Blending yacht rock smoothness with classic and modern country storytelling, Minni Verse unveils “Love That Breathes” — a heartfelt exploration of unrequited love, emotional honesty, and the beauty of vulnerability in song.
I was raised in a household that appreciated varying types of music. Yacht rock and classic country both were a part of my musical foundation. Yacht rock has what I call “effortless power” –it makes you close your eyes and lean your head back while listening. Classic country has a whole story-telling style of its own. Modern country, to me, is rooted in country but with a splash of a differing genre (depending on the artist/writer).
When I started writing “Love That Breathes”, I wanted to capture the classic country feel of raw emotion, rooted in the story-teller style. The more I played it on my guitar and listened back to my rough recordings, the more it took shape. I started hearing a sad slide guitar, a fat bass line that you could not only hear but feel, brushes on the drums, then building drums and strings at the bridge. The strings get me every time.
As a songwriter, I wonder how many of the details are even noticed but when I hear it back, I can’t help but close my eyes and take it in.
I felt that the story of unrequited love was always told from the heart that fell in love and not from the person who didn’t feel it in return. Historically, songs paint a picture of someone expressing undying love to someone who doesn’t deserve it or is cold-hearted. But that’s not always the truth. It’s unfair to say that the one who can’t fall in love is wrong or cold. I believe there is strength, honesty, and even pain in expressing that there is no love felt in return. It is a lot harder than has been given credit and it was time for the heart of the other person to be expressed.
As I briefly touched on earlier, the more I played LTB on guitar & listened back, the more I could mentally create a path to the heartbreak story. I felt that a typical drum pattern just wouldn’t be soft enough to begin telling the story as gently as I wanted to portray it. So I opted for brushes, which I love in this song. I didn’t initially plan on using strings for LTB. I had tinkered with the idea of incorporating strings for a couple of songs in the past but it hadn’t felt as perfect as this time. I knew I wanted the bridge to be something bigger—but not necessarily a BOOM—more of a fullness, a larger and heavier sadness to match the words of not understanding why the love can’t be returned when everything else appears to be a perfect fit.
Although the song contains one storyline, the feelings contained in the story are pulled from times when love has been expressed and I just couldn’t feel it in return. For instance, outside of the puppy love era, within an adult relationship, I was told how deeply someone loved me. He expressed it and exemplified it. It was beautiful…and I couldn’t understand why I felt nothing in return. I was honest and it hurt both of us, obviously in different ways. There was a depth of love that I just couldn’t get to with him. It was amazing, beautiful, to receive…and yet, painful to be loved like that when I knew I couldn’t return it. I wondered if it was something I was doing wrong but, as I got older, I realized that it just wasn’t meant to happen with that person.
Dates are still being added to the 2026 calendar — so if you’ve got a venue in mind, let me know!
I’ll be touring as an acoustic duo with Jeff Lawrence — a phenomenal guitarist and musician. We’ll be performing my originals and a few covers along the way. I asked Jeff if he’d be willing to hit the road with me to connect with all the amazing people who’ve supported this journey so far. Luckily, he agreed — which is wild, considering he’s such an incredible player. Honestly, performing with Jeff feels like sneaking into a masterclass I didn’t pay for… I just hope no one calls security.
We’re really looking forward to sharing these songs live. So if we’re playing near you, come hang out, sing along, and be part of the story with us.
The most challenging part so far has been releasing that first song. It might not sound like a huge leap, but as a songwriter, putting your first piece of work out there feels a bit like a mama bird nudging her first baby out of the nest to see if it can fly. It’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. Every song after that still carries that same mix of fear and excitement—you just get a little more familiar with the feeling.
Being vulnerable is never comfortable, but it’s the only way to grow. I never know if people will connect with my music—and for me, that connection means everything—but I have to trust that I’m not the only one who’s felt the things I write about. And I’m usually not. When someone reaches out to share how a song resonated with them or mirrors their own story, it makes all the fear and uncertainty completely worth it.
Copyright © 2025 The Inteviewist
