First Listen: Luke Bell, Drake Milligan, McCoy Moore and the Country Albums You Need To Hear This Week

This week’s roundup spotlights the bold new country releases that landed on Friday — from the wonderful posthumous collection of Luke Bell and the slick honky-tonk of rising star Drake Milligan to the sparkling debut of McCoy Moore. We’ll give you first-listens to the albums you need to hear, setting the scene for fresh voices and legacy moments alike in the world of country music.

After listening to all of this week's new releases, the Holler staff have their say:

There’s something about the skies in the West that just feel different to anywhere else - in the morning they encompass a million and one different colours, and at night they close in a brand new arrangement. They reach further than imaginable, from North to South, East to West, they blanket everything underneath them and, yet, you still can’t see the edges.

That’s how Luke Bell was, his emotions went one step further than the norm in every direction, and there was no knowing just how far they could go. On The King is Back, he reaches out to each point of that emotional compass and, whether in his unease, pain, or joy, he paints them all with the most breathtakingly real colours.

Recorded across the three years in which Bell’s career peaked, The King is Back is an impressive collection of tracks that were made to be shared. For Bell, these could’ve been B-Sides, songs that didn’t make the tracklist, or make the cut as singles. But for country music, they’re proof that living life authentically and carving it into art places you on a higher plain - no one could compete.

Bell’s music is rooted in normality, and his blue collar anthems are as good as ever - from roofers to riders, ranchers to musicians, that resilient strength running through the album’s groundwork comes in bluesy, gritty waves of intention and integrity every time. Across ups and downs, he maintains a movement that, on reflection, feels premonitionary. At face value, it feels like it would be delivered with a shrug and a smirk; “Look away little sweetheart/ Don’t you cry until after I’m gone/ I’d tell you that I’m sorry if I was/ But honey, you know that I’m not” he sings across the honkytonk two step of ‘I’m Not’.

A track like ‘Horse Flies’ is almost so understated that you could miss it, especially in the midst of a collection so repeatedly impressive. But the song - set in Bell’s western world - solidifies his talent as a thinker, writer, artist and human. “I wanna go places that I never saw/ I wanna feel winter, spring, summer and fall” he laments, desiring the magnitude of the mundane.

Luke didn't back away from being human. That characteristic runs through the album, whether it be through the unbridled whimsy of ‘Orangutang,’ his signature charm on ‘Daydream Blues’, shameless confidence on ‘The Party Song’, or the sultry mysticism on ‘River’. Bell knew how to match each experience with the right sound. The traditional country he knew so well is heard with each cry of pedal steel; his time in New Orleans pulls the occasional creole feel into the mix; and the quiet intimacy of ‘On Our Own’ reminds us simply of him. Just Luke on a porch step, guitar in hand.

If anything, at 28 tracks, the album might be a little overwhelming to experience in one go. But the alternative would be to divide up a collection of work that encompasses who Bell was across those years. It would separate the man from his mind, and for Bell, that wasn’t a possibility. For that reason, at 28 tracks, every song is worth its time.

The King is Back is alive: distinctly, honestly and entirely. Bell’s life was short and he suffered with a pain darker than most could ever understand, yet his willing embrace of emotion is instilled in his music.

This album is not just a testament to an artist at his prime, it’s a testament to a man who, through it all, was observant - observant of himself, the people around him, and the places in which he existed.

Rating: 9/10

The Florida native’s new record feels like a slow exhale, a reflective, back-porch confession that finds comfort in simplicity and truth. It’s less about radio polish and more about storytelling; the kind that leans on lived-in moments, late-night thoughts, and the ache of remembering what once felt easy.

Musically, Dreams to Dream is classic country at its core. It’s laced with steel guitar, gentle acoustic strums, and an understated warmth that calls back to the genre’s golden era. But what keeps it from sounding nostalgic is Owen’s modern restraint. His voice, mellow yet full of gravity, sits low and steady, carrying the kind of weight that comes with experience. It’s a record that feels less like a performance and more like a late-night conversation.

Songs like “Long Time Lovin’ You” ache with the longing for simpler times, for the days of a nine-to-five, and of knowing your place in the world before ambition and chaos set in. “So Long, LA” has that same campfire intimacy Zach Bryan has mastered, smoky and tender, while “The Jukebox Knows”, featuring Jamey Johnson, brings spoken word into the mix;  a bold, timeless touch that feels like a story passed down across generations.

Produced with intention and space, Dreams to Dream doesn’t chase grandeur, it leans into honesty. Each track unfolds like a page from a worn journal, full of quiet realizations and personal peace. It’s Jake Owen at his most grounded: a man looking back not with regret, but with reverence for how far he’s come.

Rating: 8.5/10

For those not well versed in botanical vernacular, a tumbleweed is a rounded, tangled plant that detaches from its roots and rolls with the wind, scattering seeds as it goes. Beginning as an ordinary seedling, it stiffens and blooms in summer before drying into a brash skeleton by fall. In that state, it becomes a lasting emblem of the Old West, standing shoulder to shoulder with the cactus and the cowboy alike.

One can imagine the tremendous sights, sounds, and terrains a tumbleweed encounters throughout its restless journey, a true marvel of Western nature. That vision alone makes Drake Milligan’s sophomore collection of the same name all the more disappointing. Instead of rolling forward and transforming with hard-earned wisdom, it feels as though he has regressed back to seedling form once again.

Produced by frequent collaborator Trent Willmon, the fourteen tracks on Tumbleweed offer a Disney-fied version of Western culture, built on lyrical development that leans not into fields of gritty, neon dreams but into a landscape of homogenized clichés.

The dynamic spark once lit on Milligan’s Jukebox Songs, with infectious earworms like “I’ve Got a Problem” and the classic-leaning “Don’t Leave Me Loving You,” has dimmed. Though this is more a material concern, Willmon’s precise touch still orchestrates gorgeous Western swing melodies, and Milligan’s best-in-class baritone continues to impress. Yet neither talent quite manages to deglaze this saccharine collection.

“I’ve got one, you’ve got one. I like yours, you like mine. So baby don’t you think it's time?” Milligan sings on “Hearts Together,” which delivers nearly three minutes of what the kids might call cringe.

On “Old Flames, Old Whiskey,” the team seems to have pieced together a collage of drinking-song mythology from the scraps on the songwriting floors of George Strait and Luke Bryan alike. Even Milligan sounds unconvinced of which of the two “makes your head feel dizzy” or “makes your heart feel all day long.”

Similarly, “Lonely:30” offers another concept that should have stayed in the ideation phase, though Milligan works overtime to sell the clock stuck on—yes—“lonely:30.”

Standing among fine traditionalists like Zach Top and Jake Worthington, Milligan finds himself at a creative crossroads. One path leads toward the bright lights of further reality television and celebrity polish, while the other could earn him the notoriety and critical prestige he deserves.

His remarkable talent is worthy of the latter, and as a true fan, I hope he rolls in that direction.

Rating: 4/10

Picking up the guitar for the first time after meeting Luke Combs seven years ago, McCoy Moore has been quietly building his presence in the country music landscape.

Now, it’s time for his voice to be truly heard with the release of his self-titled debut EP. Four tracks have been released already and three are brand new, each as good as the last.

The classic country influences are clear on tracks like ‘John Deere Blue’ along with the Jimmy Buffet / Kenny Chesney beach country sound on the fun toe tapper ‘Naming Boats’. The previously unreleased ‘Dress Rehearsal’ is a vibey upbeat number with the sort of melodic guitar riff that Luke Combs would be proud of.

A stand out, don’t skip, sit up and listen track has to be the first on the EP, ‘Something To You’. It’s got a Scotty McCreery catchiness to it with it's immediate sing-a-long chorus, “everything’s just something / til it’s something to you”.

McCoy has dished out a quintessentially country EP. In seven songs, he’s covered tractors, boats, drinking, the bible and heartbreak. He’s only really missing a song about hunting. It’s a solid project that puts McCoy on the map as an artist to watch.

Rating: 8/10

In one of his final interviews, Merle Haggard was asked, “What makes Willie Nelson wild?” His response was classic Haggard: “Well, his disposition. He caters to no one except the people he wants to. He’s just his own man, always has been. And so am I.”

That kind of understanding and appreciation is one of many signifiers of the deep, genuine friendship between the two legends—a bond that spanned decades and produced three collaborative albums: 1983’s Pancho and Lefty, 2007’s Last of the Breed, and 2015’s Django and Jimmie.

To say that Willie Nelson never slows down would be an understatement. Over the past two decades, his catalog has focused not only on showcasing his own new material, but on finding remarkable ways to honor a legion of fellow artists, including Harlan Howard and Rodney Crowell. It feels fitting, then, that on his seventy-eighth solo studio album, Nelson would choose to pay tribute to his fellow “wild man” and longtime friend Merle Haggard with a handpicked, eleven-song collection.

Produced by Nelson with collaborator Mickey Raphael, the album was recorded at his Pedernales Studios and features the final sessions with longtime band members Bobbie Nelson and Paul English, which adds even deeper meaning to this collection.

It should come as no surprise to fans or casual listeners that this collection embodies all of Nelson’s signature strengths. His ability to inhabit the heart of a story is unmatched and remains a cornerstone of what makes him such a revered artist. His voice is one of the few enduring threads that continue to bind the traditions of the genre together. What stands out most here, however, is the pulsing sense of love for both the material and its originator.

On the rollicking title track, Nelson tackles the bluegrass-infused rhythm with the verve of a jaunty railroad conductor, hitting each measure with the same proud confidence Haggard carried in 1969. Similarly, although it has been covered by more than fifty other artists, Nelson’s hushed take on the classic ‘Silver Wings’ carries a rare understanding of Haggard’s lyrical intent. Rather than imitating, Nelson extends the song’s quiet ache, letting every note breathe with lived-in grace.

The true tearjerker of the set, though, is ‘Mama Tried,’ where the gorgeous orchestration lends a commemorative calm as Nelson revisits the defining standard of his friend’s career.

We are all profoundly lucky to witness the twilight chapters of one of America’s greatest storytellers, still singing with the warmth of an old friend and the wisdom of a lifelong wanderer.

Rating: 8/10

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For more on this week's artists, see below: