Margo Price has never been one to walk the line of perceived societal or corporate norms, rules, or expectations. She doesn’t tiptoe around controversy; she meets it head on. For years she has spoken plainly about reproductive rights (“Fight to Make It” and “Lydia”), gun control (see her essay “Sit Beside Me in the Darkness”), gender inequality (“Pay Gap”), and sexism (“Stone Me”).
Price is no less outspoken on her latest album, Hard Headed Woman. The record finds her taking aim at the music industry’s pervasive greed on “Don’t Let The Bastards Get You Down,” while doubling down on her refusal to be reshaped or repackaged with a rousing take on George Jones’ “I Just Don’t Give A Damn.” More than a collection of songs, the album is a declaration of autonomy.
Her live show carries that same spirit. At her recent stop in Chicago, Price didn’t hedge or soften her stance. She skewered Trump with Blaze Foley’s “Oval Room,” pushed back against exploitation and control with Dylan’s “Maggie’s Farm,” and then turned the room into a celebration of unity with the Spanish folk standard “De Colores.” These weren’t throwaway covers; they were statements. And the packed Chicago crowd roared its approval.
That response matters. In an era when artists are often told to “stick to the music,” Price insists that the music is the message. Just as importantly, her audience seems to understand that. The cheers weren’t polite applause; they were affirmations. A communal acknowledgment that art can still challenge, provoke, and unite.
The bulk of the night drew from Hard Headed Woman: “Wild at Heart,” “Red Eye Flight,” “Don’t Wake Me Up,” “Close to You,” “Love Me Like You Used To Do,” “I Just Don’t Give A Damn,” “Keep A Picture,” “Prelude (Hard Headed Woman),” “Don’t Let The Bastards Get You Down,” and “Kissing You Goodbye.” For most artists, a setlist packed with new material is a gamble. In Chicago, it felt like a reward.
That’s because Hard Headed Woman is an honest, unflinching collection of songs that only Price could deliver. As with her four previous albums, she writes and sings from experience — whether confronting heartache, celebrating joy, or calling out injustice. When she sings, you believe her. Not because she demands it, but because she’s lived it.
And that’s what makes her shows so vital. They’re more than performances. They’re more than commentary. They’re communal experiences built on shared conviction. And if that’s not for you, well, Margo Price doesn’t give a damn.
