Morgan Myles doesn’t just sing songs. She breathes through them, bleeds through them, and sometimes — if you're lucky — she lets you inside. In a wide-ranging and heartfelt interview with Press Play Radio, the Nashville powerhouse opens up about everything from family, faith, and her viral run on The Voice, to heartbreak, healing, and the soul-cleansing power of letting it all out on stage.

From the moment the cameras roll, it’s clear this isn’t just another promo stop. Myles is warm, funny, sharp, and real — a woman who wears her heart like a badge of honor, even if it’s still mending. When she jumps on screen with Press Play hosts The Don, and Tina, her charisma immediately radiates — but it’s when her dad pops in for a surprise cameo that the warmth of her world becomes undeniable. “He goes on the road with me everywhere,” she says with a laugh, “like he’s part of my brand or something.”

That sense of family, of loyalty, and deep roots runs through everything she does — most notably in the performance that put her on the map: Hallelujah on The Voice. It was a bold choice, as John Legend himself pointed out when he said it took “cojones” to take on Leonard Cohen’s spiritual behemoth. But Myles knew exactly what she was doing. For her, the song wasn’t a vocal showpiece — it was an emotional purge. “The only way you can deliver that with conviction,” she says, “is if you’ve experienced pain. Real pain. That song takes different shapes throughout your life. It meets you wherever you are.”

For her, that performance was do-or-die. After 17 years grinding in Nashville, enduring loss, rejection, and more “almosts” than anyone should have to, Myles needed a sign. “If those chairs didn’t turn,” she admits, “I was done.” The universe responded — fast. Within five seconds, Camila Cabello and Gwen Stefani had spun their chairs. Then John. Then Blake. Morgan became the fastest four-chair turn in Voice history. “I was just staring at the light,” she says. “I wasn’t singing to them — I was singing to my purpose.”

But her story doesn’t end with the show. In fact, the next chapter may be the most compelling yet. In 2023, just months before this interview, Morgan ended her engagement — and she didn’t just walk away. She walked through fire. Her newest single, “Weight of Your Words,” is the result. Written the day she said “enough is enough,” and co-crafted with songwriting veterans Rebecca Lynn Howard and Rachel Thibodeau, the track is a battle cry wrapped in soul-rock catharsis. “He weaponized my vulnerability,” she says, “used my own words against me. That’s where the song came from.”

It’s a breakup anthem — but not in the usual “woe is me” sense. It's scorched earth empowerment. “Every line in that song is something he actually said to me,” Morgan explains. “But it’s not a bitter song — it puts the power back into the hands of the one who’s been hurt.”

That honesty carried over into her shows. The night she broke off the engagement — just an hour before stepping on stage — she told the crowd. “It’s just me and a guitar tonight,” she said. “Help me through this.” What followed was an evening of connection and collective release. One woman opened up about surviving domestic abuse. Another man shared that he hadn’t seen live music in 14 years. Morgan, in turn, made up choruses on the spot based on lines submitted by the audience — proof that when you bleed honestly, people bleed back.

She also talks about Therapy, a gospel-tinged track released in 2020 that Press Play's hosts rightly call one of her most spine-tingling performances ever. Ironically, the music video for it only came to be because she was denied a gig in Vermont over vaccination policies. “We turned lemons into lemonade,” she says. “I had a videographer with me, so we shot in the theater and just made the best of it.”

Whether she’s navigating heartbreak, connecting with strangers in a small town crowd, or dueting with legends like Vince Gill at the Ryman, Myles never loses her center. She’s unafraid to get raw, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

From Mariah Carey and Amy Grant to Muscle Shoals and The Grand Ole Opry, her influences are as eclectic as they are spiritual. And when she laughs with the Press Play team about Janet Jackson choreography or quips about needing a chiropractor from hauling gear, you see the full picture: a woman who is grounded, grateful, and not even close to done.

“This is my healing,” she says. “And by sharing it, I’m building community with people who need it too. That’s what it’s all about.”

Yes, she can belt. Yes, she can write. Yes, she’s a total pro. But more than anything, Morgan Myles is the real deal — a voice of resilience for anyone who's ever had to rebuild from the ashes of “I do not.”

She didn’t win The Voice. But she’s winning something bigger.

For more information on Morgan Myles, including tour dates, new music, and merch, visit www.morganmyleslive.com and follow her on social media @morganmyleslive. You can also stream her latest single “Weight of Your Words” wherever you listen to music. And trust us—this one hits.

It’s not every day you sit across the virtual table from a man whose voice once soundtracked your first kiss, your summer road trip, or that awkward high school dance. But when Don Barnes of 38 Special drops into the Press Play Conversations Zoom room, flanked by Press Play CEO Tina and SiriusXM’s Dean Baldwin, it’s more than just another legacy interview. It’s a masterclass in American songwriting, perseverance, and what happens when you’ve still got fire in the tank 50 years into the game.

Barnes, affable and sharp as ever, settles into the discussion with his signature Southern ease—part statesman, part story-weaver. The conversation kicks off with a tribute to a longtime collaborator: Jim Peterik, the Survivor mastermind and co-writer of “Hold On Loosely.” What started as a random co-writing session decades ago turned into a songwriting marriage that would yield hits like “Caught Up in You” and “Fantasy Girl.”

Barnes remembers the moment “Hold On Loosely” was born like it happened yesterday. “I was going through a relationship that was going south,” he admits. “And I said to Jim, ‘What is it about people trying to change each other?’ Then I tossed out, ‘Hold on loosely?’ And he fired back, ‘But don’t let go.’” The rest, as they say, is Southern rock history.

As Tina jumps in, she adds that she’s used that song as relationship advice for each of her kids. Barnes nods. “It’s true. You love too much, you smother someone. People come up to me and say that song saved their marriage. I’m like—really? We were just trying to get on the radio.”

But 38 Special did more than get on the radio. They owned it. Dean, a human jukebox of rock history, offers a truth that’s often overlooked in retrospectives: 38 Special were the band that brought Southern rock to the mainstream, showing country how to lean into rock riffs without losing its roots. “Southern bands were singing about whiskey and gators,” Barnes jokes. “We were chasing the hook, man. I wanted songs that lifted.”

And lifted they did. “Rockin’ Into the Night” might’ve been handed off by Survivor, but Barnes and company turned it into a declaration. Then came the anthems—“Hold On Loosely,” “Caught Up in You,” “If I’d Been the One”—each track delivered with tight arrangements, radio-friendly hooks, and a working-class grit that felt both polished and lived-in.

Talk turns to Milestone, the band’s new album that celebrates 50 years of 38 Special. It's not just a look back—it’s a push forward. “We didn’t want this to be a nostalgia trip,” Barnes says. “We wanted to show we could still hang in 2025.” The result is an album that nods to the past while refusing to live in it. Take “Slightly Controversial,” a grinding, hook-laden duet with Train’s Pat Monahan that’s pulled in a whole new generation of fans aged 20 to 35. “That song hit a nerve,” Barnes explains. “Pat came in and crushed it. And the phrase? Never used in a song before. It just sang well.”

Another standout, “All I Haven’t Said,” may be one of Barnes’ most personal to date. Co-written with his wife Christine, the ballad aches with mature love—the kind that lingers after years of silence, routine, and unspoken devotion. “She gave me the title,” Barnes says, still in awe. “And then the line: I would write it across the sky how I loved you. It just poured out from there. That’s my diamond.”

Even the album’s roots trace back decades. Barnes dishes on his shelved solo album from 1989, recorded with members of Toto and meant to break him out in a new light. A label sale shelved it—until a fan in Australia helped him resurrect it decades later. “It finally got released in 2017. We toasted champagne. It was worth the wait.”

For a guy who helped shape the FM rock dial, Barnes remains grounded. He’s passionate about honoring the band’s past, but even more excited about its future. “We’re adding two new songs to the setlist already. More are coming.” As for touring, the band still plays over 100 dates a year. “We’re road warriors,” Barnes says. “Always have been. The crew is family. The band is family. And after all these years—we still like each other. That’s rare.”

So what keeps the fire burning?

“The hook,” Barnes answers, without missing a beat. “I’ve always been about the hook. That’s the thing that sticks. That’s what makes people feel something.”

And as the conversation winds down, it’s clear Don Barnes still has plenty left to say—and even more left to play.

Want to hear more from 38 Special?

There’s a particular kind of storm that brews when someone refuses to stay in their lane. Bec Lauder is that storm — magnetic, unapologetically genreless, and fronting The Noise with an edge that says get in or get out of the way. Joining Press Play Radio’s Don and Tina from One Wall Street in NYC, fresh off an event and already in full rockstar glow, Lauder gave a first-time radio interview that felt anything but rookie.

Her track “Nobody Cares” played like a battle cry — funky, cool, with the right amount of sass and swagger — and it had Tina gushing comparisons like Blondie meets Joan Jett. Bec, gracious but locked-in, confirmed what we suspected: she’s not trying to fit in. She’s trying to shake it up.

The album Vessel, due out September 12, is a melting pot of sonic obsessions — gritty rock, funk, weird pop. “Originally, I recorded 12 songs that were all over the place,” Bec admitted. “So I sorted everything on a big sheet of paper, from softest to hardest, folkiest to funkiest. I literally drew lines down the middle.” What emerged was a record that centers on her rawest, loudest, and most authentic self. “The stuff we’ve released is the poppier entry point. But there’s way weirder shit on this album — and I can’t wait for people to hear it.”

The band's formation is equally unfiltered. Bec didn’t come to New York to make music — she came to model. But one shared house with a bunch of musicians later, she found herself writing and playing daily. From those humble, slightly chaotic beginnings came The Noise, her now all-female trio that she calls “the best thing that ever happened.” “We’re three girls doing everything ourselves now — writing, producing, performing. It’s insane. It’s magical.”

That sense of DIY synchronicity extends to her visuals too. Bec’s music videos are kinetic, stylish, and choreographed by Sophie — a dancer she basically scouted off Instagram. “She’d never choreographed a music video, but I loved how she moved. So I asked her to do ‘Forgive It.’ Then we did ‘Nobody Cares.’ Now she’s a friend. But first, I was just a fan.”

Tina and Don dove into Song Story territory next — a Press Play staple — and Bec’s answers were as sweet as they were surprising. First concert? Blake Shelton, with tickets she bought for her mom. First musical obsession? Crazy by Aerosmith. “That song changed my life. I was 11, and I ran upstairs to look up Aerosmith — and that’s when I fell in love with rock and roll. Steven Tyler is everything to me. I think I’m like the girl version of him, honestly.”

She even dropped a few bars of “Crazy” mid-interview — part raspy rock goddess, part glam-fueled Broadway — leaving Don speechless and practically begging for a live session. “You’ve got the model look,” he said. “But you’ve got the music — and you’re playing the long game.”

And she is. Bec’s fully aware of how she’s perceived — too polished, too bold, too many “is she really rock and roll?” whispers. But it doesn’t faze her. “The fact that I’m doing exactly what I want, my way, is rock and roll,” she declared. “And I love it when we get in the rehearsal studio. That’s my favorite part of the day. I know we’re onto something.”

She’s got one album dropping, two more mapped out, and a master plan that includes pool parties, fashion stunts, and surprises that sound like Skyfall meets Daft Punk. Yes, really. Her creative energy is constant — a channeling she attributes to anxiety, pressure, and pure necessity. “I just have to create. It’s not a choice,” she said. “My biggest fear is being misunderstood. So every note, every lyric — it’s me finding a way to be seen.”

That’s also the title of one of the album’s most emotional tracks, “Find a Way,” which was born during a moment of healing between Bec and her guitarist. “We wrote it together and she cried,” she said. “It reminded her why she loves music. That was everything.”

In a world obsessed with labels and lanes, Bec Lauder isn’t choosing one. She’s choosing all of them. Loudly. Authentically. Unapologetically.

🎤 Bec Lauder & The Noise’s debut album Vessel drops September 12.

Thirty-one years in, and the bass still hits like the first time. But these days, Collective Soul’s Will Turpin is swapping pre-show adrenaline for well-earned naps and post-set shuffleboard battles with the same guys he’s been making music with since the early ’90s.

On a recent episode of Press Play Conversations, host Don Thatcher and Tina Houser, CEO of Press Play, caught up with Will mid-tour in Houston — and what unfolded was less of an interview and more of a masterclass in rock and roll endurance.

“We used to play 18 holes of golf, then the show, then stay up all night — and repeat it the next day,” Will laughed. “Now we nap. Hard.”

The laughs kept rolling, but the conversation soon took on depth — particularly when the discussion turned to the band’s recent documentary and what it feels like to still be drawing crowds and accolades over three decades in.

“When Dolly Parton said ‘Shine’ was one of her all-time favorite songs… I mean, come on,” Will said, visibly humbled. “She didn’t do it because it was a smart business move. She did it because she wanted to record it. That’s real.” And for a band whose breakout hit was recorded by Ed Roland mostly alone — long before Will or Dean were even officially in the group — it’s a testament to the staying power of a song that’s become a cultural bookmark.

But for all the spotlight Collective Soul has had, Will is refreshingly grounded. “We never thought, ‘Look, we made it,’” he admitted. “We’ve always been more like, ‘What’s next?’”

That mentality carries through to the stage today. Turpin lit up when talking about songs that still give him goosebumps. “We’ve been playing ‘Tremble for My Beloved’ again — first time in over 10 years. That bass line? Total U2 vibe. Adam Clayton style. I love that moment in the set.” He also mentioned an extended live version of December that turns into a full-on jam between him, drummer Johnny Rabb, and guitarist Jesse Triplett. “That one still gets me.”

The documentary, which was filmed fly-on-the-wall style by director Joseph Guay, gives fans an unfiltered look at the band as they recorded at Elvis Presley’s former estate in Palm Springs. “It was a time capsule,” Will said, recalling the untouched furniture, gear, and Palm Springs’ retro charm. “We were there for a month. Within ten days, everyone in town knew Collective Soul was recording.”

Even after decades on the road, Will’s still humble enough to talk about formative failures. When asked what musical setback he learned from most, he didn’t hesitate: missing All-State percussion auditions in 10th grade. “It was that moment of realizing I wasn’t ready. The next year, I practiced like crazy and made it with the highest score in the state.” That bounce-back instinct has served him well ever since.

These days, Will’s also watching the next wave with admiration. Touring with up-and-coming acts like Graylin and Jade Elephant, he says, reminds him of their early fire. His son Tristan is now part of the band too, playing piano, strings, and singing on stage — living proof that the soul of Collective Soul lives on through new blood, not just old anthems.

From high school percussion charts to headlining tours with Live and Our Lady Peace, Will’s journey is marked not by ego, but evolution. “Nobody sounds like Collective Soul,” he says, without bravado. Just fact. “It’s still about what’s next.”

And if you ask him what he’s still chasing after all these years?

Goosebumps. Chord drops. A band in sync. A crowd on fire. That moment when a song — even after the thousandth time — still hits home.

🎸 Want more Collective Soul? Find tour dates, music, and their documentary at www.collectivesoul.com.

Still shining. Still soulful. Always Collective.

There’s a calm that lingers behind the eyes of a legend who's lived through the chaos of metal’s wildest years—and Michael Weikath has that calm. Calling in from Berlin, the founding guitarist of Helloween joined Press Play Radio’s Don and Tina mid-rehearsal, flanked by century-old architecture, a shopping center, and a mission: to fine-tune guitar parts with bandmate Sascha Gerstner before the rest of the band arrives. “We’re sorting out the ‘what ifs’ before the singers show up,” he said casually, like it’s all just another Tuesday in power metal paradise.

Since Helloween’s official formation in 1984 (though it had roots in earlier Kai Hansen-led lineups), the band has become a cornerstone of European metal. Yet for Weikath, it’s never been about coasting. “We were rehearsing every day except Sundays,” he said. “On Sundays, we just got drunk.” It wasn’t all beer and distortion, though. They were obsessed with the logistics—contracts, distributors, lessons learned from bands like Lucifer’s Friend, who suffered from poor record distribution despite having the chops to be Germany’s answer to Queen.

Now decades into the game, Weikath is still as sharp and cheeky as ever. When Don reeled off a few of the band’s accolades—millions of records sold, platinum certifications—Weikath playfully undercut him. “Not us,” he deadpanned, pointing the credit toward bandmates. But even with his humility, there’s no denying the band’s impact. They helped define melodic power metal. They helped invent the big, European, cinematic metal sound—symphonic but aggressive, sweet but savage.

So how did it all begin for him? “I was twelve,” he told Tina, without hesitation. His musical gateway drug? The Beatles. He was obsessed. “She Loves You” lit the spark, but it was the sonic madness of Helter Skelter that pushed him toward distortion. “I wanted a guitar that sounded expensive,” he said, laughing. “They gave me a plastic saxophone, melodica, piano... but I just wanted to play rock and roll guitar.”

Eventually, he got that guitar—an acoustic one in 1974, followed by electric dreams and lessons his mother insisted on. “She said, ‘You’ll just leave it in the corner unless I make you take lessons.’ So I did. But I always wanted to plug in and use a pick.”

Tina, ever the heart of Press Play, leaned into the personal. “I love knowing how people actually became rock stars,” she said. Michael didn’t disappoint. He’s full of stories, and when he speaks, it’s clear that while the volume might have been cranked for most of his life, his feet stayed planted. He still geeks out over other bands—like Malice, whose debut album In the Beginning became a sonic blueprint. “We wanted to sound like that,” he said. “You can hear it in ‘Savior of the World’ on our new record. Totally Malice-inspired.”

Don couldn’t help but note the full circle of it all. Michael Wagener—who had worked with Malice, the Scorpions, and countless others—helped capture that exact sound. Weikath nodded, reminiscing about Wagener’s long-running chemistry with German artists like Klaus Meine and early Scorpions demos. “It all kind of ties together, doesn’t it?”

From plastic saxophones to platinum records, from Beatles fandom to defining an entire genre, Michael Weikath’s journey is part fairytale, part masterclass in obsession, and 100% authentic. Even now, preparing for another tour, he’s dissecting guitar parts, arranging harmonies, and preparing for another go at raising hell on stage with Helloween.

As the interview wound down, it was clear—Weikath isn’t just a shredder. He’s a historian, a craftsman, and most of all, a fan. He’s still in it for the sound. For the stories. For the legacy. And if that legacy started at twelve with a Beatles record… well, that’s just rock and roll poetry.

Be sure to check out their latest hit, This Is Tokyo, out now! 

For more on Helloween, tour dates, merch, and their latest release, visit: www.helloween.org

There’s a certain moment when a young artist stops sounding like a promising voice and starts feeling like the real thing. Taylon Hope has been circling that threshold for years, but during her latest Press Play Radio interview with The Don and Tina, it was clear—she’s stepped all the way into her artistry. Confident, magnetic, and full of quiet grit, Taylon is telling stories now—not just her own, but ones that speak for anyone who’s ever left, been left, or learned to stand on their own.

“Cold in Colorado,” one of her latest singles, isn’t her personal story—she admits that up front—but it’s written with such lived-in detail that it may as well be. “I’ve been trying to write from different perspectives,” she explained. “Stories I’ve heard, stories someone I know has lived. It’s cool to see people relate, even when it didn’t come from me.” The result is a chilly ballad that hits like a heartbreak in altitude, while Howdy, her upbeat summer stunner, flips the switch entirely—boot-stomping sass and all.

But make no mistake—behind the southern charm and sunshine-smile is a songwriter who cuts deeper than her years might suggest. Tina compared Taylon’s ability to tap into emotional truth to a spiritual conduit. “You’re a channel,” she told her. “Not everybody can do what you do—sit alone in a room and pull that magic out of yourself.” Taylon’s response? A quiet, grateful nod: “It’s even better when someone tells you they needed it.”

Raised on a diet of Taylor Swift, Hannah Montana, and Red-era country-pop, Taylon remembers buying Swift’s Red as her first album, which also happened to be her first concert. “I still love her songwriting,” she said. “That album meant a lot.” From there, the conversation slid easily into Song Story territory—a Press Play favorite where artists reveal the first piece of music that shaped them. The Don and Tina chimed in with Foreigner and Aldo Nova memories, but it was Taylon’s Swiftie roots that offered a full-circle feel, especially when The Don jokingly warned her: “Be careful what you write. You’re gonna drop a whole album on somebody.”

Case in point: Howdy. The song’s playful exterior—backed by a line-dancing music video filmed in an old-timey saloon set, complete with fog machines and vintage trucks—masks a clever twist. “He’s not your typical cowboy,” Taylon laughed. “He drives a Cadillac.” The video, set for release mid-August, features friends, dancers, and even a cleverly disguised romantic subplot. “You never really see who the guy is,” she teased. “It’s like a mini-movie.”

But if she’s writing grown-up songs now, she’s still keeping it grounded. Taylon lets her parents and grandparents hear everything before she releases it. “They’ll be honest,” she smiled. “If they like it, I know it’s okay.” Family remains her compass—especially when navigating heartbreaks, music videos, or even awkward moments like kissing scenes on TV. “It’s weird,” she admitted. “But I let them in on it all.”

Later, the conversation veered to AI in music, guilty pleasure skips (news stations, if you’re Taylon), and what makes an ideal guy. Her answer? “Good personality, respectful, kind… and someone who puts in effort.” Not a bad lyric seed if you ask us.

Taylon Hope is writing songs that feel like they’ve already lived inside you—whether they’re about heartache in the Rockies or Cadillac cowboys you haven’t met yet. With more than just raw talent, she’s got the storytelling chops, the work ethic, and the authenticity to carry country music somewhere new.

Catch Taylon Hope’s latest singles “Cold in Colorado” and “Howdy” on all major streaming platforms.

Press play. Turn it up. And watch her rise.

Trevor Rabin is nothing short of a guitar legend. From his groundbreaking solo work to reshaping YES and composing more than 50 film scores, he never stops creating. In this episode, Trevor sits down with The Don and Dean Baldwin to discuss his first solo album in 34 years, Rio—named after his beloved granddaughter.

We dive into the real story behind 90125: was it truly meant to be a YES album, or something else entirely? Trevor shares how the project transformed into one of the band’s most iconic releases, the creative forces behind it, and the role his classical roots played—growing up with a father who conducted the South African symphony orchestra for over 17 years.

Trevor also opens up about his relentless creative drive, the subtle cues his wife has learned to recognize when inspiration strikes, and the artistry behind scoring films. With stories that span rock, classical, and cinema, this conversation is packed with insights you won’t want to miss.

He’s the voice Stevie Wonder calls a favorite. The bassist who shook arenas with Deep Purple. The soulful powerhouse who started with Trapeze and never stopped evolving. In this unforgettable episode, Glenn Hughes joins us to talk about his legendary vocal chops, his time in Deep Purple, and the spiritual connection that drives his music today.

Glenn shares rare, behind-the-scenes stories—what it was like being roommates with David Bowie, his encounters with Stevie Wonder, and how his setlists reflect a career full of reinvention. We dive into the songs he's performing now, the artists he still dreams of collaborating with (spoiler: Vernon Reid, take note), and why change is the heartbeat of his creative journey.

This isn’t just a conversation—it’s a front-row seat to the life of a rock and soul icon.

Glen Phillips of the legendary Toad the Wet Sprocket joins us for a heartfelt and revealing conversation around the band's newly released LP All You Want. We unpack fan favorites like “I Will Not Take These Things For Granted,” “Crazy Life,” “Crowing,” “Windmills,” and the haunting “Transient Whales.”

With co-hosts Dean Baldwin and the Grizz in the mix, we explore the overlooked magic of bridges in songwriting, and Toad's unique place in the pre-grunge/post-grunge 90s landscape—where they carved out their own introspective, melodic lane.

Glen opens up about life after divorce, rebuilding with grace, and the quiet power of starting over. From the craft of songwriting to the resilience of the human heart, this episode is filled with insight, laughter, and the kind of moments that make you hit rewind.

–– Press play for one of our most honest and poetic conversations yet.

Kurt joined The Don, Grizz, and Dean Baldwin for a killer conversation about his new single “Doom”—the theme song for his upcoming horror film Hellbilly Hollow. We dive deep into the making of the movie, the inspiration behind the track, and his unforgettable cameo in Halloween, where he met his on-screen end at the hands of Michael Myers. But it’s not all screams and slashes—Kurt also opens up about the importance of surrounding himself with positive people and staying grounded amidst the chaos.