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专辑简介

The criticisms of mid-career Parker McCollum went like most diatribes leveled against Texas boys whose star power started to breach containment outside of their Lone Star borders: he was becoming too radio-friendly, too reliant on batting bedroom eyes to sell records, or just losing some of the callouses that cracked with character on “The Limestone Kid.” McCollum has since backtracked a few notches since his “Gold Chain Cowboy” days, but the line in the sand between red dirt and the rest of the known universe seemed to face its first big test in a modern star who tried to straddle both identities.

But almost ten years later, his most direct predecessor in Hudson Westbrook is earning his flowers by playing into all the stereotypes purists were warning McCollum to steer clear of if he wanted to keep his career (a testament to how much judgment should be given to your biggest critics, I suppose). The two grew up about a hundred miles from each other, with Westbrook breaking onto the scene with a self-titled EP in 2024 and dropping his flag in Nashville with his first LP, Texas Forever, in the summer of 2025. Every step of the way, Westbrook has drawn comparisons to his pretty boy predecessor, both in suave looks and general sensibilities. His first record toyed with boy band and Bieber hair, though there was still some dirt caked on the frays of his jeans and a little twang in his silky smooth baritone.

With “Exclusive,” a five-track pedal-picking session with Westbrook, the Texan veers far more into loverboy territory as he aims to make his bid for the sappiest soul in town. There aren’t many wins for Westbrook’s love life to be found here, despite his frat boy gaze giving the opposite impression of how he fancies himself in the modern dating arena. But it’s a tough game to beat these days, no matter how pretty you are, and Westbrook is patient zero for that lovebug infection, and diving deeper into waters previously thought perilous by regional elitists.

By the first, lilting chords of his title track, Westbrook is already beckoning for a hand and a dance. By the chorus, a scorn fueled by fidelity, either the belt loops are becoming unfastened, or the bourbon by the nightstand is getting a little extra added solution. The motif finds itself again on “Lovin’ On Me,” where the singer is trying a cordial version of shooting his shot. The contrast seems to be where Westbrook’s head is at in this new, brief project. It’s a more one-sided mix of drop-down guitars and hazy expressions of love and lust, really using its fiddle and steel where it can be found. The effects are more of a dressing than in the material’s actual protein. Most of his work flirts with these ideas, but the mask and the marketability of these core temperature-raising attributes seem to be where our continuation of red dirt romance is finding its footing. It’s hard to say the boot doesn’t fit.