For Georgia-bred country artist Channing Wilson, writing great songs means living each day with an immense depth of empathy, curiosity, and devotion to inspiration.

“A songwriter can’t live 50 lifetimes—but if he’s worth his weight in anything, he’d better be able to write like he has,” Wilson says.

Singer/songwriter Channing Wilson has never had much use for labels—even the ones that seem tailored to fit him. Over the course of his self-made career, the Georgia-bred artist’s uncompromising spirit and formidable songcraft have found him sharing stages with iconoclastic legends like Steve Earle and Billy Joe Shaver and joining forces with nine-time Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb for his acclaimed debut Dead Man—all while making his name as a sought-after Nashville co-writer and penning songs for superstars like Luke Combs. On his sophomore album I Ain’t No Outlaw, Wilson rejects the ready-made outlaw archetype in favor of embracing the endless contradictions that define his character: battle-tested lifer, stubborn romantic, devoted father, working musician still chasing the same wild dream that first ignited decades ago.

“To me, being an outlaw was never about being macho,” says Wilson. “It’s about refusing to follow trends or conform to what everybody else is doing, drawing a line in the sand and saying ‘This is who I am and this is where I’m going to stay.’ I’m not trying to be big, bad, and tough. I’m just trying to stay true to myself, and keep getting better and better at what I do.”

Arriving as Wilson reaches his widest audience yet (thanks in part to his standout turn as a finalist on CBS’s The Road), I Ain’t No Outlaw reveals an artist whose instinct toward fearless self-expression is stronger than ever. Raised in a “dirt collar” family in the small town of LaFayette, GA he first began crafting songs as a teenager and spent years gigging in local bars before selling his fishing boat and much of his guitar collection to fund weekly trips to Nashville—eventually landing a publishing deal that led to writing alongside his musical hero Guy Clark. But while I Ain’t No Outlaw doubles down on the bracing emotional honesty that’s always anchored his work, Wilson brings his warm baritone and beautifully rugged sound to a vast expanse of material: tenderhearted ballads, riveting story-songs, hellraising anthems that hit with blunt force. Produced by Cobb at Nashville’s historic RCA Studio A, the 10-song LP ultimately mirrors the unruly complexity of the human experience. “With this album I really tried to show the full spectrum of what country music can be,” Wilson points out. “I’m a lonely, sad, funny person, and I wear that all on my sleeve.”

Wilson’s first release since signing with 101 Music in partnership with Thirty Tigers, I Ain’t No Outlaw opens with “Candle Left to Burn”—a gritty but rousing track that perfectly encapsulates the LP’s soulful tenacity. “I’m 50 now and I’ve had some health scares in the last few years, so I wanted to start off the album by saying I’m still here and I’ve still got plenty left in me,” Wilson explains. Recorded live with seasoned musicians like longtime Shooter Jennings guitarist Leroy Powell, I Ain’t No Outlaw soon tears into “Real Damn Country Song”: a gloriously rowdy tribute to the kind of straight-shooting country music that cuts right to the heart. “That song came from wanting to write a feel-good, foot-stomping tune for when you get off work, your back hurts, and you just need something to put you in a better mood,” says Wilson. “A lot of my songs hit you with a hard lyric, but this one’s about raising a glass and having a good time.”

Refusing to settle into one mood or register, I Ain’t No Outlaw moves from the existential reflection of “I Met God at a Train Station” to the heart-rending storytelling of “Alone At The Bar” to the no-holds-barred outpouring of “Keepin’ It Real” (a song he sums up as “a middle finger to the industry and a big old hug to everyone who’s supported me through the years”). On “Come And Take It” (inspired by a storied slogan from the Texas Revolution), Wilson turns an iconic declaration of defiance into a strangely poignant love song. “It’s about a tough guy who realizes he’s been guarding something that doesn’t need to be guarded, and what he’s been searching for was right in front of him all along,” he says. “I’m a sucker for those masculine love songs from an older era, where you’ve got a male voice singing sweet lyrics without making it about falling to his knees and begging someone to love him.” And in a bold display of Wilson’s gift for bringing wit and color to the most complex topics, “Gone Fishin’” offers up a fast-talking ode to his go-to cure for a troubled mind. “I grew up going fishing a lot, and when I became a dad and started dealing with different pressures and anxieties, fishing became a way to get out of my head,” he says. “For three or four hours, all I’m thinking about is catching a fish, and I always come back feeling better.”

In an indelible statement of his underlying philosophy, I Ain’t No Outlaw closes out with its stripped-back title track, written during a time when Wilson felt disillusioned with the music business. “I’d gone home to Georgia to remind myself of the kind of songs I truly want to write, and my only tether to the industry was social media,” recalls Wilson, who penned “I Ain’t No Outlaw” in 2015. “I kept seeing visuals of these twentysomething artists trying to act like outlaws, and meanwhile I’m a dad in my forties who’s just trying to make rent. Finally I realized I wasn’t competing with anybody but myself and Father Time.” Not only a powerful moment of self-reckoning, “I Ain’t No Outlaw” centers on a chorus that elegantly distills his deepest intention as an artist: “Maybe someday it’ll pay for the miles, for the hurt / For trying to leave it better than what I’ve found on this earth.” “I’ve devoted my whole life to country music; it gave me an identity and a purpose, starting back when I was going from bar to bar and playing wherever I could get a gig,” says Wilson. “I’m still clawing and climbing today, but I know I’m traveling a road that was cut by the people who came before me. Now I just want to give back and help keep that road open for whoever comes next—because if we don’t maintain those lanes, they might grow over and disappear forever.”