Music isn't always about the hook. Sometimes, it's just about survival. If you’ve ever sat in a dark room with a glass of something strong, wondering if your life was actually falling apart or just hitting a temporary snag, you’ve probably heard Jessi Colter’s voice. Or maybe Waylon Jennings’. Or maybe that specific, gritty harmony where their voices collide like two weather fronts. The lyrics Storms Never Last aren't just words on a page; they're basically a blueprint for how to keep a marriage from imploding when the world—and your own bad habits—start screaming at you to give up.
It’s a weirdly short song. Under three minutes, usually. But in that tiny window, Colter managed to capture the entire messy reality of long-term commitment. It’s not a fairytale. It’s a storm cellar.
The Raw Truth Behind the Lyrics Storms Never Last
Jessi Colter wrote this thing alone. That matters. People often assume Waylon had a hand in the penmanship because he’s the Outlaw, the giant, the man who shook up Nashville. But this was Jessi’s perspective. She wrote it during a period where their marriage was, frankly, a bit of a disaster. Waylon was battling heavy drug use. The music industry was shifting. They were living life at a million miles an hour, and not all of it was pretty.
The opening line hits you right in the chest: "Storms never last, do they, baby? Bad times all pass with the wind."
It sounds optimistic, right? Like a Hallmark card. But it’s not. If you listen to the phrasing, it’s a question. She’s asking for confirmation. She’s looking at her husband and saying, "We’re going to be okay, aren't we?" It’s a plea disguised as a statement of fact. That’s the brilliance of the songwriting. It operates on two levels: the surface-level comfort and the underlying desperation of someone trying to hold the roof down during a hurricane.
Why the Metaphor Actually Works
We talk about "storms" in songs all the time. It’s a cliché. But Colter does something specific here. She ties the weather to the physical act of holding someone. "Your hand in mine sure feels fine," she sings. It’s such a simple, almost childlike observation. Yet, in the context of a crumbling relationship, holding hands is a radical act of defiance. It’s saying that despite the external chaos, the physical connection remains the anchor.
Most people think this song is just about "cheering up." It isn't. It’s about the endurance of the "sand" and the "rock."
The Waylon and Jessi Dynamic
You can’t talk about these lyrics without talking about the 1981 version. They’d recorded it before, but the version on the Leather and Lace album is the one that stuck. By then, their struggles were public knowledge. Waylon’s voice—deep, weary, and vibrating with that signature tremolo—acts as the perfect counterpoint to Jessi’s higher, more fragile tone.
When they sing the chorus together, it doesn't sound like a polished studio production. It sounds like a conversation overheard through a thin apartment wall.
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A Departure from Nashville Standards
Back in the late 70s and early 80s, country music was leaning hard into "Countrypolitan"—lots of strings, lots of over-production. "Storms Never Last" went the other way. It stayed sparse. The lyrics needed room to breathe because the sentiment was so heavy. If you clutter a song about survival with too many fiddles, you lose the intimacy.
Honestly, the song feels more like a folk tune than a country anthem. It’s got that timeless, "this could have been written in 1850" vibe. That’s probably why it has been covered by everyone from Dr. Hook to John Prine. Everyone wants a piece of that honesty. Prine, especially, understood the subtext. He knew that the "storms" weren't just bad luck; they were often self-inflicted.
Breaking Down the Verse: "Follow the Sun"
The second verse is where the song gets its legs. "Follow the sun, watch the good times roll on by."
This is where some listeners get tripped up. Is she saying we should just ignore the bad stuff? Sorta. But not really. It’s more about the cyclical nature of life. You can’t have the "good times rolling on by" without the acknowledgment that they will roll by. They aren't permanent. Just like the storms aren't permanent. It’s a very Zen approach for a couple known for outlaw country and hard living.
- The Storm: Representing addiction, infidelity, financial ruin, or just the general grind of aging.
- The Hand: Representing the choice to stay.
- The Wind: Representing the passage of time that eventually dulls the sharp edges of a crisis.
When you look at the lyrics Storms Never Last through this lens, the song becomes a lesson in emotional resilience. It acknowledges that the "dark" is coming, but it insists that the light is also a guaranteed part of the cycle.
The Cultural Impact of a "Quiet" Song
In a world of "Friends in Low Places" and "Jolene," why does this quiet little track remain a staple?
Maybe because it’s one of the few songs that treats marriage like work. Pop music loves the "falling in love" part. Country music loves the "you cheated and I’m drunk" part. There’s a massive gap in the middle—the "we’ve been together fifteen years and I’m tired but I’m staying" part. That’s where this song lives.
It’s the song played at anniversaries for couples who have actually been through the ringer. It’s the song for people who have seen the worst version of their partner and decided that the person underneath is still worth the effort.
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The Outlaw Context
Context is everything. Waylon Jennings was the face of the Outlaw movement. He was the guy who told Nashville to shove its rules. He wore leather, grew his hair long, and took control of his own recordings. But "Storms Never Last" shows the soft underbelly of that movement. You can be a rebel all you want, but at the end of the day, you still need a home. You still need someone who knows exactly how broken you are and doesn't leave.
Jessi Colter was the secret weapon of that era. She wasn't just "Waylon's wife." She was the grounding force and a top-tier songwriter in her own right. This song proved she could go toe-to-toe with the best of them by writing something so simple it was actually complex.
Common Misconceptions About the Song
People often get the history of the song mixed up.
First, it wasn't a massive #1 hit right out of the gate. It was a slow burn. It grew in stature as the legend of Waylon and Jessi grew. People look back at it now as a definitive classic, but at the time, it was just a beautiful track on a collaborative album.
Second, many think it’s a sad song. I’d argue it’s the opposite. It’s a profoundly hopeful song, but it’s a earned hope. It’s not the cheap hope of a lottery ticket; it’s the hope of a soldier who sees the end of the war.
Third, there's a weird rumor that it was written about a specific plane crash or a literal storm. Nope. It’s metaphorical. It’s about the weather of the soul.
How to Apply the Message Today
We live in a "disposable" culture. If something breaks, we throw it away. If a relationship gets hard, we swipe for a new one. The lyrics Storms Never Last stand in direct opposition to that. They suggest that the "storm" is actually a necessary part of the landscape. Without the rain, nothing grows.
If you’re going through a rough patch—whether it’s career-wise, in your marriage, or just mentally—the song offers a three-step survival guide:
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- Acknowledge the storm. Don't pretend it isn't raining.
- Find your anchor. Who is the "hand in mine"?
- Wait. The wind eventually moves the clouds. You can't force the sun to come out, but you can be there when it does.
Actionable Insights from the Song's Legacy
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of this track, don't just stream it on a loop. Take a beat to look at the history of the artists involved.
Listen to the 1975 solo version by Jessi Colter first. It’s on her album I’m Jessi Colter. It’s more vulnerable, almost haunting. Then, listen to the 1981 duet. You can hear the years in their voices. You can hear the fact that they survived the storms they were singing about in '75. That’s the "proof of concept."
Check out the cover by Dr. Hook. It’s surprisingly good and brings a different, slightly more pop-oriented soul to the lyrics. It shows how the song translates across different genres.
Read Jessi Colter’s memoir, An Outlaw and a Lady. She goes into detail about her life with Waylon, the highs, the lows, and the spiritual journey that kept them together. It provides the "lore" that makes the lyrics hit even harder.
The takeaway? Life is going to get ugly sometimes. You’re going to feel like the wind is trying to tear the doors off the hinges. But if you’ve got the right person, or even just the right mindset, you realize that the weather is temporary. The rock is what stays.
Next time you hear that opening guitar lick, don't just listen to the melody. Listen to the defiance. "Storms never last, do they, baby?"
No. They don't. And that's the whole point.
Practical Next Steps:
- Audit your "anchors": Identify the people or habits that keep you grounded when things get chaotic.
- Practice the "Wait" method: In a crisis, remind yourself of the cyclical nature of the "wind" mentioned in the song.
- Explore the Outlaw Country era: Beyond the hits, look into the songwriting of Kris Kristofferson and Billy Joe Shaver to see how they handled similar themes of survival and grit.