“Broken Branches” is more than a collaboration — it’s a generational torch pass, lit with sorrow and reverence. When you put Dierks Bentley, John Anderson, and Riley Green on a track together, you’re not just making a song — you’re stitching together a story that spans decades of country grit and grace. This one’s all roots, no gloss.
From the first guitar strum, you feel it — the weight of time. The arrangement is sparse but full: acoustic guitar and steel weep together under a slow-moving rhythm that never tries to rush the pain. It’s the kind of track you play with the windows down on a cold morning, just to feel something real again.
The title “Broken Branches” works on every level. It’s about family trees damaged by time, distance, and bad choices. It’s about the pieces we try to mend — and the ones we learn to live without. It’s personal, but the kind of personal that hits everybody square in the chest.
Bentley handles the first verse with that smooth, modern-outlaw touch he’s perfected — a little weathered, a little clean. Anderson steps in like a damn ghost from the glory days, voice cracking in all the right ways, full of worn-out wisdom. And Riley Green brings it home with that youthful but grounded tone, tying the old and the new together like a backroad fence post lashed with baling wire.
The chorus lands with quiet devastation:
“Some names carved in the bark are fading / Some stories we never got to hear / Broken branches don’t grow back / But I still keep ‘em near.”
That’s not songwriting — that’s truth. The kind you hear at funerals and family reunions. The kind you carry with you long after the music stops.
Production stays respectful — no over-polish, no Nashville pop shine. Just space, breath, and emotion. The harmony sections are raw enough to feel human, and clean enough to honor the craftsmanship. You can hear the air in the room, and that’s exactly how it should be.
This song isn’t made to chart. It’s made to last. To be played when you’re sitting in your truck outside the house you grew up in, wondering why things couldn’t stay simple. It’s made for the folks who’ve got pictures in shoeboxes and empty chairs at the table.
“Broken Branches” is a slow-burning tribute to the things that made us — and the pieces we carry when they fall apart. And with these three voices on the mic, it’s as close to country gospel as modern outlaw music gets.
