know, and I began to feel that there was an avenue for me to pursue music as a profession. Of course, one thing always leads to another when networking, and I was told to send some songs to Walt Wilkins.”
“I often tell people that he taught me how to play the guitar like an adult. I met Walt after I had written a handful of songs and had begun playing around the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. He gave me three of his albums and I lived with them for about six months. I absorbed everything in them. The melodies, the lyrics, and the depth of their production suggested I had a long way to go on my journey.”
After a few months, Wilkins agreed to produce Bobby’s first album, Lonesome Town, in 2006, and it was off to the races. “I try not to harbor too many regrets, but it’s healthy to remember a period of life where I wish I could have done better, he notes. “This was definitely it for me. I was too young to understand how difficult this music life can be. I felt entitled to far too much, but I was humbled rather quickly.”
“Sometimes you got to take the long road, sometimes fast, sometimes slow,” he sings in the album’s final track, an apt closing note for a collection that took its time, that lives in the questions that can still exist inside contentment.
“Sometimes you lead, sometimes you have to follow. Sometimes it’s best to not know which way to go.” It’s a journey, after all, and Maybe This Time captures all the twists and turns that make life worth living.
