From the very outset of his career in the Nashville music scene, Parker McCollum distinguished himself as more than just another aspiring artist navigating the complex machinery of Music Row. He possesses undeniable talent that positions him as a genuine breakout star. McCollum’s first four singles released through MCA Nashville achieved remarkable success, each soaring to the top of the Billboard and Mediabase country airplay charts. Notably, his 2020 single “Pretty Heart” achieved platinum status, further solidifying his place in the industry. In an era marked by increasing country music homogenization, Texas artists like McCollum offer a refreshing difference, showcasing a unique sound and perspective. His musical inspirations include legendary figures from Texas-brewed Americana music, coupled with a strong admiration for George Strait, connecting him to the heart of the genre.

“I’ve never once sat down and thought, ‘Man, I’m going to try to write a hit’ or ‘I’m going to try to write a song that will be on the radio,’” McCollum declares, a bold statement in an industry where many artists admit to harboring a slight mercenary streak. “I’m just fortunate that some of the songs I’ve penned have resonated with listeners and found success at radio. It’s certainly beneficial and not a bad thing at all, but it was never my intention.” He stands firm in his artistic integrity, stating, “You won’t hear me adopting the most familiar modern clichés: ‘I was never going to write pickup truck and beer songs.’”

The 33-year-old native of Austin, Texas has released a highly anticipated new album this weekend, aptly titled “Parker McCollum.” This self-titled album reflects his confidence in capturing the essence of his artistry with this third release for MCA, marking his fifth album overall, including two independent projects from the mid-2010s. This project marks his first collaboration with producer Frank Liddell, renowned for his role in launching Miranda Lambert’s early career. Liddell’s wife, Lee Ann Womack, and their daughter, Aubrie Sellers, who is also part of McCollum’s touring band as a backing vocalist, lend their talents to this album, enriching its texture and appeal.

During a recent visit to Los Angeles, McCollum engaged in a candid discussion with Variety about this impressive new album. He shared insights into his love for artists such as Chris Knight, Rodney Crowell, and Guy Clark, and expressed his willingness to explore creative avenues that may not necessarily keep him at the top of the charts but resonate authentically with his artistic vision.

As an artist who has emerged with significant credibility, you didn’t necessarily face a major leap to make, but it seems that with this album, you aimed to create something that aligns more closely with what your heroes might be doing. Is that accurate?

Absolutely. I wanted to deeply explore what I was made of. There was a time when I felt incredibly comfortable with my creative process, almost like everything was on autopilot, and I knew the routine and how it was going to unfold. I really wanted to challenge myself and step outside of that comfort zone. I had written several songs that I genuinely believed in, which is unusual for me since I often doubt the quality of my work. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a country singer, but as I’ve progressed and released more music, I’ve started to question whether it truly sounds like country music from my perspective. That’s completely okay. I don’t have a clear understanding of what I sound like, what I am, or what I’m meant to be. I’m choosing to stop worrying about it and simply embrace whatever it is that I do sound like, presenting it in its most raw, real, and authentic form.

This time, you collaborated with a new creative team, including Frank Liddell as your producer, after previously working with Jon Randall on your earlier albums for Universal. How did this shift impact your work?

Frank Liddell, the producer for this record, along with engineer Eric Masse, were incredibly supportive of my desire to explore any creative direction I wanted to pursue. Frank was the first producer who ever said to me, “Hey, you’re really talented, and you need to walk into that studio acting like it.” That really resonated with me, as it’s not my usual demeanor. During the one week we spent recording in New York, he kept reminding me, “Hey, you’re really good. Act like it.” Each morning, I would enter the studio with that mantra in mind, thinking, “I’m really good! I’m going to own it.” However, once I left the studio, I often reverted to self-doubt. But for that week, it worked wonders. It was interesting to let my guard down and just embrace the notion that whatever I create is valid.

Reflecting on your first two major-label albums, do you feel satisfaction with them, or do you think there was something missing?

No, I genuinely loved those albums. I’ve always aspired to achieve sonic perfection in my music. When I listen to a George Strait album or a John Mayer album, and they sound incredibly polished, I’ve always wanted to hear myself that way. I aimed to sign with a major label and record in large studios with significant budgets to achieve a clear sonic quality. While I wasn’t necessarily trying to escape that with this record, Frank, Eric, and I discussed how we wanted to approach this project, and they emphasized the importance of simply being myself. Whatever I am or whatever I’m meant to be, I should embrace that fully. I shouldn’t strive to be just a “country singer” but rather focus on being Parker McCollum. The real me is not sonically perfect, and I’m okay with that.

You initially started working on another album with Jon Randall producing but then decided to abandon that to pursue this new direction with Liddell, correct?

Yes, we recorded about half of an album, but it felt too similar to the previous project. What Jon Randall and I were creating sounded fantastic, but I didn’t feel like I was evolving or pushing myself to the next level. I was too comfortable, and I don’t think that’s always conducive to creating great art and writing songs that resonate with people. My favorite songs are the ones that genuinely move me deep within. I felt that the only way to achieve that was to strip everything back and start anew, focusing entirely on the process. In New York, with Frank, I presented a more focused and aware version of myself. While I didn’t know what I wanted to create at that time, I understood what I didn’t want to do. With Frank, there were no limits to what we were willing to explore, and I believe you can hear that in the album.

Were you a fan of any of Liddell’s productions that inspired you to reach out to him?

Yes, he produced a Chris Knight album, which was the first Chris Knight record I ever heard. There’s a song on that album called “Framed,” which was the first song I learned to sing and play on guitar back when I was in seventh grade. I knew if Frank Liddell could recognize the artistry in Chris Knight and wanted to produce his work, he might understand my music at least to some extent. His belief in me was incredibly motivating.

Many might find it hard to believe you’ve struggled with self-doubt, especially considering your success with multiple No. 1 hits, which is undoubtedly validating. So where does that disbelief stem from?

Nothing makes you doubt your abilities more than stepping into the studio and hearing your work played back. I’ve never considered myself a particularly good singer, songwriter, or guitar player. Frank, however, disagreed completely. He would say, “You are a really talented songwriter, a great singer, and an excellent guitar player.” Those affirmations were enough for me to reconsider my self-doubt. Finding a producer willing to explore creative avenues on a major label with a significant budget, who isn’t concerned about external opinions, is rare. Frank is not worried about pleasing anyone; he is focused on maximizing the potential of each song. During our time in New York, that atmosphere allowed me to feel similarly liberated.

Are the songs on this version of the album the same ones you started to record with Jon Randall?

There were only a couple of songs that I recorded with Jon Randall which made it onto this album…

So were the remaining songs material that you had in the works but hadn’t considered for the initial attempt at the album?

Exactly. Additionally, there was one song we wrote called “New York Is On Fire” that we composed on the second day in the studio at 9 o’clock in the morning. Initially, I absolutely hated it; I thought it was the worst thing I had ever created. However, by the end of the week, I realized, “Holy cow, this is one of the best songs on the album.” That transformation was entirely thanks to Frank. He encouraged us to keep playing it, and it was mind-numbing how many times we recorded that song. When we listened back to it on the seventh day, it felt magical. Interestingly, the oldest song on the album is one I wrote when I was 15, titled “Eternal Headphones.” So, it’s kind of cool that my oldest song and my newest song are back-to-back on this album.

Which songs on this album are you most proud of?

I don’t think there’s a single song on this album that doesn’t mean a lot to me. Each track has its own unique sound. From start to finish, the album feels almost cinematic if you listen to it in its entirety. When the project was completed and sent to the record label, I ensured that it was a cohesive experience, so they couldn’t just pick a single track to listen to; they had to engage with the entire album, as that’s how it was designed. Each song possesses its own identity, which I feel is not often heard in contemporary country music. Many artists have a hit and then try to replicate it, but I’ve never operated that way. I believe this album is likely the best I’ll ever create.

There are significant changes happening at your label, MCA, formerly UMG Nashville. Did that concern you?

I don’t really worry about that stuff too much. They will do what they do, and I have to focus on my own path. However, several individuals who have been there for two decades have remarked, “This is the best album this label has seen since I’ve been here.” Each of them knows me well enough that they wouldn’t say that lightly. I can tell when someone is just blowing smoke, and I believed them. That feedback surprised me because while I was in New York, I thought, “The record label is going to be upset. They’re going to be furious when they hear this.” Instead, it was the complete opposite. It felt like a breath of fresh air for them to have an album that was so complete, honest, raw, and unique—something that didn’t sound like anything else out there.

I feel this album captures me at my most sincere and vulnerable state. As I was thinking, “They’re going to be so angry; they’re going to feel like they wasted half a million dollars,” it was refreshing to see them so on board. One of the top executives at MCA texted me this morning, saying, “Yo, this is the best album I’ve ever worked on at this label.” While that might jinx it, I don’t care. I believe it’s the record I always questioned if I was capable of making, so I can stand behind it no matter the numbers or performance metrics.

Do you think everyone involved on the business side fully understood and accepted your independent streak?

When I signed my deal, I was very clear: “I’ll only sign this contract if you promise that I can create what I want to create, write what I want to write, and record what I want to record, end of story.” They agreed, and they have upheld that promise without exception. Having my first four singles reach No. 1 and achieve platinum status certainly makes it easier for them to honor that commitment. I’m sure if things weren’t going well, the story might be different. However, I’m the one who has to stand on that stage and perform them every night, and they can sign another artist if it doesn’t work out for me. It’s reassuring to know they have my back.

Was there something specific about recording in New York instead of Nashville that you believe influenced the album?

Recording in New York allowed everyone to focus intensely. No one had to leave to pick up their kids at five o’clock, and the label wasn’t dropping by. We faced no distractions. I didn’t visit any bars or restaurants during my stay. I went straight from my hotel room to the studio and back every day, completely intentional. I wanted to be there in late fall when the trees were changing colors, which inspired the idea for “New York Is on Fire” when I flew in and saw Central Park glowing orange. Everyone involved felt part of something greater than ourselves, and the heightened focus was undoubtedly enhanced by the lack of distractions we would have faced in Nashville.

It’s tough to feel like a rock star when you have to pick up your kids at five o’clock, right? In New York, I felt like I was somebody in that city. It’s amusing because you could be the most famous person in the world and walk down the street without anyone batting an eye. Nevertheless, there’s something about being in that city that gives me a little extra pep in my step and a buzz of excitement.

Do you recommend that approach to artists in country music who are accustomed to recording in the traditional Nashville way?

Absolutely! My first two independent albums were recorded in a similar manner—just five, six, or seven days of intensive studio work, fully focused. However, once I signed my deal, I was touring extensively, and everything was moving so quickly. I would drop into the studio on a Tuesday to record a few songs, then come back months later to cut a few more. By the end of the year, I would think, “Alright, we need to put an album out. What have we recorded?” Nothing really felt cohesive or had a distinct identity. I don’t think I will ever stray from recording this way. This will be my approach for as long as I pursue this career.

One of the songs on this album mentions Guy Clark, John Prine, and Rodney Crowell, differing from the usual references to Johnny and June or other typical artists.

I’ve always been apprehensive about name-dropping artists in my songs, preferring to avoid it. However, while writing the song “Solid Country Gold,” it felt entirely appropriate to do so. During the writing process, I thought, “Yeah, it seems this song wants that, doesn’t it?” The song reflects on how things used to be, the times we miss, and those cherished memories that shine brightly in our minds. The records of those artists were what I listened to back then, and when I reminisce about those days, it’s their songs that transport me back. So, I felt comfortable name-dropping those legends, just this once.

I’m curious about how you encountered some of your musical influences because, being a ‘90s kid, it’s surprising that an artist as young as you has such strong ties to these classic artists.

It’s all thanks to my older brother, who is six years my senior. During his high school years, he was deeply into Rodney Crowell, and in college, he explored artists like Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle, and James McMurtry. The list goes on and on. I was just the younger brother captivated by everything he thought was cool and worthwhile. When I was in seventh and eighth grade, there wasn’t anyone my age who knew who Guy Clark or John Prine or Steve Earle were; they’d never even heard of them. I was just obsessed. This also includes artists like Todd Snider, Hayes Carll, Chris Knight, and Robert Earl Keen. I aspired to be like them since my brother did, and I became infatuated with these raw Americana songwriters from a young age. I’m still trying to write songs like those guys today, and it all stems from his influence.

Even being six years older than you, that still seems young to have such a passion for that music.

You know, I really don’t know how he discovered who they were, but he was very certain about what constituted good music and who the talented songwriters were. If he said they were cool, they were definitely cool.

Did you reach this point without ever grappling with the thought, “I need to be a No. 1 country star, so I have to leave some of these influences behind and play a different game?”

No, I was never going to write pickup truck and beer songs. Those songs have never resonated with me or held any significance. I don’t believe I could stand on stage and sing them, and I was never going to write them. One thing my older brother instilled in me from a young age was, “You have to live the songs that you write.” I probably took that a bit too seriously during my early twenties. However, even when I signed a major record deal, I was determined to continue writing great songs that I genuinely believed in.

To be honest, the only change was the production style (which I wanted!). I wanted to hear what I sounded like with that type of production, and it worked out wonderfully. However, I found myself asking, “What’s next? What do I do now?” That questioning led me to create this current album.

“What Kind of Man” served as the lead single off this album. There’s a quote in the promotional materials where you mention that this song reflects a version of yourself from when you were younger. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

Well, I might have just been talking nonsense. You know, I’ve never sat down to write a song about any specific thing or person. Often, I’ll get into a melody, and there are definitely experiences, people, places, or things I’ve done that find their way into the melody and the song. With “What Kind of Man,” I was just sitting around, and I sang the line, “Look at that. I stayed up all night again,” which was something I used to do all the time. I remember writing that first verse and chorus while alone at home, never thinking it would become a single or anything significant.

I knew the label wanted to release another track to radio, and that song, along with “Hope That I’m Enough,” were the only two we had recorded at that time. I was really pushing for “Hope That I’m Enough” to be the single because I thought it was such an incredible song. However, for radio purposes, testing, and tempo considerations, “What Kind of Man” was the easier choice for them. But I have never sat down and thought, “Man, I’m going to try to write a hit” or “I’m going to try to write a song that will be on the radio.” That thought has never crossed my mind while writing a song. I’m just fortunate that some of the songs I’ve written have been able to find success at radio. It’s definitely helped, and it’s not a bad thing, but it was never my intention.

So you never start with the lyrics?

The melody typically shapes the concept. The melody kind of dictates the song’s direction… For instance, with “Killin’ Me” on this album—once I started singing that melody, it felt slow and sultry, and there was no doubt about what that song was meant to convey. I don’t think that melody could serve any other idea than: up against the bedroom wall, getting naked, and naughty.

All the melodies I’ve come up with seem to arrive at their destination on their own. I never overthink: “What is this song about?” I don’t desire a roadmap; I don’t want to guide them from point A to point B. It doesn’t necessarily have to make sense. In Nashville, many songwriters want to outline everything clearly. They want it to be straightforward, and it has to make sense. But it’s perfectly fine if it doesn’t. That’s not to say it can’t be or won’t be, but it’s okay if it doesn’t. You know, let them figure out what they want it to be about.

Do you have any writing collaborators who are part of the Music Row writing community? Do you feel that you excel in typical writers’ room scenarios?

No, I don’t thrive in co-writing situations. For songs like “Hoping I’m Enough” and “What Kind of Man,” I typically bring a verse and the chorus to the table, saying, “Hey, I have a verse and the chorus; let’s write a second verse.” After that, I’m out. I don’t enjoy co-writing, and I don’t think I do it well. However, in those instances, I already had a melody; I had a verse and a chorus—I just needed to finish the song, which allows me to exit the co-write quickly.

You recently had a conversation with Miranda Lambert, and she praised your work. You collaborated with her on her most recent album.

Yes, I worked on her recent album “Postcards from Texas,” specifically on a track called “Santa Fe.” I genuinely believe she is one of the greatest artists to ever grace the industry. A couple of weeks ago, she called me in tears after I sent her the album. She listened to it and exclaimed, “Holy fucking shit.” Receiving a call like that from someone whose work you respect and whose opinion you value so much—someone who understands great albums and exceptional songwriting—was a remarkable experience.

We’ve discussed the influences of Chris Knight, Rodney Crowell, and Guy Clark in your music. But you also talk about George Strait. Beyond just the Texas connection, what role does George Strait play in your artistic journey?

For me, I aspire to be the next George Strait off the stage. His career is remarkable—exceptionally humble, quiet, and scandal-free, with no public drama. He has maintained a long career filled with great songs. He’s consistent and has conducted himself well for decades in an industry that sees many artists come and go. He has remained 100% true to himself, and I find that incredibly rare. I can’t think of another artist who has sustained that integrity for so long. That’s where I draw inspiration and try to emulate his qualities: he’s just a good old boy who happens to be the king of country music.

And do you feel you have a solid understanding of that path?

I’m working on it. It’s a long journey ahead.