About the Song
Released in 1978 as part of his album I’ve Always Been Crazy, “Girl I Can Tell (You’re Trying to Work It Out)” finds Waylon Jennings in a moment of quiet confrontation and resilient love. The track is listed as track #9 on the album.
In this song, Jennings sings with respect and firmness—addressing a woman who’s “trying to work it out,” but also revealing he sees the strain and stakes involved. It’s a mature reflection of relationships caught between hope and fatigue, knowing that sometimes love doesn’t just slide back into place—it wrestles its way there. Jennings’ voice is seasoned, steady. It doesn’t yield to melodrama. Instead, it holds a space of truth, honesty, and blueprint-hard reality.
Musically the arrangement is straightforward yet strong—country instrumentation in clear focus: guitars, steady rhythm, subtle steel. The production doesn’t hide behind shine or flash. Instead, Jennings provides a voice anchored in life lived: miles on the highway, nights behind him, the sting of separations and the ache of expectation. The phrasing matters: when he says “I can tell you’re trying to work it out,” you feel the respect for the effort, but also the weariness of past rounds.
For listeners who’ve seen years go by, who’ve held love in one hand and responsibility in the other, this song offers recognition. It acknowledges work—not just the spark of first love, but the continuous labour of staying, of walking alongside even when the road bends. It’s a moment of adult country music—less about youthful escape, more about the ongoing everyday challenge of connection.
In the context of the album I’ve Always Been Crazy, a record that reflects Jennings’ own tensions between fame, freedom, and fidelity, this song holds its place with integrity. He doesn’t recoil from admitting things aren’t perfect; rather he sings into the space where they’re real. For older fans of Jennings and country authenticity, “Girl I Can Tell (You’re Trying to Work It Out)” is a reminder: love isn’t always smooth—but the attempt, when genuine, still counts.
If you’ve ever been that one holding half the weight, watching someone try, wondering if it will hold—you’ll find something resonant here. Jennings invites you in, not with fanfare, but with the simple truth: I see you, I see us, and I’m standing here.