It never takes long when you're listening to country radio to hear a song by Jordan Davis. Since 2017, this singer and songwriter from Shreveport, Louisiana, has put 10 singles on Billboard's Country Airplay chart — five of which have gone to No. 1 and none of which has peaked lower than No. 7. Among his hits: "Buy Dirt," which was named song of the year by the Country Music Association in ...

Country Singer Jordan Davis performs during the Kane Brown Blessed& Free Tour at Barclays Center of Brooklyn on Nov. 5, 2021, in New York City.

Arturo Holmes/Getty Images North America/TNS

It never takes long when you're listening to country radio to hear a song by Jordan Davis.

Since 2017, this singer and songwriter from Shreveport, Louisiana, has put 10 singles on Billboard's Country Airplay chart — five of which have gone to No. 1 and none of which has peaked lower than No. 7. Among his hits: "Buy Dirt," which was named song of the year by the Country Music Association in 2022; "Next Thing You Know," which earned the same award from the Academy of Country Music in 2024; and his latest, "Bar None," a clever drinking song in which he recounts "getting goner than your long-gone boots."

You can attribute Davis' success in part to the fact that his music makes sense next to virtually anything on the radio — it's wordy yet hooky, frisky but thoughtful, old-fashioned in structure yet sweetened with just the right amount of ear candy. His new album, "Learn the Hard Way," is the work of a guy who's clearly absorbed the lessons of the market. Yet his homespun wit and his emotional specificity also bear the influence of the master he describes as his "songwriting GOAT": John Prine.

Davis, 37, talked about it over drinks at the Sunset Marquis ahead of a show scheduled for Thursday night at the Greek Theatre.

You use the word "ultimatum" in the first line of the first song on your new album. Not a word you hear somebody sing every day.

Oh, I keep a list of words that I'd love to use in a song.

What's another one?

"Vandal." I got that from the University of Idaho — they're the Vandals. We were driving through one day and I saw a sign that said "This Is Vandal Country." I kept it for a really long time, and then when we were writing "Memory Don't Mess Around," we did, "Stole every bit of my moving-on like a vandal."

Love a good gerund.

Songwriting is literally just dissecting words — like, how can we say this cooler?

You know immediately when you come across one of those words or phrases?

Yeah, and they're usually really sad. I asked a bartender once how he was doing, and he goes, "Man, I don't know if I'm living longer or just waiting to die." I was like, Holy s—. I wrote it down in my phone, and I've thrown out that idea so many times in songwriting sessions. Everybody responds the same way: "Dude, I can't write that today."

The late Keith Whitley gets a shout-out in your song "Mess W ith Missing You," which comes after Morgan Wallen sampled "Miami, My Amy" and Blake Shelton announced he's making a Whitley documentary. Why is everyone talking about Whitley right now?

He's the best vocalist in country music.

Period?

Obviously, Stapleton's unreal. But for me, I'm like, that is such a pure, clean vocal. And he was a great songwriter. I've just always been a fan, which came from my dad. Whitley, Kristofferson, Prine, Jim Croce — that's what he'd have playing in the car.

The Wallen track has irritated some folks.

I think Morgan probably knew that was gonna happen. What I always tell people is that Keith Whitley's version of "Miami, My Amy" still exists — you can still listen to it. I kind of like Morgan's spin on it. I dig the interpolation thing that's going on.

Is there a song in your mind that's too sacred to sample or interpolate?

I don't think so. I mean, even "He Stopped Loving Her Today" — I'd love to hear somebody bring a fresh take on that.

"Mess With Missing You" features Carly Pearce. Why was she the right duet partner for that song?

Carly's one of the first people I met when I moved to Nashville. We kind of ran in the same friend group. I remember early on being like, "Goodness gracious — that voice." Still to this day her voice is one of my favorites out there.

As someone who started out trying to write for other singers, do you ever still write with another artist's music in your head?

I'm a huge Tom Petty fan — we used to cover "You Wreck Me" and still do every once in a while — and "Turn This Truck Around" was definitely written in a Petty frame of mind. But I don't do it in the sense of when I initially moved to Nashville, when I was like, "I'm gonna try to get Brad Paisley or Eric Church to cut this."

Were those good songs?

Well, they didn't record any of 'em [laughs]. When I started writing better songs was when I said, "I'm not gonna try to write this other than however it comes out." That's when I wrote "Slow Dance in a Parking Lot," which I was told had way too many words in it.

The Nashville songwriters who do succeed in writing for others — what are they good at that you're not?

There's some people that are just a little more connected. But in all honesty, they're just better songwriters. I'm not afraid to say that I can name 10 songwriters right now that are better than me.

Gimme one.

Hardy — that guy is crazy talented. Jonathan Singleton is a better songwriter than me. Casey Beathard, Tom Douglas — those guys are better at writing songs than I am. And I'm happy they are, because when I get to write with them, I get that pit in my stomach: All right, dude, you're sitting down with a good one today.

It seems that most of the successful new acts in Nashville write or co-write their own songs, which hasn't always been the case.

Now more than ever, we're able to grab a phone and see what's going on with somebody's life on social media. So you can't really hide behind: "Here's my record, see you on the next one," you know what I mean? There's a need for honesty and authenticity, and nobody's gonna be more honest or real than you yourself.

Even so, you've got several songs on your album that you didn't write.

To think that in a two-year period I wrote the best 17 songs in Nashville — that would be a lie.

"Bar None" was an outside song — Ben Johnson, Lydia Vaughan and Hunter Phelps wrote it. Why'd you cut it?

I couldn't stop listening to it. Listened to it probably 10 times the evening I got it, woke up the next morning, listened to it again, called my team and was like, "I need to go record this song today because the next person that hears this song is gonna record it."

You're looking to be moved right away.

"You and your memory, 1 / Me and this bar, none" — that's genius. I've been here for 10 years — how have I not written that?