Andrew Adkins has never been one to color inside the lines. A veteran Nashville songwriter with over a decade of stage and studio experience, he’s fronted bands (Mellow Down Easy, Lions For Real), toured coast to coast, and shared bills with names as varied as Cage the Elephant, Sturgill Simpson, and Lainey Wilson. His songs have slipped their way into homes via Netflix, Hulu, and MTV. But with his new solo record Superior Vena Cava—out September 12—Adkins isn’t simply returning to the conversation. He’s redefining it on his own uncompromising terms.
The album arrives after a period of seismic change. “Since my last album (Rattlesnake Motions), I have been through so much; I lost both parents, got clean and sober, lost my dog of 16 years, stopped touring and playing live shows, scored some TV shows, and contemplated walking away from all of this,” Adkins shares. “I am not the same person I was three years ago. Writing and recording this album kept me from losing my mind and not going off the deep end.”
That sense of survival reverberates across Superior Vena Cava. The record is fluid by design, weaving through psychedelia, roots-heavy folk-rock, and synth-driven experimental landscapes. It resists categories in favor of authenticity—an ethos Adkins makes no apologies for. “Brackets, boundaries, and genres; I hate all of those things,” he says. “Do you think I am going to let those three things determine what I choose to listen to or how to express myself? Fuck. No. Music is music, and art is art.”
It’s a statement album, not in the political sense, but in the personal one. Adkins wrote, produced, and performed all 11 songs himself in his East Nashville home studio. That autonomy isn’t about ego—it’s about survival and efficiency. “I’ve always considered the guitar my first love. I’m not a singer. I’m a guitar player who sings,” he admits. “The only reason I even play other instruments or sing is out of convenience. It’s so much easier to do it all myself than depend on others. The older and more secluded I become, autonomy just seems like the best choice.”
And yet, despite the solitary creation, there’s nothing insular about these songs. Superior Vena Cava feels expansive, pulling from the traditions of American folk and rock while bending into kaleidoscopic soundscapes that flirt with the experimental. It’s not an easy record to pin down—which is exactly the point. “Whenever I meet someone who says, ‘I love all music, but rap,’ or ‘I listen to a little of everything, but country.’ I do not want to be in that conversation anymore,” Adkins insists. “They cannot be trusted. I love all art, I love all animals, and I trust very few people.”
That refusal to cater to expectation is precisely what gives Superior Vena Cava its edge. It’s a document of grief and recovery, of wrestling with identity and finding freedom in the mess of it all. Adkins doesn’t sugarcoat his journey, but he doesn’t wallow either—he translates it into songs that feel both deeply personal and strangely universal.
“I am still amazed that people connect to my music,” he says. “To know that others gladly embrace my weird, quirky sound and odd voice never ceases to fascinate me. I never take that for granted.”
In the end, Superior Vena Cava isn’t just another album in Adkins’ catalog. It’s proof of life after loss, art as survival, and the beauty of refusing to fit inside a box. It’s messy, raw, genre-fluid, and honest to the core. In other words, it’s Andrew Adkins at his most essential.
