After nearly a decade in Nashville writing heartbreak soaked songs, Wes Kirkpatrick hit a wall creatively and personally. “I wasn’t even trying to write sad songs anymore,” he says. “It’s just all that ever came out.” Eventually the weight of it all pushed him back home to the Colorado mountains, hoping something, anything, might change.

It did.

What started as a quiet reset quickly became a flood of unexpected joy. One day Wes sat down to write what he thought would be another slow, sorrowful tune for a film project. Instead something entirely different spilled out. Hopeful lines. Brighter melodies. A glimmer of happiness he didn’t recognize at first. “I thought it was unbearably cheesy,” he laughs. “Turns out it was just happy, and I wasn’t used to that.”

What followed was a creative reawakening. The spark that got him into music in the first place, the love, the fun, the wonder, came rushing back. Suddenly songwriting felt new again. And with that spark came a project. A collection of songs that did not shy away from joy.

The result was his EP That Kind of Love, a celebration of rediscovered light. Built on warm folk pop foundations, vintage tones, and lyrics that search for meaning in everyday moments, the songs mark a turning point in Kirkpatrick’s writing. Less about heartbreak and more about the quiet ways life can surprise you.

But the wave of creativity did not stop there.

As life continued unfolding around him, Wes began writing songs that wrestled with something even bigger than love. Time. Watching family members grow older and navigating the reality that life moves faster than we expect forced him to confront questions that have no easy answers.

Part of that reflection came while watching his grandmother battle cancer. For most of his life she had been the center of the family, the steady light that held everyone together. As her health declined, the idea of time took on a new weight. What it means. How little of it we truly have. And how easy it is to spend it chasing things that do not really matter.

Those thoughts became the foundation for his song “Time.” With cinematic builds, grooving rhythms, and reflective lyrics, the song explores the strange tension of time itself. It can heal. It can race forward. And no matter how much we chase success or security, it is the one thing we can never buy back.

Two days before she passed away, Wes sat beside his grandmother and played the song for her. The bridge had not been written yet, so he planned to hum his way through that part. Instead, the words he sang in that moment became the bridge that lives in the song today. It was the last song he ever shared with her.

Now living high in the Colorado mountains, Wes blends the heart of a singer songwriter with the groove and warmth of vintage pop. Fans of Dawes, Bahamas, and Rayland Baxter will find something familiar yet fresh in his sound. But ultimately Wes Kirkpatrick does not just write love songs.

He writes reminders.

That joy can return.
That time is precious.
And that sometimes the last song you share with someone becomes the one that lasts forever.