Just the Two of Us

“When we met, it was like a light switch came on in me,” says Adam, seated next to his wife on the couch in their publicist’s living room. “We were eaten up with each other.”

At first the relationship was a purely musical one, but that didn’t last long. They married in 2002 and moved to Nashville, the city where Adam’s uncle, country superstar Alan Jackson, had found his fortune a decade before. Since then, they’ve lived together, written songs together, sung together, played together, recorded together, toured together and generally spent more time in one another’s company than is advisable for any married couple,

“Since the day we met, that’s what we’ve been doing,” says Shannon. “I don’t know how it works. It just does. It’s what we’re used to.”

“It’s not for everybody,” Adam admits.

Typically, such familiarity is death to artistic chemistry between a man and woman—there’s no sexual tension, no sense of the exciting unknown. Somehow, The Wrights have reversed this equation. Their intertwining voices gave off sparks on their 2005 debut album, Down This Road, while their often thorny songs about the ups and downs of romance avoided the cliché of a married couple slobbering over one another through endless devotional ballads.

“The tension is probably real,” Adam says with a chuckle. “She’s a passionate person, and I can be sort of stubborn, so maybe there’s a natural tension there. We may just take out all our anger musically.”

The Wrights have reason to be at least a little angry about the course their musical career has taken since their debut was released. The two had signed to Jackson’s ACR imprint (that’s Alan’s Country Records, y’all), and recorded Down This Road independently. Then the album was picked up for national distribution by the RCA arm of the Sony BMG empire and...well, let’s just say it didn’t set the cash registers of America ringing.

RCA wanted more of a say in the making of the planned follow-up, and the label began setting up Adam and Shannon with Music Row songwriters. So far, so good. “They did introduce us to a lot of great writers,” Shannon says. “That was a good experience for us.” Not least among them was veteran tunesmith Paul Kennerley, who co-wrote three tracks on The Wrights and produced two (the other six were handled by Keith Stegall and John Kelton). “I’ll sing anything that Paul Kennerley writes, ever,” Shannon declares. “It’s the coolest sounding stuff.”

The label also suggested some outside songs the duo might consider recording—and that’s where the trouble began. “We heard a lot of songs that sounded like hits,” Adam says. “But it was like somebody saying, ‘Oh, you should wear this. This would look good on you.’ You put it on, look in the mirror and feel like an idiot. Some of it was kind of like that.”

“There are some amazing writers in this town, way better than I could ever be,” Shannon says. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean that’s the kind of song I should sing, or that I can pull it off well.”

The push and pull between artists and label went on—and on, and on, and on. “With the whole major-label thing, you’ve got to get the approval of everybody under the sun,” Shannon says. “It was a long process, and different for us because we had always done everything on our own.”