Mitchell Broodleyโs โOvertime Againโ touches us like a chapter taken from real life, torn straight out of the notebook of someone whoโs lived a few different lives already. Raised in South Carolina, now settled in Vermont with a law career, hospital leadership, and a family under his belt, Broodley isnโt chasing the country dream so much as circling back to itโwith more miles, more scars, and a lot more perspective.
After his surprise holiday hit climbed Amazonโs charts, โOvertime Againโ leans into what he does best: honest, lived-in storytelling wrapped in modern country warmth. This time, the field heโs playing on is a long-distance relationship, where every visit feels like the last two minutes of the fourth quarter.
The track opens on a gentle glow of glistening acoustic guitars, a warm melody settling in like porch light at dusk. Broodleyโs soft, steady, unmistakably Southern voice drops you right into the room as he remembers, โYou walked in wearing my old jersey, hair in a ponytail, blocking the TV,โ turning a simple image into a whole relationship in one frame. Itโs football as emotional shorthand, not a gimmick: the game on the screen, the real stakes sitting beside him on the couch.
When the chorus hits, the drums rumble in quietly, and the guitars begin to splash and sparkle, widening the sound. He leans into that storytelling tone, almost talking more than singing as he confesses, โLaughing and kissing, holding you tight, every second countsโฆ Tomorrow I will be gone again, replaying every moment that weโve spent.โ Itโs not about grand promises, just the ache of knowing the clock is always running.
โOvertime Againโ feels genuinely true. Itโs the sound of a man whoโs already walked away from music once and decided, with clear eyes, that this time every song has to be worth staying for.
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Review by: Naomi Joan