Let me introduce you to a voice that lives the stories it tells. Adrianna Freeman comes from Tallahassee, Florida, but her sound echoes from the muddy banks of the Mississippi Delta to the pews of an old Southern church. Raised by Ed Freeman, a former sharecropper with a deep love for country music, and his wife, Theresa, Adrianna was steeped in tradition from birth. While her peers were dancing to the latest R&B hits, Adrianna was falling under the spell of Loretta Lynn’s heartbreak ballads and Patty Loveless’s mountain cries. It’s this timeless soul she brings to her music—a voice from the red clay and gospel choir, weathered and wise, but fresh and fiery.
Her latest offering, “The Price,” is a riveting tale that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. Rooted in country storytelling and laced with gritty Delta blues, the track is an emotional rollercoaster, vividly painting a Southern Gothic revenge saga worthy of a feature film.
From the moment the song opens, you feel it: a brooding, swampy atmosphere creeps in through Carl Minor’s acoustic guitar, with James Mitchell’s electric licks slashing through the shadows like lightning over a stormy bayou. Chris Autry’s bass and Jacob Schrod’s drums hold down a pulse that feels like a slow march toward something ominous. And haunting the entire soundscape is Gabe Klein’s keys—subtle, eerie, and cinematic.
Then comes Adrianna’s voice—and what a voice it is. Rich, soulful, and commanding, she doesn’t just narrate the story—she becomes it. You can hear the steel in her tone when she channels Sally Ann Meeks, a woman scorned, betrayed, and unbowed: “She said yeah, I’m a change my name. And I’m going a make him pay. I don’t care, no way. I swear to God that man gon pay.”
It’s a performance soaked in emotion—part preacher, part avenger. Adrianna sings not from a place of melodrama, but conviction. There’s a gospel fire in her phrasing, a deep blues ache in her growl, and a classic country storyteller’s knack for dramatic pacing. When she hits the chorus—“The Price is High, will you pay”—the refrain cuts like a warning and a dare all at once.
What makes “The Price” so effective is how it builds a full circle. Just when you think justice has been served, the tables turn again. The man who wronged Sally finds himself pleading for mercy sixteen years later: “He cried to the Lord, please save my soul. The price is too high for me to pay.” It’s the kind of twist that would make Johnny Cash nod in approval.
The production, guided masterfully by Bill McDermott, elevates this narrative into a sonic mini-movie. Every instrumental choice feels purposeful—nothing is wasted, nothing overdone. The space between the notes is as powerful as the music itself. You can almost see the Spanish moss hanging in the air, smell the smoke curling up from a fire long gone cold.
Adrianna Freeman is a storyteller with roots as deep as magnolia trees and a sound that defies the usual borders. She writes with the heart of a poet, sings with the soul of a woman who’s lived every lyric, and performs like the spotlight belongs to her alone. With “The Price,” she’s delivered more than just a song—she’s delivered a Southern epic, with heartbreak, vengeance, and redemption wrapped in a hauntingly beautiful melody. And trust me, this is just the beginning of what Adrianna Freeman has to say. Welcome to her world—you’re going to want to stay a while.
Listen to “The Price” on Spotify
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