Music

In the title track to Justin Moore’s new album, Stray Dog (out Friday via Valory Music Co.), Moore describes himself as an artist more inclined to “put my money on the dark horse,” a guy who “don’t apologize for who I ain’t or who I am.”

That defiantly stubborn ethos and clear-eyed vision has guided Moore to a string of 10 Billboard Country Airplay chart-toppers since he released his debut album in 2009. Along the way, Moore has approached his career on his own terms: He and his family have resided in Arkansas for the past 13 years, and even as Nashville weathered the “bro-country” era of the past decade, Moore forged a reputation as an undeviating country traditionalist, thanks to hits like “Somebody Else Will” and his most recent chart-topper, “With a Woman You Love.”

“Not by design at all, but from the beginning of my career, I’ve been dubbed an outlier or a bit of an outlaw,” Moore says, speaking to Billboard via Zoom from his home office in Arkansas. ”I don’t really know why. In the middle of my career, when the rap-country and the pop-country stuff became popular, that’s just not what I do. We just made a conscious decision that I’m gonna do what I do and let the chips fall where they may. Thankfully, radio stuck with us when that was a major trend and now it’s kind of cycled back to a more traditional sound. But for me to go out there and chase something just because it’s popular, my fans would be like, ‘Dude, that ain’t you.’”

As artists from Morgan Wallen to Zach Bryan release albums packed with dozens of tracks, Moore has run toward the contrary: Stray Dog, like his 2021 album Straight Outta the Country, offers a comparatively scant eight tracks. Moore, who is managed by L3 Entertainment, says he’s had multiple discussions with his team, weighing the piling on of dozens of songs, versus issuing abbreviated albums.

“That’s not to say in the future we won’t put a 40-song album out there; I just let people a lot smarter than me and in much higher places than me determine what they feel is the best way,” he says.

One thing Moore’s traditional-minded sound and near-dozen No. 1s haven’t brought him is awards recognition, beyond an ACM Awards new artist of the year win in 2014 and a CMT Music Awards nomination a year later.

“We’ve never had to be a part of a lot of awards shows or anything. It’s like we’re sometimes just nonexistent,” he says. But he adds that he’s content with it: “When I was in my mid-20s, it bothered me. That’s human nature. But now I’m almost 40 years old and I’m thankful to have the career I have. I don’t really think about that stuff — I’m thankful I don’t have to wear a suit,” he laughs. “You control what you can control and let go of the rest. I did that a lot of years ago and I’ve been much more at peace.”

Billboard caught up with Moore to discuss his collaborations on the album with Priscilla Block and Riley Green, taking influence from a 50 Cent album, and his songwriting process for the new album.

Riley Green appears on “Everybody Get Along,” which is essentially about two men — both hunters, NASCAR fans and country music lovers — who quibble about inconsequential differences. How did Riley come to be part of this track?

We met maybe eight years ago. We had mutual friends and I was familiar with his career even before he signed a record deal, because I had some friends from his neck of the woods. Before we did this song, he actually shared a photo of himself in my meet-and-greet line from like 15 years ago. It made me feel old, but it was funny. The irony in the song is that these two guys are exactly alike and what they are fighting over is petty stuff. But he and I see life through the same lens, for the most part.

Near the end of “Everybody Get Along,” there’s a reference to the 1979 Waylon Jennings and Hank Williams Jr. classic “The Conversation.”

The majority of the time, you’re not in the studio together when you record a duet. But for this, were able to record it together, and it was one of those spur-of-the-moment type songs that I wish we had more opportunities to do. He did a great job, which I knew he would. It’ll be fun if we get a chance to perform it live together.

What artists have you looked up to, in terms of doing things your own way?

Waylon, Willie, Merle, those guys. Dwight Yoakam is my favorite artist of all time, and nobody’s more unique than him. I don’t know [that] anybody — outside of his idol Buck Owens — has done his type of sound right, prior to then or since.

“Get Rich or Drunk Trying” obviously draws on an album title from 50 Cent.

I’ve had that title for like five or six years. When I was in high school, 50 Cent had that album out called Get Rich or Die Tryin’. I just thought, “Man that’s a terrible alternative to not getting rich. Getting drunk would be a better alternative.” I had thrown that title out probably six or seven times at previous writing sessions and it didn’t take. But in this session with Casey [Beathard], Paul [DiGiovanni] and Jeremy [Stover], everybody jumped on it. We’ve been playing it live. I don’t know if we’ll release it as a single at some point, but some of these songs become hits during our live shows without being on the radio.

Your collaboration with Priscilla Block, “You, Me, and Whiskey,” is at No. 19 on the Country Airplay chart currently. How did that come about?

I met her a few years ago at an acoustic round benefiting St. Jude. She stole the show, to be honest. I was so impressed that I introduced myself after the show and said, ‘I don’t know what I could ever do for you, but I’m more than happy to help because I’m a fan,’ and we exchanged numbers. A few months after that, I heard this song and right away, I thought it would be cool to get her on the song. Luckily, she said yes. She’s a star; she can sing, writes great songs and she’s great with an audience — and that’s something you either have or you don’t.

On your 2021 album, Straight Outta the Country, you co-wrote two songs. With Stray Dog, you are a writer on all but one song. Do you get a chance to write on the road, or do you mostly prefer writing retreats?

I don’t prefer writing on the road. We’ve been doing it more writers’ retreat style, between tour dates and things. I tend to be more creative in that environment; when I’m on the road, there’s always something that needs to be handled or taken care of. With writers’ retreats, I can get away from the industry side of things and just be creative.

You wrote most of the songs on this album a few years ago. What music are you working on now?

We’ve had this album ready to go for a little while. That’s kind of been my pattern. I have another album ready to go, even beyond this one. We have the songs written — I went down to Florida a few months ago with my producer and two or three writers — but we have to get into the studio. The goal is to keep putting out new music as frequently as we can, as long as we keep staying ahead of it.

Outside of music, you also have your sports radio show in Little Rock, as well as The Justin Moore Podcast. Do you have a bucket list guest you would like to have on your podcast?

We are gearing up for the new season of the podcast now. I would love to have Dwight [Yoakam] on. We’ve played shows together over the years and he’s really been kind to me. He’s an interesting, bright guy.

Three singles from the album Cracked Rear View made Hootie & the Blowfish one of the defining groups of the mid-1990s.

The band’s crossover success also made Darius Rucker an improbable country singer. Many artists attempt to transition into country from other genres, but few are able to turn it into an actual second career. Thus, Rucker’s debut on the May 3, 2008, edition of Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart with “Don’t Think I Don’t Think About It” was the beginning of a run that has reached a remarkable length.

“Fifteen years,” he mulls. “That’s crazy.”

Rucker’s latest single — “Fires Don’t Start Themselves,” which Capitol Nashville released to country radio via PlayMPE on March 30 — extends his presence while recalling his first go-’round as a frontman. Some of his ad-libs in the new single lean on unresolved blue notes, creating a tone and texture that reflects his Hootie days — particularly “Let Her Cry” — more than any of his previous country singles. The production simultaneously recalls the sound of ’90s country. Cumulatively, it’s as if the Blowfish were covering “Party Crowd.”

“Even when it was a demo, you could feel the ’90s thing,” says Rucker of “Fires.”

It incorporates some other influences, too. There’s a reference to ’70s and ’80s icon Conway Twitty in the chorus, and the verses scrape a rich, low area of Rucker’s voice that he associates with a fellow South Carolinian.

“Every time I sing it now with the band, I say to myself, ‘I’m Josh Turner,’ ” Rucker notes. “The song is just so cool, and to start off real low like that is not something I do very often.”

“Fires” ignited some time in 2022 in a last-minute fit of inspiration, as songwriter Ben Hayslip (“I Lived It,” “When She Says Baby”) arrived at the studio of Jacob Rice for an appointment that included Dan Isbell (“Better Together,” “The Kind of Love We Make”). Hayslip had spent his entire 35-minute drive brainstorming for an idea, but had nothing as he turned off the engine.

“I get out my truck, and I’m walking down the sidewalk,” he remembers. “Soon as I hit the steps to walk up to Jacob’s building — this never happens — but the title ‘Fires Don’t Start Themselves’ literally popped into my head out of the blue. I had no idea where it came from.”

Hayslip and his co-writers didn’t know exactly where it might go, but they thought it was worth chasing. They hit a midtempo groove and wrote the chorus first, working toward the hook with Rice building the musical track while the other two drove the lyric. A phrase from that chorus, “Pull the Conway off of the shelf,” was designed to emphasize the sound of romance, but it also extended Hayslip’s history with the Country Music Hall of Famer — Twitty was previously name-checked in Hayslip’s songs “Honey Bee” (recorded by Blake Shelton) and “I Can Take It From There” (Chris Young).

The group was temporarily stumped by the setup line, though Hayslip came up with “We’re holding the lighter.” It’s a phrase that could easily sound like “holding the ladder,” particularly since those words are already used in conjunction with cleaning gutters. “I was worried about that when we wrote it,” admits Hayslip. “I put that out there, and they loved it.”

To create some variation, they pitched the opening verse in a lower register and set up the characters as a couple in need of some alone time. As the melody edged upward, the first verse’s penultimate line, “Making that temperature rise,” mimicked the music’s ascendance.

“I’ll pretend that that was intentional,” Isbell quips. “That is part of the magic of songwriting and actually getting a song cut. Occasionally, those little, little pieces fit together and help sell it a little bit more than usual.”

They included space for an instrumental solo with a punchy, syncopated rhythmic change of pace, plus a short bridge. And Rice finished the demo after the other two left, throwing in enough real guitars on top of the programmed percussion to create that ’90s vibe.

Shelton — who has covered Twitty’s “Goodbye Time” and referenced him in at least two of his singles — was the first artist approached with “Fires,” though it was Rucker who ultimately connected with it, in part because of his own appreciation for Twitty. Rucker was known to perform “Hello Darlin’” informally in his younger days.

“My Conway thing is always seeing him on Hee Haw,” says Rucker. “Hee Haw was so big for me. He was just one of those guys that when they’d say, ‘Conway Twitty,’ I was excited that he was going to be on. He’s a legend, even when I was a kid.”

Rucker called on producer Dann Huff (Kane Brown, Keith Urban) to direct “Fires” during a three-song session that also included a cover of Rihanna’s “Lift Me Up.” Huff emphasized the ’90s roots of “Fires” even more than the demo had suggested.

“I played sessions during the ’90s, so I kind of know the landscape,” he says. “To be true to that, I had to make sure that I didn’t overstep into a type of production that takes away from that live feeling on the floor. There should be a bit of recklessness about it, and also, not too pristine, you know. I mean, in every respect, the parts shouldn’t sound like everybody’s rehearsed this thing for a month.”

Bassist Mark Hill punctuated the recording with active accents in key spaces, and fiddler Stuart Duncan split the solo section with electric guitar, fighting against the syncopated chords. “I tend to like his fiddle playing when it resembles the recklessness of a rock guitar,” says Huff. “I do remember humming and doing air fiddle to work with Stuart and give him some [ideas], but I don’t give him too much because he always makes it better than what you suggest.”

Rucker easily tackled the lead vocal during overdubs at Huff’s home studio. “Dann was really laid back and real cool and complimentary to work with it,” Rucker says. “And then, when he sent me the first mixes, I went, ‘Holy shit.’ ”

The writers had a similar response, in part because Rucker provided a certain amount of fulfillment for their ’90s-style effort. “My 40-year-old self was excited about getting a Darius Rucker cut, but my 12- and 15-year-old self was screaming from the rooftops,” says Isbell. “I’m pretty excited about that.”