The best things in life are always worth the wait. In the case of TORRES and Julien Baker, that sentiment couldn’t be more true. It’s taken nine years for the album they discussed making when they first met to come to fruition, but with ‘Send A Prayer My Way’, they’ve proven that patience really is a virtue. “This is the thing I’ve been most excited about for years,” says TORRES, otherwise known as Mackenzie Scott. Julien agrees: “It’s been such a long and storied tale to getting this album out.”

Both have forged their own paths to this point - navigating impressive, inventive careers that have allowed them to truly get to the bottom of their own artistry was crucial when it came to joining forces. ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ likely wouldn’t have taken this final form without that wait, and it arrives at a time when an infinitely comforting, trail-blazing record is needed perhaps more than ever.

“There was a bunch of stuff that is on there now that wasn’t before,” Julien reflects. “It was the shape of it, but I’m glad that we spent more time on it. We could’ve put it out, but it would’ve been six or eight months before I did the boygenius campaign. It would’ve bummed me out to release something, get all excited about it and then have to switch gears to another project. I’m happy, even though it was hard, to wait even longer and sit on this thing. I’m happy that we get to give it full attention and not try to rush a bunch of stuff in or have it on top of each other with where we can play, or what interviews we are doing, or when tour is. I’m glad that we ended up waiting so that it could get the full life of an album it deserves.”

The start of that cycle began with ‘Sugar in The Tank’ - an immediate glimpse of how the forthcoming album would widen the sounds of both artists. If it wasn’t clear from the track’s music video, which sees the pair donning cowboy hats and line dancing, it’s a love letter to the country genre, and the album follows suit. Vastly different from anything either artist has released prior to this, the record’s process involved a great deal of learning and adjusting, both to the genre and each other.

“Being vulnerable in my personal life is one thing, but to be in the studio making something with somebody is deeply personal to me on a level I can’t describe,” shares Mackenzie. “Especially if I’m writing with somebody — me and Julien were collaborating fully on this record together, and for me to be able to trust somebody’s instinct and know that they’re not going to put me in a position where I have to really put my foot down about something… just knowing that Julien’s choices are going to align with mine, but also challenge or take me outside of some of the prescribed parameters that I might normally keep myself in. There’s a fine balance that I think we were able to strike between each of us getting to really put ourselves into these songs and the production of this record while expanding a little bit into each other’s sonic worlds that we have explored independently of one another.”

Creating the record allowed both Mackenzie and Julien to really call into question their own habits and approaches and take inspiration from the other. It was a step outside of their comfort zones and into a new space that this collaboration allowed them to inhabit.

“I am a fan of the jam,” Julien admits. “It’s been hard for me to do what you do so well, Mackenzie - that’s been something I’ve gleaned from just being a fan of your work is following a single idea through and not allowing it to be compromised. I have so much self-doubt that I’m like, oh yeah, well, if you think it should be this other way, then it’s probably I’m stupid, and this was dumb to begin with. It’s not that you don’t enjoy collaboration, but it’s just like you’ve had a singular vision with so much of your work.”

Those different facets to Mackenzie and Julien provided a real window into the other’s world. The album required them to toe a fine line - on one hand, opening oneself to another’s ideas and seeing how that might transform a track by expanding it outwards. At the same time, it was crucial to chase their own instincts and see where that particular path brought them. Trusting themselves and each other were both vitally important.

“This was the first time that I’ve ever made a collaborative album with somebody,” Mackenzie acknowledges. “I typically keep the process pretty insular, from the writing stage through to the recording stage. I placed a lot of trust in you, Julien, my friend, and that trust paid off. In regards to what Julien said about the jam, that was an area where you were able to create a space for me to play a little bit more, and not be so stuck on ‘this is the part’. God damn, your ‘Sugar in The Tank’ guitar solo! Julien’s guitar all over the record is so spirited and so loose but so in the pocket. Being able to rip the guitar or rip a piano part just because it sounds good, and no other reason, just because it’s fun to play it - for me, that’s not something I’m used to.”

Across the album, the guitar lines unfurl luxuriously, wrapping you up in their warm tones. It’s an elevating force behind the album, allowing the room and the time to just bask in the comfort a good guitar solo can provide you. However, again, balance is key - spontaneity was just as vital as control.

“If there was ever a genre that accommodates ripping, country music is a bunch of shredders that have to show restraint for three and a half minutes of a song, and then they get their fifteen seconds to just really jam,” Julien laughs. “I’m challenged by something Mackenzie does really well in her music, which is show a lot of restraint and have a dedicated thoughtful part. I always have a hard time playing the same thing twice, exactly the same ever. Also, having something where there is a little bit of a traditional style and formula to build off of instead of creating a style or musical vernacular all our own is a project. We know what our influences are, and what we’re drawing from, and the ways to flip those are easier because we have a starting point or a blueprint.”

On ‘Send A Prayer My Way’, the two of them have taken that blueprint and pressed their stamp all over it - pristine in places, messy with smudged ink in others. They engage with the traditions of country, using it as a vessel to craft twelve tracks as formidable as they are vulnerable. That combination comes through lyrically, too. What starts with the two of them seemingly holding their breath on ‘Dirt’, the weight of life’s relentless pace heavy on their shoulders, quickly uncoils itself - over the course of those songs, there is a slow exhaling. It’s the kind of relief that can only come with letting go - of inhibitions, of the things that have stuck around causing grief, of fear. There are moments of pure devastation still - ‘Showdown’, for one, but it becomes increasingly apparent that the record’s journey is a spiral; they continue to come back to different moments and feelings that they can’t shake, but the deeper they think about them, the closer to that final breath out they get.

“This particular style of music, the classic narrative storytelling that historically country music has been a vessel for, is not something that I have really allowed myself to fully give myself to when I’m writing albums,” Mackenzie says. “Usually, I think ‘this would make a great country song’, and I can give a wink and a nod to country style without fully going there. Actually going there with this record and allowing myself the indulgence of writing - like ‘Tuesday’ is a long song, it’s a long story - allowing myself the self-indulgence to go there does allow for some closure on something that maybe I’ve alluded to on other songs in the past or something that I haven’t been fully able to articulate and close the book on. I think country music specifically is really good for that.”

‘Tuesday’ is an especially poignant moment on the album, with the lyric “with this exorcism, I put our story to bed” epitomising much of the record’s finer points - it seeks to lay those past lives to rest, to reflect and revisit the memory where regret and anger intertwine, but emerge on the other side with the strength to continue. ‘Tuesday’ is deeply sad and moving, and even more so for the anecdotal nature of the lyrics - the picture painted is vivid enough to step straight into it.

“I love that song so much,” Julien says. “It’s way more explicit than [Mackenzie’s] usual writing. About the narrative style… I was thinking about something that starts as an exercise in a genre becoming something really uniquely personal to your experience, drawing all of these themes that you have in your career as a rock musician. Yeah, it’s really explicit. I was thinking about a song like ‘Copperhead Road’ or ‘Goodbye Earl’, where they are literally say in the words ‘he is running moonshine’ — they spell it out for you. In my life, I find it hard to say what I mean, just because I care. I’m: A. Conflict avoidant and B. I care about being careful in how I express myself and take up space. This genre is so much about plain language. I think it is, historically, when you think of historical folk or bluegrass or country music, who it’s for is not the academic, intellectual, convoluted - it’s not trying to be put in layers of code, it’s spelling out something about the human experience in really plain terms. I think that helped me as a writer. There’s still a lot of euphemism in the songs I write; I think I could take even more of a page out of your book… but there’s still time for us to write more country music!”

Mackenzie chimes in in agreement: “A smart euphemism in country music is so much of what country is about. Comparing something to another thing and connecting them in front of people’s eyes… the ‘a-ha’ of it is so tied into the tradition. You do that so well.” “I love a fucking double entendre,” Julien confirms.

The simplicity and straightforwardness in the lyrics is definitely not what listeners have come to expect from Julien, but TORRES has always championed a stark honesty that hits hard. The bridge between upfront truths and, of course, a healthy dose of metaphors making an appearance anyway makes for a story that really unravels before your eyes. ‘Sugar in the Tank’ is an immediate example - it’s a clear expression of love, with little room for doubt, made all the more magical when delivered through magical harmonies and a warm banjo.

That clarity of word is crucial to the genre, and as Julien points out, country music is for the wider people. Often a genre associated with finding solace and resonance, it’s important to note that it does have an exclusionary streak, despite its roots being intrinsically accepting and welcoming. The country music environment ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ enters into is one that is quickly becoming more and more out of touch with its traditions - the record is, in many ways, an act of reclamation.

“I very unironically love the tradition of country music,” says Mackenzie. “The only thing that I don’t love about country music actually is what it’s become. How it has been used to be exclusionary, how it has been dominated for a certain number of years by cis white dudes when, in reality, country music was originated by Black people and people who weren’t cis white dudes.

“There’s so much that is fun about it, and so much that is comforting and home about it. Especially right now, with the way that the world looks and the way that so many people think right now, I don’t even need to spell out what that is. People have gotten ideas in their head about who should have rights and who shouldn’t, who should get to do what they want and who shouldn’t, who is above the law and who isn’t. For me, to make a country album with my friend as a gay, genderqueer, a fucking lesbian from the South who lives in New York - yes, on the one hand, I’m trying to bridge worlds. Bridging worlds is a really important thing to do right now, to show people that there’s a way to do that. But also, it’s a big fuck you to anyone who wants to gatekeep this genre. For anyone who wants to say no, you can’t make a country record because you’re gay, you’re a woman, you left the South, for any number of reasons, it’s like yeah, bitch, you don’t own country music. If that disturbs you, then wonderful, and if it comforts somebody who thought that maybe they weren’t allowed to like this kind of music, it’s like, guess what? You are. This is for you, too.”

That’s exactly what ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ does. With each track, the record offers something consoling and relieving to those who haven’t been privy to that from the genre in recent history. It’s revolutionary, and it’s joyous, and it’s something really special to behold from the two of them. There’s been a major shift in the genre of country, with the attitudes at its core becoming something unrecognisable. Julien and Mackenzie’s work returns to those origins.

“All of the country music I’m used to hearing is Waylon and Willie running moonshine, breaking the law and evading the cops,” explains Julien. “Doing things that are outside of what the state deems as lawful, that’s more of your own personal determination of right and wrong. I guess that could be a bit weirdly libertarian or ‘right to bear arms’, but the general distrust of the Big Man was a throughline in so much of the country music I remember listening to. Now, there’s a weird complicity with loving Trump and Elon Musk. When did that happen? It seems antithetical to all the traditions of country music I’m familiar with. They’ve successfully brainwashed you if you think that they care about you, the construction worker in Woodbury, Tennessee. I don’t know how to break it to you, but your community, which includes non-white, queer, trans people, is going to be infinitely more valuable, and infinitely more meaningful to you than ideological support of some weird, Nazi-ish, ubermensch that is pushing for technological progress at the cost of humanity.”

The country music that Julien and Mackenzie, both Southern natives from Tennessee and Georgia, respectively, grew up on was detached from what it has now become. The exploratory approach they took to ‘Send A Prayer My Way’, and the way this process allowed them to step outside of what is familiar and typical and really find a new joy in creating music in a new way is much more in line with what country is about. In the album’s runtime, Julien Baker and TORRES masterfully re-engage with that love for country and do so in a way that will undoubtedly empower others to reignite that passion, too.

“Country music is special in the way that it’s supposed to be accessible,” Julien concludes. “It’s just music, and people come and put all their own ideas onto it, but it’s like in a typical folk or bluegrass tradition, it’s not symphony. It’s not a $4000 cello that plays these instruments. It’s just a guitar that anyone can learn a couple of chords on. It’s an old standard that you can play in any old group of people, that families could play together. When I worked in AV services in college, on break, all the old country dudes just produce a mandolin from the back of their truck and are playing music as a pastime and a communication device because it’s not exclusionary. It’s for anyone who wants to participate in it. It’s incredibly meaningful. It’s a thesis statement of this whole project to just be an example - we’re not the only queer or trans people making music that has in the past decades excluded us. But to be a really vocal example of it, and do it well, and do it with a love of the genre and this embedded feel for what country music feels like - I think that’s important.” ■

Taken from the March 2025 issue of Dork. Julien Baker & TORRES’ album ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ is out 18th April.