Kelsea Ballerini Soars on ‘Rolling Up The Welcome Mat’
By: Sydney Hise
Kelsea Ballerini’s Rolling Up The Welcome Mat, a surprise release that dropped on Valentine’s Day, is a 6-song-EP that accompanies the short film bearing the same name. Throughout the film’s 20 minutes, Ballerini details her grief, acceptance, anger, and hurt tied to her divorce from her now ex-husband in a series of songs that become increasingly more raw and vulnerable.
Taking a page from early Taylor Swift, Ballerini writes in a way that feels like you ripped a page from her diary and are listening to her deepest, most personal thoughts––even if it is a thought as light-hearted as her debut single “Love Me Like You Mean It”.
“Mountain With A View” opens the EP with soft synth sounds and Ballerini’s airy, realization-drenched vocals. She sings, “I’m wearing the ring still, but I think I’m lyin,” in a way that almost breaks the listener’s heart. The emotional intensity builds as Ballerini comes to the conclusion that this relationship is over for her in more ways than one. Visually, in the film, she is alone at a table set with two places––four pieces of toast, two white plates. A foreshadowing to the lyrical content of the next track, she cleans up the two place settings herself and goes to put the dishes in the sink.
In the second track, “Just Married”, Ballerini chronicles the younger, more hopeful place she was in when she said “I do” and juxtaposes it against her current feelings of complacency and stagnancy: how they went from happily ‘just married’ to simply just married. The entire EP sounds gentle and delicate, a drastic contrast to the bittersweet lyrical content, and this song is the perfect example of that complex dichotomy. The foreshadowing in “Mountain With A View” comes to light as the male lead in the film suddenly appears and brings Ballerini, who is standing at the kitchen sink with the two plates she cleaned up before, two more plates to add to her already full hands. As she sings, “I wasn’t made for fixin’ a plate,” and “I wasn’t strong enough to keep on with all of the weight that I carried,” the lead continues to bring more and more plates until she physically cannot hold them anymore. Ultimately, they shatter on the ground––a beautiful visual metaphor for the intense emotional weight she could not stand to bear staying in her plateaued relationship.
For me personally, “Penthouse” hits the hardest. There is something in Ballerini’s voice that just makes you want to reach out and give her a hug. She describes the things she did to make the relationship make sense to her and you can hear the grief in her voice. She made all of the changes to her surroundings that she thought would solve their issues, and they were still just playing house. “Penthouse” also carries one of the biggest daggers on the record in the line “It stings rolling up the welcome mat knowing you got half,” an extremely powerful statement that leaves you sitting there with your mouth agape. The short film’s adaptation of this song is gorgeous, where you see Ballerini and the male lead slow dance in the living room, an intimate moment that should feel special, but feels vapid for her.
Moving through the stages of grief to anger, “Interlude” definitely packs a punch. The 46-second track almost feels like free-association for Ballerini. There is an intensity in her voice that doesn’t reside on the previous tracks, a vengeance that takes over and shows in both delivery and lyrical content. The most important (and most truthful) line on the EP is heard on this track: “Ain’t it like this town to only criticize a woman”. Poignant, deeply honest, and cutting, Ballerini is at her best here, both vocally and lyrically.
“Blindsided” looks back and asks the question: “Were you blindsided, or were you just blind?” Ballerini soars with her gentle vocals here. There is nothing flashy about it, but it showcases her pure talent flawlessly. “Blindsided”, however, is the only repetitive-feeling moment on the album. Lyrically, it says what it needs to and is powerful, but compositionally, it feels lackluster. That being said, “Blindsided” still holds perhaps the most heart wrenching moment on the album: its bridge. ‘”Like that one time in 2019, before that big show, we had a big fight, I slept on the couch and then the next night you put on your suit, I put on a smile and sang about how it's okay to cry, dying inside.” The descriptiveness and specificity adds vulnerability in a way that Ballerini has never done before.
As a conclusion, we find Ballerini on the floor of a suitcase-strewn, half-emptied closet, where she opens her guitar case and sings “Leave Me Again”. Over a picked guitar instrumental, Ballerini recites a list of things she hopes for her ex (he spends Christmas with his family, drives the Jeep with the top off), and ends every stanza with “And I hope I never leave me again”. This chapter is the acceptance, the want for something good to happen to the other person even when things don’t work out between you. There is something so uplifting and hopeful about this track, and it is the perfect ending to her grief-painted diary. It is simple, beautiful, and deeply moving, and is my personal favorite track on the record.
Even though I have never been even remotely close to being married or divorced, Kelsea Ballerini’s Rolling Up The Welcome Mat still hits home. There are strings of relatability in this work of art that can resonate with anyone who has ever had a romantic relationship. Feelings of complacency are simply human, but it takes bravery to admit that they are there. Ballerini’s bravery in both her public divorce and this body of work will inspire years of women to come, whether they are songwriters themselves, or simply see pieces of their lives in her music.