Working Royals Turn Memory Into a Map on Their New Album 'Cross Country'

Working Royals didn’t return after thirty years to make something half-hearted; they came back to finish a story they started as kids.  Their album, Cross Country, is the sound of a band reconvening across provinces, airports, family schedules, and wildly different adult lives to put their shared history into something permanent, finally. The result is a rock/Americana record that hits like a box of old photos you forgot you saved. It’s warm, lived-in, emotional without trying too hard, and built on a simple truth: real music happens when actual humans show up in the same room and play as they mean it.

The album eases open with “Second wind,” an invitation into a world where old flames and old memories suddenly swing back into view. The band paints the moment beautifully, a woman walks in, says hello like no time has passed, and suddenly the story that should’ve been over feels like it’s cracking open again. The narrator isn’t scared of the past coming back; he’s energized by it. It’s that rare feeling of cosmic timing, the “if it comes back, it’s meant to be” moment people write entire novels about. As an opener, it sets the tone for an album obsessed with the overlap of memory and possibility.

“Jenny” follows as this surprisingly tender reminder that even strong people get swallowed by darkness sometimes. The song leans into the quiet, unspoken burden of trying to pull someone you love back into the light, not with force, not with pressure, but with a steady hand and a patience that feels deeply earned. Working Royals write this kind of emotional honesty really well; there’s no hero complex, just a man telling Jenny she’s allowed to shine again.

“Better man” moves the record into heavier territory: heartbreak, self-confrontation, the emotional hangover of trying and failing to make something work. Instead of turning bitterness into a hook, the band goes inward, talking about drinking too much, burning old memories that don’t serve you anymore, and cutting ties with the people who keep you stuck in your comfort zone. There’s a maturity to the writing here: growth is messy, uncomfortable, and requires way more honesty than blame.

By the time “Here right now” arrives, the album shifts into presence. No analysis, no questioning, no emotional paperwork, just two people choosing to exist in the same moment without unpacking the weight of the past. It’s simple, breezy, and necessary after the emotional scab-picking of the songs before it.

Then comes one of the album’s most poetic turns: “Time.” At first listen, it plays like a song about a relationship, memories, fading moments, wondering why the wonder slipped away from someone’s eyes, but the more you absorb it, the more obvious it becomes that the “baby” in the song isn’t a lover at all. It’s time itself. Time as a thief. Time as a giver. Time as the thing that holds every memory together before pulling it apart again. It’s one of the most thoughtful metaphors on the album, and it adds a whole new dimension to the record’s theme of distance and change.

“Us at our finest” reintroduces optimism, the kind that’s grounded rather than naïve. It’s a song about choosing inner alignment, listening to the voice inside you, and leveling up not just for yourself but for the people you love. The band frames self-improvement as something communal: when you grow, so do the relationships that matter. It’s less a pep talk and more a reminder that the best version of “us” starts with the best version of “you.”

“Fighter” keeps that emotional grit alive, leaning into perseverance with a quieter kind of strength. There’s no chest-thumping bravado here; it’s about waiting, holding on, and enduring the parts of life that test your patience and your heart. It feels like the steady pulse between storms. Then, Working Royals let the light back in with “We are the night,” their most cosmic, spiritual moment. The song leans into twin-flame energy, the idea of meeting someone whose presence doesn’t just match you but amplifies you. It’s about two people whose connection turns into its own kind of electricity, lighting up the dark and creating space to be fully, unapologetically themselves. It radiates warmth without getting cheesy, which is a tough balance they manage beautifully.

Just when the album feels like it’s floating toward hope, “Lonely road” snaps everything back into the reality of grief. This isn’t breakup grief, it’s the kind that comes from losing someone permanently. The writing is stripped down, honest, and quietly devastating. The narrator admits that no matter where he went in the world, his car kept taking him back to her memory. There’s a harsh kind of acceptance in that image, love that didn’t get a chance to play out, a road that ends before it should, and a truth you carry for the rest of your life. The fact that she passed away makes every lyric land with a deeper ache.

“Colors to love” serves as the emotional lift afterward, a reflection on love that expanded someone’s world instead of shrinking it. The band uses color as the metaphor for perspective, for rediscovering joy, for the way the right relationship can shift everything from grey to vivid. It’s raw, organic, intimate, a reminder that real connection doesn’t just change your heart, it changes how you see the world.

Finally, “Hard to be back” closes the record with the same emotional honesty it opened with. Coming back home after building a life somewhere else is complicated. The song acknowledges the ache of returning to a place that shaped you but no longer fits you, the tension between gratitude and growth, between loyalty and evolution. It’s not a bitter song; it’s a heavy one. A recognition that loving your roots doesn’t mean you’re meant to stay planted in them forever.

As a full body of work, Cross Country succeeds because it embraces the messiness of adulthood, the reunions, the missed chances, the grief, the joy, the rediscovery of who you are when life blows you off-course. It’s a road-trip album in the emotional sense: you feel like you’ve traveled somewhere by the time it’s over.

The band’s own words echo through the project: “It’s never too late to pick up the phone, book the flight, and chase the thing you’ve been talking about for years.” That mission bleeds into every guitar tone, every lyric, every live-off-the-floor arrangement that reminds you real music still exists.

With vinyl on the way and their December 18 Holiday Rocktail Party set to turn Vancouver’s Hollywood Theatre into a full-circle homecoming, complete with support for Music Heals and the community that raised them, Working Royals aren’t just releasing an album. They’re building a legacy out of friendship, memory, and the courage to keep going.

Cross Country feels like an album built from the lived experience of three decades of friendship, distance, and real adult life. Looking back, what moment or turning point made you all finally say, “Okay, it’s time, we need to make this record now”?

Ben: It was very organic. Paul and I started exploring themes on his piano and making demos about a year ago … from there and without hesitation, we started working with long-time friend and collaborator Zach, who is based in Toronto . Music has always been a very important part of all of our lives, but it is often hard to dedicate and commit time to it with work and family. None of this felt planned, more so ‘we have to do this now’ because the music is really speaking to us and exciting.

Zach: Paul and I have worked creatively together quite a bit over the years… Songwriting for fun, but also writing scripts and commercials professionally in the agency/advertising world. Our professional roads sort of led us in separate directions around 2020, but I continued writing a lot of music, especially during the depths of the pandemic, regularly sending it to Paul for feedback and reaction.

After a while, I guess Paul kind of got the bug and started working up his own piano and guitar pieces, working with Ben and occasionally sending me some ideas, asking me to “pile on” with ideas. I would listen to their work on dogwalks, quietly singing to myself… loosely working up vocal melodies and lyrics… finally, I started sharing my parts back with them, and Ben would finesse and arrange… These first tunes proved the “cross country” concept, that our songs could be written over a long distance. In fact, we found there was some magic in the separation… a little independent thought, even a little broken telephone, added some surprising depth.

We thought the songs were sounding good, and it seemed obvious (to us at least) that they were worth fully producing and recording… And we haven’t stopped…  After that first song or two was recorded and we got a taste of what we actually sounded like… what we were capable of,  we just kept going!

A lot of these songs reflect different stages of life: old flames returning, losing someone too soon, reconnecting, outgrowing the past, and finding clarity. When you were writing, were there any lyrics or themes that surprised you by hitting harder than expected?

Ben: I can share that each song tells a specific story, and each one of us has a unique perspective on the origins. Jenny started as an unassuming guitar demo from Paul with a few lyrics for the chorus. Zach works magic with weaving a story and came up with the verses. It’s a song that we didn’t expect much from, but it’s really carried a lot of weight for the record. Similarly ‘Second Wind’ - was a grooveCreated during Covid in a cabin and Zach took the vibe and ran with it … it’s far exceeded our expectations .. I know that many of these songs are personal real-life snapshots for Zach and carry a lot of honest truth - like Hard to Be Back and Colors and Colors to Love.

Zach: Most of these lyrics are a pretty literal product of my last few years… It’s been a pretty heavy, bordering on dark time for me. I’ve lost some close family members and have had to recon with some pretty traumatic events and life changes, all against a backdrop of a shaky economy, wars, a climate crisis, wildfires and drought, a growing acceptance of autocratic rule, and a general dumbing and numbing of society… These songs and lyrics have been my therapy through all of this… and yeah, it always surprises me when a lyric articulates a feeling… but Jesus, the feelings are pretty (fuckin’) big right now. Not just in me, but in the world… I believe most people are too distracted and isolated by their phones, and too sedated by cheap booze and sugar to complain or even cite their experiences as notable.

This is a notable time, and I, for one, do not believe it is great. It surprises me that more people aren’t singing their truths or experiences. The truth is astonishing these days. Yet, we see so much artifice and contrived glamour through social media. These songs reflect details of a real, contemporary, human life. Any sharing of real raw experience and emotion is going to create a little tension… that tension hits hard. It’s something we need more of.

The album leans heavily into human connection, literally, people in a room together. Why was that “live-off-the-floor” approach so essential for capturing the honesty and chemistry of Working Royals after being apart for so long?

Ben: Most of the best hooks and arrangement ideas come together spontaneously in the studio. We don’t get too precious with things; if it feels good, we usually know it and just go for it.

Zach: That’s just it. Almost all of these songs were cobbled together. Parts were written separately. Sessions were volleyed back and forth between our studios in Toronto and Vancouver. It’s lonely work… and well, getting together to literally  “PLAY” and bring the tunes to life is fun! It brings out the humanity in the arrangements… people coming together making something bigger than the sum of its parts… it feels like a celebration. It’s a privilege. We all know it is a rare and special gift to be able to do this!

Songs like “Lonely Road” and “Time” dig into grief, memory, and how time reshapes us. How did you balance telling deeply personal stories while still creating music that listeners can see themselves in?

Zach: I believe that the more detailed and personal a story is, the more relatable it will be to an audience. If you paint an honest and believable backdrop, people are more likely to find and recognize pieces of themselves in the small details… that’s what I try to do, invite people into my stories, illuminating the bits that I think are worth mentioning, giving people/listeners enough substance to relate back to their own experience and ideally feel something themselves. As a listener, that’s what my favourite songs do for me.

You’re celebrating the album with a hometown Rocktail Party that supports Music Heals. What does community mean to Working Royals?

Ben: It means everything to us - we are so lucky to have a community that supports the arts, and giving back through music heals is something we love dearly … our closest friends started Music Heals and revamped the iconic Hollywood theatre, we are thrilled to be able to give back and support local music.

Zach: As Ben says above, it is everything. Working together to make lives better. That’s at the core of everything we do. It’s the reason we pour ourselves into our music… It’s the most positive contribution we can make to our community.