Throughout his career, Parker McCollum has been known best for his unique ability to write songs that feel both oddly personal and universal, striking a chord in the hearts of listeners far and wide. Naming himself the “Limestone Kid” and the “Gold Chain Cowboy,” he has found his own style, with a rocking Texas country sound that has evolved as he has grown as an artist. With his fifth album, a self-titled project, he signs his name on it, marking this collection of songs as a true reflection of who Parker McCollum really is. Whether he’s capturing the silence of loneliness as “louder than a gun” on “Watch Me Bleed” or weaving a heartfelt tale of tragedy in “My Blue,” McCollum proves his past work doesn’t confine him—he’s defined by the rich songwriting talent that earned him his fans in the first place.
His first album, The Limestone Kid, holds a special place in the hearts of his earliest and most devoted fans. With its raw, youthful sound, it caught the attention of many, but the real standout quality of the project was in the actual writing and meaning of each track. It was clear from the beginning that McCollum had a gift for storytelling and conveying feelings, and whether they were relatable or not, they put something in your heart. As he rolled out subsequent albums, some fans grew wary of the more polished, smooth production. But a closer listen reveals that McCollum never lost sight of what mattered most—his writing. Many of the themes and messages that defined his early work continued to echo throughout his later songs. Even in songs like “Handle On You,” a more mainstream-appealing track that was included on Never Enough, he maintained the same themes of brokenness and longing while incorporating clever lyrics like, “I tell myself that I should quit, but I don’t listen to drunks,” and many others.
The first song on his new project quickly shows that The Limestone Kid’s best qualities don’t live in the past tense. “My Blue” makes a great introduction, debuting a new, almost Mayer-infused sound. Like many other tracks from the album, it includes many layers of backing vocals, adding a new element that sets the record apart from his previous releases.
As the song builds, listeners await one of McCollum’s hardest-hitting stories. It’s hard to explain what makes the track so incredible without completely spoiling it, so here’s what Parker had to say about it:
“It’s not a true story at all; in fact, I almost wanted to add in ‘I don’t even know who Jackie is’ at the end as I did in that song ‘Lucy’ from The Limestone Kid… I just started rambling and freestyling these verses, and ‘Sang him one last lullaby and put a bullet in her head’ is one of my favorite lines I’ve ever written, and it’s just a crazy ass line, especially to top off the album… The more I listened to it, the more I thought, ‘If you hear that song and you don’t get it, this record’s not for you,’ that’s the perfect way to kick off the album, but yeah, it’s all bullsh*t.”
“Sunny Days” offers yet another strong example of Parker’s compelling storytelling ability, as shown throughout this record. The song takes you through a series of memories from the mind of the narrator, who is going through a box of old photos for “one last time.” No revealing phrases or sections depict why this is the final look, leaving the reason open to interpretation and adding a quiet layer of mystery to the narrative. The gentle plea, “Mister, do you mind if I just stand here and remember all my sunny days?” completes each chorus, underscoring the bittersweet tone of the song. Along with the rest of the original tracks on the record, “Sunny Days” makes a strong case that Parker is still writing at the top of his game.
There are two cover songs on this record; with a feature from Cody Johnson, Parker includes “Good Time Charlie’s Got the Blues,” which was originally written and recorded by Danny O’Keefe in 1972. The two Texans blend together superbly, easily trading verses and lending the song a grounded, worn-in sincerity that does the classic hit justice. As for the other cover, Parker’s spin on Chris Knight’s “Enough Rope” is a brooding ballad that fits seamlessly alongside McCollum’s darker story tracks. Both songs feel like perfect choices to complement the album’s mood and message, fitting in not as detours but as essential parts of the journey.
Parker went on to explain that despite life changes—like becoming a husband and a father—his approach to writing songs hasn’t changed:
“You know, I’ve known a lot of people who have had kids, and their songwriting has changed, but for me, it’s two completely different things. I always say I’m still chasing it, still trying to make it, and I don’t think that will ever change. I think it will always be that kid in me who’s still trying to write great songs, and every time I pick up a guitar, that’s who shows up most of the time.”
One of the key factors that always seems to shift from album to album is Parker’s choice of sound. Although a return to the musical style of The Limestone Kid was highly desired by many, Parker didn’t fall back on old tactics. Much of the self-titled album carries the same free-spirited, youthful energy, but there’s so much growth and experimentation in the arrangement that comparing the two feels almost beside the point. Tracks like “New York Is On Fire” showcase the evolution of sound well, with lots of reverb and space for Parker’s voice to shine, along with layers of background vocals that fill the mix, tastefully complementing rather than competing with McCollum’s vocals. Like The Limestone Kid, this record isn’t dressed in radio-ready polish, but it also doesn’t chase simplicity. Parker’s self-titled release feels like his most honest attempt yet to create something he truly loves, giving it everything he’s got and letting the music lead the way, regardless of what the world thinks country music is supposed to sound like. With a focus on thought-provoking songwriting, this record will likely mark a new era for McCollum, leaving the “Nashville sound” behind him as he continues to create music that sounds true to who he is as an artist.
