More than a decade into their career, the National Parks are hitting a new kind of stride. Their fifth album, Wild Spirit, marked a turning point — not a reinvention, exactly, but a return. A deep breath. A reminder of why they started making music in the first place.
“The mountains are kind of our home base,” frontman Brady Parks said. “Being outside is where we all reconnect. It’s where the best songs come from.”
That kind of sentiment isn’t just scenic filler. The National Parks — Brady and Megan Parks, Sydney Macfarlane and Cam Brannelly — have always drawn from the natural world to shape their sound and vision. Their music is filled with open skies and winding trails, but it’s never just about the view. It’s about the disorientation that happens when life gets loud, and the clarity that comes when you finally step away.
Their sound is often called “adventure pop,” a label they’ve embraced with good humor. But underneath the breezy harmonies and hopeful melodies is something weightier — questions of faith, purpose and identity that don’t always come with easy resolution.
“I was going through some pretty big spiritual struggles while we were working on Wild Spirit,” Parks said. “Trying to figure out what I actually believe, what still holds meaning. Writing those songs was part of how I worked through it.”
That honesty resonates. The band’s music has always leaned optimistic, but never in a hollow way. Even their sunniest tracks have a current of vulnerability running underneath — songs that know what it’s like to lose direction and still choose to move forward anyway.
Throughout last year’s tour, they saw more new faces than ever. After 8th Wonder expanded their reach, Wild Spirit helped them cement it. They sold out some of their biggest rooms to date and played their first shows overseas. If it felt like everything was growing at once, that’s because it was.
“There were nights where we’d look out at the crowd and think, ‘Wait, who are all these people?’” Macfarlane said. “It felt surreal. But also really special, like something was finally clicking.”
Growth like that doesn’t happen by accident. Over the years, each member has stretched in different ways — Macfarlane picked up the banjo, Megan dove deeper into fiddling, and Brannelly left behind a rival band to join forces with the Parks. They’ve evolved musically and personally, but they’ve kept one thing steady: a sense of purpose bigger than just success.
Faith still plays a role in that, even if the language has shifted. Parks talks openly about doubts and reevaluating his spiritual foundations, but the idea of something greater — something worth holding onto — remains central.
“I don’t know if we’re ever trying to make ‘faith music,’” Megan said. “But we are trying to make music that feels honest. That points to beauty. That reminds people they’re not alone.”
For her, that connection often happens outside.
“Some of my most spiritual moments haven’t happened in church — they’ve happened in the mountains,” she said. “And I think that shows up in the songs. Not in a preachy way, just in the metaphors, the imagery. It’s all part of it.”
They’re not the kind of band that lays out a mission statement, but if you ask what they hope people feel when they hear their music, they’ll all say some version of this: relief. Permission to exhale. A spark of something real.
“I hope it gives people the sense that they can keep going,” Brannelly said. “That there’s something beautiful on the other side of whatever they’re walking through.”
You could call that faith. Or hope. Or maybe just a soundtrack for whatever chapter comes next.
Because for the National Parks, the journey isn’t about arriving — it’s about movement. Momentum. That sacred feeling when a song hits just right and reminds you you’re still here. Still breathing. Still part of something that matters.
