A Simple Truth in a Complicated World: Love, When Real, Needs No Explanation
When Alan Jackson released his rendition of “It Must Be Love” in 2000, he did more than revisit a country classic—he rekindled a timeless flame of romantic certainty with the quiet assurance that only a seasoned storyteller could deliver. Featured on his platinum-certified album Under the Influence, a loving tribute to the honky-tonk heroes who shaped him, Jackson’s version soared to the top of the Billboard Hot Country Singles & Tracks chart, marking his 20th number-one hit. Originally penned and performed by Don Williams in 1979—another chart-topper in its own right—Jackson’s take honored the original’s soul while subtly reinterpreting its emotional cadence for a new generation.
But chart success alone cannot account for the staying power of “It Must Be Love.” Its magic lies not in grand declarations or ornate poetics, but in its disarmingly simple premise: love is not always understood—it’s felt. And when it takes hold, the world shifts beneath your feet with inexplicable warmth and wonder.
Alan Jackson, long revered for his neo-traditionalist authenticity and unflinching reverence for country’s roots, approached this cover not as a mere stylistic homage but as an emotional inheritance. He strips back any trace of affectation to let the song’s heart beat plainly through. The arrangement is modest: steel guitar weaves softly through acoustic textures, and Jackson’s baritone—gentle as southern dusk—guides us through lyrics that paint love not as an event, but as a realization. “I can’t sleep / I can’t eat / I can’t think of anything but you,” he sings—not with desperation, but with an awestruck calm that echoes through every man who has found himself caught off guard by devotion.
This is where “It Must Be Love” transcends its deceptively light structure. The lyrics avoid drama; there are no sweeping overtures or tortured metaphors. Instead, they present love as it often is in real life: puzzling, intrusive, comforting. It appears unexpectedly and upends daily routines not with chaos, but with gentle insistence. The beauty of the song—and Jackson’s performance—lies in its understanding that love doesn’t always roar into being; sometimes it settles in silently until one morning you wake up changed.
In choosing to revisit this song at the dawn of a new millennium, Jackson offered listeners a bridge between eras—a reminder that amidst evolving sounds and shifting cultural winds, some truths remain immutable. Whether you heard it first through Don Williams’ warm drawl or Jackson’s polished timbre, “It Must Be Love” endures because it affirms what so many of us know yet struggle to articulate: when love arrives, it doesn’t need to make sense—it only needs to be felt.
And feel it we do.