Ohio – J.R. Carroll Written By Adam Delahoussaye
Zach Bryan’s two favorite artists to cover live are Warren Zevon and Bob Dylan, and he openly fanboys about Bruce Springsteen anytime he’s on the record. Turnpike Troubadours has been known to hammer home a hearty take of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” on stage a time or two. Now J.R. Carroll, who’s been softly retracing the massive footprints those folkie Okie predecessors have left in their wake, is entering the foray and mirroring that energy with his own personal protest anthem. His take on Neil Young’s immediate reaction to the Kent State Massacre is starkly accurate, but still far from a one-note tribute piece. As is the winning trait of repurposing any politically charged moment in music, Carroll adds real modern teeth to a piece that, at its conception, was already razor-sharp. There’s nothing lost on the singer or his accompanying band about why this track was and still is felt so fiercely. Furiously mangled guitar runs and his rail-line glide vocal register wailing on the line “what if you knew her, and found her dead on the ground” show respect for the original masterwork, while its sleek execution alludes to a disturbingly relevant purpose. With few additives to show, there’s something haunting revealed under the surface of these lyrics that are, on the most basic of levels, now historical citations: the realization that songs with only one moment in mind could be recognized in a dozen similar stomach-churning footnotes in American history 55 years later. When country music’s most widely broadcast stars shy away from paying lip service to harrowing headlines, even reiterated statements from the record books should hold some weight as a moment with real merit.
9.0
I Own This Bar – Braxton Keith Written By Adam Delahoussaye
The secret sauce for traditionalists in the confusing state of country music is striking an impossible balance between parody and professionalism. Display reverence for the craft, but don’t take yourself too seriously while doing it. Play it cool, but always know when to ham it up. Don’t ever forget who came before you, but try not to sacrifice too much of yourself in the process. The philosophy is as jumbled as the genre’s psyche, but its youngest legitimate star is unsurprisingly the one that stays on the cutting edge. In what feels like a continuation of a New Year’s resolution following January’s “I Ain’t Trying,” the Texan is back at the old barstool, this time exchanging tall tales with a pretty stranger whose résumé starts sounding too good to be true once the drinks start flowing. But, in parallel to his musical ticks, Keith is a bit of a chameleon in the speed dating scene. As the track struts along, it’s revealed that maybe his retorts aren’t as exaggerated as he lets on; that idea culminates in a glass-raising, intoxicatingly italicized final four bars and fourth-wall break during the song’s last call. Is the singer poking and prodding at classic country’s funny bone while retaining his own stoicism, or is he so confident that he makes the tightrope walk look like a prance? The answer is somewhere in his sharp but twang-drenched vocal cords, a simultaneously authentic and animated pitch somewhere between Paycheck and Midland’s Mark Wystrach. The polygraph test may scribble when Keith’s flirting, but when demonstrating his know-how in the dry-humored world of Western swing, he’s still passing with flying colors.
8.7
“Didn’t Forget” – Waylon Wyatt, Wyatt Flores Written By Aishwarya Rajan
In the somber tones of Waylon Wyatt and Wyatt Flores’s new song, the duo’s storytelling unfolds like a diary entry. It’s a story emblematic of a bittersweet tension suspended between the afterglow of a fleeting, fickle romance and the moments once adorned. The same memories of “skin” and movements are sanctified as “sin” which require sentiments reminiscent of “space” and “time alone.” Pen to paper, Wyatt and Flores begin to unravel their inner monologues, each asking, “Where do I begin?” The question yearns for remembrance, stirred by a single phone call, as they attempt to persuade the mind for whom the hurt outweighs any joy once felt. The synopsis is laid bare in the line, “The darkest part of my heart is where your sun sets,” suggesting that memories of her, are occluded by the worst of him. What once produced light now leaves only ache. Though the piece reads as anger, it’s delivered with an aching sorrow that floods the listener. A ringing pedal steel and hollowed acoustics reverberate, gradually electrifying as the song closes. This melodic foundation allows the artists to wrestle with fury and grief, posing the question: Can one really forgive if animosity lingers? While the narrative repeats itself in the cyclical nature of repetitive, churning thoughts, the pairing of pensive lyricism with Waylon’s baritone vocal cry and Wyatt’s gravel tone is one worthy of praise.
8.8
Here – Mumford & Sons (with Chris Stapleton) Written By Aishwarya Rajan
By far the weakest of the five duets on this fourteen-track album, the pairing of Mumford & Sons, with lead singer Marcus Mumford and the smooth southern timbre of Chris Stapleton, should have yielded something revelatory. Instead, it spirals into a song devoid of much depth, lyrically and melodically more puzzling still is its standing on Prizefighter. As the opening track, the simple Broadway lyricism tells a story closer to closing a chapter rather than opening a new one. While there are redeeming qualities, such as the funky guitar plucking or the slow-burning electric guitar closing the song, strung with the natural complement of their voices, these elements are fleeting. They fail to preserve the sanctity of whatever meaning the song is meant to convey, rendering the range of the song as a whole thin in almost every capacity. The lyricism only furthers the same confusing sentiment in slightly altered form and ubiquitous ideas. By the end, the “final serenade” begs more questions than answers. Who is it for? A lover? A former self? God? If the song simply serves to identify aspects that define the narrator, some as mundane as a “credit card and keys,” others as intimate as “calls I should’ve made,” it further exemplifies how bare-boned the track really is. As a closing track, these ambiguities might have carried a certain pathos, developing the full album’s concept. On its own, however, “Here” feels off-putting and a poor introduction to an album otherwise rich with character and melodically alive. From the inclusion of vocalists such as Gracie Abrams and Hozier to lyrically powerful songs including “Rubber Band” and “Alleycat” on this album, listeners could have expected a legendary song playing to the strengths of both vocalists, but this single fell short.
5.3
Go Gently Fall – Trey Hedrick Written By Joel Reuben Pauley
For followers of Country Central, listeners of the biggest country playlists, and even the most dialed-in fans of the genre, this is likely the first time you’ve come across the name Trey Hedrick. On Friday, he released his debut album, Sing, Appalachia, produced by Sean Sullivan, whose résumé includes work with Sturgill Simpson, Tyler Childers, and Cole Chaney, among many others. “Go Gently Fall” stands out immediately on the tracklist, with poetic, metaphor-laced writing that feels drawn straight from the heart. The arrangement only deepens its impact; the piano and bass move with a soft, restrained texture that feels almost fragile, creating an intimacy that’s rare and instantly memorable. Phrases like “diurnal withdrawal” and “she hangs with jesters but says they’re all kings” showcase a distinct, engaging lyrical style. It’s clear Hedrick is a forward thinker, stepping into territory that lies far outside the box of stereotypical southern “isms.” Stepping into Trey’s perspective, you begin to unravel fragments of his life story, sharing how his father lost his job in the mines and seasons marked by instability, both heartwrenching yet somehow hopeful. Those details allow the plea of “come quickly summer, go gently fall” to land with a sense of tenderness that you can feel in your soul. With a brand new album in hand, it would be easy to get lost in the rush of fresh material, but what makes Sing, Appalachia stand out is how naturally it invites you to slow down and sit with it.
9.0
That Somebody – Mason Ramsey Written By Joel Reuben Pauley
If you’ve followed Mason Ramsey’s growth over the years, you’ve seen clear shifts in his artistry, from the viral yodeling breakout to his early traditional country releases and, more recently, a more intimate and mature chapter with a stronger artistic identity. With his new single, he steps into yet another phase, embracing a modern, radio-ready sound that genuinely works. “That Somebody” leans into the polished pop country production heard in hits like “Choosin’ Texas” and “7 Summers.” Aside from a slightly overprocessed vocal, the track feels natural and easy, carrying a sense of openness as Mason tells a story of impossible love. As the title suggests, he admits he cannot be “that somebody” for the woman he loves, insisting that one day she will thank him when she finds the right person. The writing may not contain any profound complexity, but its simplicity feels sincere, as if Ramsey is working through the conflict face to face. Lines about someone who will “lasso down the moon and all of the stars” for her give the narrative a believable ache, allowing the emotion to transfer effortlessly from artist to listener. For the fans that want to see a return to “traditional” country sounds in Mason Ramsey’s catalog, this isn’t the tune to satiate that desire. However, it’s clear to see that this shift is fully natural, succinct, and a positive representation of his artistic growth.
8.4
Medicine – Megan Moroney Written By Max Buondonno
As overwhelming as a full Megan Moroney album can be with her indulgence in creating “Megan Moroney-type” songs on every project, there’s no denying she’s a lot of fun as a “singles artist.” “Medicine,” the second track from Cloud 9, is an energetic groove about an ex finally experiencing the heartache and angst she endured during their relationship. It’s a very Megan-coded song that keeps with similar revenge-rebound themes she’s covered in the past. What sets this track apart is its effortlessness; Megan sounds perfectly in-pocket here, as playful and witty as she was when we were introduced to her on 2023’s Lucky. It’s these increasingly rare occasions that Megan doesn’t sound like a broken record, which she’s struggled to avoid on full-length LPs like Cloud 9 and Am I Okay. Megan could do singles like this and not worry about releasing an album for years, but that’s clearly not what record labels, her internal team, or her fans want. She’s forced to saturate her own discography with tracks that can’t stand as tall as hallmarks like “Tennessee Orange” or “Am I Okay.” Luckily, “Medicine” doesn’t meet that fate; it has authentic charisma and charm that almost feels nostalgic for Moroney’s yesteryears, standing as one of the highlights of her latest project. Maybe she needs to ship tighter albums, because if she put 10 of these tracks on a project, it could be a smash hit.
8.1
Word On the Street – Luke Bryan Written By Max Buondonno
It’s virtually impossible not to feel disgruntled when listening to a new Luke Bryan song. After having so many catchy tracks in the beginning of his career, the later years of Bryan’s artistic journey have all felt half-baked at best. Maybe it’s because he’s balancing new business ventures, judging American Idol, and finding time to take his catalog on the road. Still, when it comes to making music, he doesn’t seem interested whatsoever. He couldn’t have possibly cared much about his latest single, “Word On The Street,” given how boring and uninspired it is lyrically. It just feels like a bad idea some writer decided to go with, clearly not expecting Luke Bryan to cut it and release it as a single. The core idea here is just another way of saying you’re drowning your sorrows in beer and are uninterested in hearing how your ex and their new partner are doing, but sung by Luke Bryan in a slightly different way than he has before. The melody and build-up are a bit less boring than some of his most recent songs, but in the end, it doesn’t serve any purpose beyond reminding you that Capital Records is still paying for studio time for him.
4.9
Country Nowadays – Lee Brice Written By Will Chapman
For an artist who spent the 2010s peddling glossy pop-country slop under a tilted fedora, Lee Brice positioning himself as the embattled guardian of rural America is… ambitious. He debuted “Country Nowadays” during the pre-recorded Turning Point USA halftime show, as if the world needed a millionaire with a chartered career to tell us how oppressed he is and how hard it is to be “country” in 2026. Spoiler: it’s not that hard. His guy is sitting in the Oval Office, country music is reaching a broader audience than ever before, and yet here comes Brice, whining about watching the news and catching his fish. The only thing stopping him from catching his fish isn’t the radical left but rather his own fishing ability. For someone whose “I Drive Your Truck” honors soldiers who never came home, this song is a shallow, startling fall from grace. Everything he lists, the grass to cut, the games to watch, the prayers to pray, is fully within his reach, yet he still frames himself as a victim of the culture war. The song’s politically lazy framing and thinly veiled virtue-signaling reduce country music fans to a cartoonish stereotype of embattled small-town, room-temperature IQ American hicks, all while turning serious social issues into a punchline. By overplaying culture-war grievance for personal relevance, Brice actively sets the public perception of country music back at least 25 years. “Country Nowadays” is a divisive, regressive misstep from an artist who knows better, or at least should.
1.7
