Amanda Williams

Amanda Williams was born to be a songwriter. It’s in her blood. She comes from a long line of musicians and writers, most notably her songwriting father, Kim Williams (“Three Wooden Crosses,” “Ain’t Going Down ‘Til The Sun Comes Up”). Being able to sit at the feet of a master songwriter from an early age infused Williams with an innate sense of the craft of songwriting.  

She listened and learned from her dad and as her skill developed she began co-writing with him. They teamed up (along with several other writers) to pen the George Jones/Garth Brooks hit “Beer Run.” 

That song opened the door to the Nashville publishing community, but it also presented a problem. Williams didn’t want to be pigeonholed as a strictly country writer.  

“All my life I’ve heard that if you’re a country writer, you can’t write rock and if you’re a rock writer you can’t write country,” she says. “But sometimes it just happens. I understand the need for musical genres, but sometimes we get so bogged down in classifying music that we can’t just let the music be itself.” 

Williams found a kindred spirit in Magic Mustang Music, the publishing branch of Broken Bow Records. The company recognized the beauty and raw power in her songs and signed her to a publishing deal in 2005.   

After signing her deal she began pushing herself to write songs that were real, letting them flow out in whatever context seemed appropriate. She gained a sense of freedom as she strived to make her songs ever more truthful. 

Williams developed her own genre-busting style that had only one primary purpose—to connect with her audience. 

“Music reaches out and touches people in ways that make them feel like they’re not alone,” she says. “We isolate ourselves. We put ourselves in little cubicles and cars and living rooms. We shut out everything. Music breaks through those boundaries.” 

The hardest part of breaking down walls and opening doors is having something meaningful to say once that connection is made. An ability to do that transforms good songwriters into great ones. 

“I love songwriters who are trying to say something real,” says Williams. “One thing my father ingrained in me was that if a song doesn’t make you want to laugh, dance or cry then it’s not doing its job.” 

She learned that lesson well. Her songs have the emotional depth and lyrical subtlety of poetry. That’s intentional because Williams believes great songs and great poems both tap into universal themes.    

“Poetry is a symbolic way of communicating. A poem is timeless,” she says. “So is a good song if it’s done right.”

And there is a timeless quality to her writing. Whether she’s rocking out or singing a melancholy pop ballad, Williams cuts through the surface layers with the precision of a surgeon and reveals the beating heart of a song. And it’s not just her words that cut through; she’s blessed with a voice that’s spine-tingling good. She slips from bluegrass twang to soft croon to a full-throated rock roar with ease. Like her songwriting, her singing adapts to the song. 

“Being a songwriter has helped me so much as a singer,” she says. “I’ve learned how to get inside the song and sing from the perspective of the person in the song.” 

Though she’s an outstanding singer, Williams is first and foremost a songwriter. Singing is a platform to take her songs to a wider audience. That’s something that’s important to her.  

“I’m compelled to communicate,” she says. “I want to bring people together through my music. This is what I was put here to do.” 

She was born to write songs and so she does. She writes songs that stick in your head and transform your heart. She writes songs that knock down walls and refuse to be defined. Her songs build bridges and make connections. Her songs make a difference.  

And so does Amanda Williams.