Justin Townes Earle, 1982-2020

On Sunday, Aug. 24, news made its way through the music community that singer-songwriter Justin Townes Earle had died at the age of 38. His sudden death broke the hearts of music fans worldwide, but it seems fair to say that the epicenter of this collective grief is Earle's own hometown, Nashville. The son of living legend Steve Earle, the younger Earle was also a son of Nashville, one whose legacy will forever be woven into the fabric of the city's rich musical history. 

Following the dissolution of his acoustic band The Swindlers, Earle made his solo debut in 2007 with Yuma, a six-song EP of plainspoken blues and folk songs written with hard-earned wisdom and performed with an abundance of heart. He would shortly follow Yuma with the full-length The Good Life, an instant classic that no doubt influenced the white-hot Americana and roots scenes that currently dominate much of Nashville's musical output. The Good Life would be the first of eight full-length albums, including 2019's The Saint of Lost Causes, his final official release. 

As Earle's profile grew, so too did that of his home city — a complicated phenomenon he lamented in the title track of his 2017 album Kids in the Street. "From Wedgewood to Granny White / Oh, and Belmont to Eighth / All these songs was broke into a host of sights and shapes," Earle sings. "I feel like I miss it most / Just ’cause I never thought that it could change." 

In many ways, Earle's legacy points to the idea of "Old Nashville," a perhaps overused (and certainly disputed) term that laments the city's long-gone scrappier days. These were times when the original Sutler was still operating — in addition to places like Springwater, Earle performed at The Sutler regularly before the venue shuttered in 2005 — and woo-ing bachelorettes hadn't made the city into their mimosa-drenched Instagram playground.

Though Earle spent several years of his career living outside of Nashville, even in his absence he seemed to embody the collaborative, close-knit spirit that makes the local music community so special. In the wake of his passing, fellow artists far and wide, like Caitlin Rose and Andrew Combs, shared appreciations and stories of kindnesses Earle had shown them on the road, in the studio or simply as a friend.

Earle was always open about his struggle with substance abuse, which began in his childhood and was a recurring difficulty throughout the rest of his life. Sobriety and substance abuse play key roles in Earle's art. He neither glorifies nor moralizes about drug use, instead opting for a vulnerable kind of middle-path realism rarely heard in popular music. On 2010's "Harlem River Blues," one of his best-loved songs, Earle considers the possibility of redemption not as a guaranteed reward for reformed behavior but as an ever-shrinking window one must fight to fit through. As he sings: "I'm on a roll, mama, I gotta go / Gotta get there while I still can / Troubled days are behind me now / And I know they're gonna let me in."

While a cause of death hasn’t been confirmed by Earle’s family or representatives, outlets including Rolling Stone Country report that the Nashville Metro Police Department believes Earle died from a "probable drug overdose." According to police, Earle was found dead in his Nashville apartment during a welfare check called in by a close friend.

Earle is survived by his wife Jenn Marie Earle, daughter Etta St. James Earle, mother Carol-Ann Hunter, father Steve Earle and brothers Ian Earle and John Henry Earle. The family plans to hold a memorial in 2021.