Standing in the dust of Harris Park during a humid July night in London, you can feel the shift in the air. This isn't just another summer circuit stop for a Nashville export. Old Dominion has moved past the "promising act" phase and into the territory of genuine headliners. They arrived at BX93 Country Night at Start.ca Rocks The Park on Wednesday, July 10, carrying the weight of 10 hit singles and the momentum of their second worldwide headlining run. It was their second time through Southwestern Ontario in as many months, following a slicker, neon-soaked date at Caesars Windsor in June.
But the polish of their live show hides a band that is currently grappling with a creative growth spurt. They are no longer just the guys who write hooks for Kenny Chesney. With a third album slated for the autumn, frontman Matthew Ramsey seems to be leaning into a more jagged, honest version of the band.
The pivot started with "Some People Do," a track that feels less like a radio play and more like a confession. It is a stark departure from the breezy, "Snapback" energy of their early days. When I caught up with Ramsey, he admitted the song’s raw nerves weren't part of some grand marketing scheme. It was an accident of timing and a stray comment.
"I mean, that was pretty much it. We kind of fell on that title that day by accident. It was actually the second song we wrote that day. I was getting ready to leave and I said, 'Some people do,' just in my regular conversation, I forget what we were even talking about, and Thomas Rhett said that’s actually a cool title, Some People Do. And he started playing the piano, and then we just started basically apologizing in song form. And it became very emotional, and I think a lot of people were finding out, have been to that point in their life where they realize, things can still happen."
This emotional transparency is the new currency for the band. In a genre often criticized for its rigid adherence to trucks and beer, Old Dominion is trying to dismantle their own walls. It’s a risky move when you’ve already built a massive fan base on "feel-good" vibes. But the audience is biting.
"I think that it wasn’t a conscious choice, really," Ramsey says. "It’s just how we are evolving as writers and artists, and maybe we’re feeling a little more comfortable, taking down a few walls as people, and sharing that with our audience, and the more we do that, I think we get positive responses from that, and so we’re willing to do it a little bit more just naturally its just coming to us that way."
The technical evolution of the band is equally striking. Their sophomore effort, *Happy Ending*, was a rush job—a product of the "strike while the iron is hot" mentality that defines modern Nashville. It worked, but it lacked the deliberate texture of their newer material. For this upcoming record, they traded speed for precision.
"I think, the thing that probably did the most is that we took our time. I think the second album was made very fast. That album was made, did a couple of overdubs and things but for the most part that album was made in four days. And with this one, we took our time in the studio and the first session that we went in for, we didn’t even have any songs that we wanted to record. So that’s when we wrote Make It Sweet at the studio. And so that just sort of set the tone. I was like let’s take our time, let’s be very deliberate about every sound that we make and every lyric that we put out there, so we are very proud of the final product."
And then there is "One Man Band." It’s currently tearing up the Canadian charts, and for good reason. It’s a clever bit of wordplay that avoids the typical clichés of the road. Most "touring" songs are about the loneliness of the hotel room, but this one treats the band dynamic as a metaphor for romantic commitment.
"That one is doing pretty good for us. That was another title that just kind of came out of somebody’s mouth, somebody... a radio person was on the bus and they said something about a one man band, and when they left, I looked at Brad and said we need to write One Man Band. And he said, 'What?' I said, 'Yeah, like a love song, like you don’t wanna be, I don’t want to be alone. Later that night, we were actually on stage getting ready to go on and our intro is playing and everything and we were singing it into our phones while we were supposed to be walking out on the stage. Thomas said we better get on stage, and then we finished it later on the road with our friend Josh Osborne, who came out on the road with us, so we finished it later with him."
But let’s talk about the hotel trashing lyric. It’s a bit of a reach. Old Dominion are many things—talented, melodic, hardworking—but they aren't exactly Mötley Crüe. The lyric feels like a forced nod to rock rebellion that doesn't quite fit their clean-cut, professional aesthetic. Ramsey is the first to admit they aren't exactly tossing television sets into the pool.
It's a fun job, but it's also hard and there are a lot of decisions and a lot of pressure and it would be really hard to be alone doing all of that. At least we have each other to bounce ideas off of and to check each other's egos and to do things like that. So, we always say that we can't imagine what it's like to be a solo artist out there doing this. We would not want to be in that boat. We would rather be in it together.
"No, we have not. It’s funny, I was talking about that the other day with somebody and they brought that up and I think that is more of a reference on the band side of things. There are two sides to that. That on the band side of things, it’s like a rock and roll cliché type of, getting drunk, throwing the TV out the window type of thing. And then on the love side perspective, it was more of a sexual reference of tearing up the bed in a hotel room."
The "One Man Band" concept isn't just a lyrical hook for Ramsey; it’s a lifestyle choice. In an era where every lead singer eventually eyes a solo career, the members of Old Dominion seem genuinely terrified of the prospect of being alone on stage. They use each other as a buffer against the ego-distorting effects of fame.
"We’ve talked about that a lot with each other as a band. It’s a fun job, but it’s also hard and there are a lot of decisions and a lot of pressure and it would be really hard to be alone doing all of that. At least we have each other to bounce ideas off of and to check each other’s egos and to do things like that. So, we always say that we can’t imagine what it’s like to be a solo artist out there doing this. We would not want to be in that boat. We would rather be in it together."
The band is clearly itching to get the new music into the hands of the fans. Two years since *Happy Ending* feels like a decade in the current streaming economy. "Yes, we are ready for it to come out. We’d put it out tomorrow if we could," Ramsey says.
And while it looks like a meteoric rise from the outside, the reality is much grittier. They didn't just appear on the charts. They spent nearly a decade playing to empty rooms in dive bars before the radio finally caught on. That history of failure is what gives them their current stability.
"No, not at all. Because we’ve been a band for almost 13 years now. So, we’ve been working at this for a very long time. Really the last four years have been very successful, but it took quite a long time for us to get to that point. So, we recognized that once a song got on the radio, it really did pave a big way for us really fast as we achieved a lot in those four years. But, the time leading up to that, we certainly played to no one, for longer than we played to an audience."
Success brings its own set of problems, primarily the brutal separation from family. Modern technology helps, but FaceTime is a poor substitute for being home.
"It’s difficult, obviously, but luckily with modern technology there is FaceTime and things like that. We try to bring out families as much as we can, so it’s not the easiest and definitely not our favourite part of the job, but we try to make it work."
Even during the summer, when the touring schedule is at its most intense, the logistics of bringing kids on the road are a nightmare. They are no longer toddlers who can be tucked into a bunk; they are people with their own schedules and social lives.
"Some, not a lot though. We have kids and they are getting to the point where they have their own lives and their own circle of friends that they want to do things with... every once in a while we can bring them out for a week or so."
Ramsey keeps a tight lid on where the performer ends and the father begins. He isn't interested in the total transparency that some stars offer on social media. There is a private version of Matthew Ramsey that the London crowd will never see.
"Sure, in some ways, yes, and in some ways, no. They sort of blend together. There’s parts of me as a father and family man that I’m not willing to share with the audience, because that’s private and I want to hold on to that. But, there’s probably parts of me on stage that are exaggerated, but they’re still all parts of me and I don’t think if an audience would see the private side of me they would be surprised and I don’t think my family is surprised by anything I do on stage. So mostly it’s just a matter of what I decide to share or not."
Despite the band's massive success, they haven't stopped writing for the rest of Nashville. Ramsey and his bandmates are still the go-to guys for a number one hit. Just recently, they landed a chart-topper for Michael Ray.
"No, we all still write for others occasionally. We get lucky. We just had a hit on Michael Ray, his latest song that went to number one, The One That Got Away, was the song that Trevor and I wrote. And I’ve actually got a couple of irons in the fire now. I’m sure the other guys do too. We’re still writing songs and some of them land with other artists and some of them land with us."
One song that bridges the gap between their songwriting past and their performing present is "Save It For A Rainy Day." It was a massive hit for Kenny Chesney, but it has become a staple of Old Dominion's own set. It’s a song that defines their relationship with Chesney, who acted as a mentor during their early years.
"I’d say, it’s a pretty good chance, yeah, it’s a song that we love playing. It never had a chance to be an Old Dominion song, but it is such a part of our story and Kenny is such a part of our story because we toured with him for three years. He was a great mentor for us and a great friend to us. That song rose to the top of the charts while we were on tour with him and we’d go out and sing it with him. So it felt like our song and his song all at the same time. But I think that a big reason why that stuck with us and it’s a big part of our live show."
The story of that song’s creation is a reminder of the late Andrew Dorff, a frequent collaborator whose death still hangs over the Nashville writing community. It was written in a 45-minute burst of morning energy.
"That song was me and Brad and our late friend, Andrew Dorff, who has since passed away. We wrote it at 9:00 in the morning. Sometimes we would schedule two writes back in the day. With Andrew, we would always write at nine in the morning, just until our second write, which would start at 11:00am. So we easily use that time to kind of finish up a song we haven’t completed or start a new idea. And that morning, I got that idea for that song, just as I was headed to write. I just sort of showed up and I said, 'Hey, check this out.' And I sang the first part of the chorus to them and they were like, 'Oh, man. That’s great!' And then we finished that song in about 45 minutes. It was really fast; we just kind of spit that one out. And, it was like, 'Wow, that was cool!'"
The final push for that song to reach Chesney was a matter of persistent nagging. It’s a rare look into the mechanics of how a hit actually happens—sometimes it just takes a demo and a phone call.
"At that time, Brad used to make little homemade demos and I kept telling him, 'Man, this sounds like a Kenny Chesney song. You should make a demo for it.' He kept putting it off and putting it off. And then finally one day I said, 'Dude, do you want to send Kenny Chesney that or not?' And he’s like, 'Okay, okay. I’ll make one.' So he made one and it never happens that way. It happened so perfectly and I sent it on. I had never really met Kenny at that point. The next thing I know I get a phone call saying, 'Hey, Kenny Chesney is going to call you.' And he called and we talked about the song. We changed a few lines to make it fit him a little bit more and the next thing you know it’s a big hit.
