Maren Morris has always defied expectations -- and on her new album Dreamsicle, she does it again, with the kind of radical vulnerability that turns endings into beginnings. If the record had one unifying flavor, it might be lemonade: tart and sweet, nostalgic and fresh. The singer-songwriter's fourth album is a fearless exploration of heartbreak, healing, and the strange beauty of letting go. But rather than linger in grief, Dreamsicle is infused with warmth, wit, and hard-won optimism -- a sonic balm for anyone learning to live with both joy and pain in the same breath.
"The message that rang clear in titling this project Dreamsicle was about all of these fleeting things that I thought were very permanent in my life melting away," Morris explains. "It's about remembering that it's okay that they end. That can either be something you deflect or avoid, or you can find peace with. It felt like a sweet way to address something heavy and is a reminder not to mourn things before they're over - to look back at things with love and light, and not regret."
In the wake of seismic personal shifts, writing and recording Dreamsicle became a lifeline. Collaborating with an eclectic lineup of producers -- including Greg Kurstin, Jack Antonoff, Joel Little, Naomi McPherson of MUNA, and the Monsters & Strangerz -- Morris rediscovered herself through sound and songwriting. The result is a genre-fluid, emotionally rich collection that finds her in rare and radiant form.
The Kurstin-produced lead single, "carry me through," is a stripped-back ballad laced with gospel and soul -- a poignant reintroduction and a quiet revelation. "It was very therapeutic creating that song," Morris says. "It was actually written before the big storm of changes in my life. Maybe it was my subconscious talking, but I came back to it later and it felt like this was the perfect moment to release it. This song is a little bit like an exhale. It brings me peace listening back to it, and I hope it will for other people too."
"bed no breakfast" completes the one-two punch showcasing two of Maren's saving graces in creating this album - vulnerability, and humor. The song is a cheeky, R&B-kissed anthem about dipping a toe back into dating -- and setting boundaries with a grin. "It's a nice way of saying, 'You can stay for a couple of hours, but won't you sleep better at your place?'" she laughs. "Reminding myself that I'm allowed to be funny has been a good tonic."
Elsewhere, Morris ventures into new sonic terrain with "holy smoke," a sweeping, string-laced closer that she likens lyrically to R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion." On "cry in the car," produced by McPherson, she veers into bold, synth-driven territory, reinforcing the sense that Dreamsicle is both a sonic and spiritual evolution. Each track stands on its own, yet the album's message remains consistent, cohesive, and unmistakably hers.
Dreamsicle isn't just about heartbreak; it's about transformation, growth, and finding beauty in what's left behind. "Loss ultimately shines a light on parts of your life that open up after something like that happens to you," Morris reflects. Rather than clinging to the past, she's making room for joy. "It's been a heavy few years for me -- and for the world -- and I want to keep laughing. I don't want to hold onto things so tightly that I end up sacrificing my own happiness and not even realizing that I'm living my dream."
With Dreamsicle, Maren Morris turns the page -- embracing the messy, beautiful process of healing and rebuilding. As the hurt drips away and a new chapter takes shape, her voice feels lighter, wiser, and sweeter than ever.
