A look back at every album that has topped a year-end singles list at Country Universe.
2024
Jett Holden
The Phoenix
What we said: “They say the best songs are three chords and the truth / Until that truth and your belief systems don’t quite align.”
2024 was a year in which creators from historically and presently marginalized communities used their work to put the country music establishment on notice for the ways that they continue to exclude perspectives that challenge their tightly-held status quo. But I don’t know if any artist did so more succinctly than did Jett Holden, with a single pointed couplet on “Taxidermy,” the opening track to his debut album, The Phoenix.
The song itself, which Holden originally wrote in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, is a protest folk song of the purest form, in that it identifies both a problem and its potential solutions. Producer Will Hoge recasts “Taxidermy” as a slice of rock-edged country, not dissimilar from what’s currently en vogue in the genre’s mainstream. Doing so makes Holden’s words even thornier: In a post-truth era, there’s an important and obvious disconnect between the “truth” and systems founded on know-your-place aggression. Holden’s song suggests that Music Row is inclined to tell listeners to reject the evidence of their eyes and ears.
He’s not wrong, of course, and what makes The Phoenix such an extraordinary album– our pick for the finest album released in a year chock full of tremendous works of essential country music– is Holden’s focus on resilience in the face of such gaslighting and gatekeeping. What each of his songs emphasizes are his authentic lived experiences as a source of internal strength and an opportunity for connection with those around him. “Backwood Proclamation,” a collaboration with John Osborne and Charlie Worsham and which absolutely sounds like a radio hit in a world where country radio PDs would entertain music by a queer POC, is about the joy of coming home to a loved one at the end of a hard day, while “When I’m Gone,” a duet with Emily Scott Robinson, reimagines Jason Isbell’s “If We Were Vampires” from the perspective of a couple who have different faiths.
Holden’s point of view is rooted in the ways human connection makes us better versions of ourselves– how we can gain the power to rise like the proverbial phoenix. And he sings his songs with one of the most powerful and distinctive voices to emerge in recent memory. He can lean into the raspiness of his tone to highlight the menace of “Karma” just as easily as he can belt the final chorus of “Taxidermy” with the kind of force that would rattle arena rafters.
As much as his singing voice impresses, it’s Holden’s masterful use of language that further distinguishes him. I can’t think of the last time I heard so many fifty-cent words used on a country album. In a world where the genre’s biggest star built a career on pre-K drivel like “Up-Down,” Holden believes that country music fans deserve and can handle songs that talk about taxidermy and necromancy and oxytocin.
He’s not wrong about that, either. More than any other album released in 2024, The Phoenix is one that gives me hope for what the future of country music can still be. It can still be accessible and catchy as all hell– we don’t have to settle for the greige production of current Americana– while writing songs that are, perhaps more than anything else, smart. That Holden accomplishes all of this on his debut record– and, it’s worth noting, The Phoenix is the first album released via The Black Opry’s partnership with Thirty Tigers– immediately announces him as one of the genre’s most essential talents. He’s showing us how, together, we all can rise. – Jonathan Keefe
2023
Jason Hawk Harris
Thin Places
What we said: The battle for the soul is waged in art, in that the most powerful works of art are those that challenge us to confront difficult emotions or experiences, or to question the ways we perceive the world or the people around us. Still, there are certain experiences that are so complex that even our most significant artists struggle to make sense of them.
Consider grief, in particular. An experience that finds so many of our most unpleasant emotional states intertwined in ways that amplify their primordial fight-or-flight effects. A process that revolts against linear or logical progression. A state of being that often finds us defenseless against our worst, most base impulses. Visual artists often struggle to find media or presentations that capture grief in a single piece. Musicians and poets generally make it the focus of a single song or verse, but it’s difficult to sustain for a full album or volume.
Where grief resides most often and most effectively, then, is in horror. It’s fitting that a genre– whether in literature, film, or drama– that thrives on the uncanny is the source of works that draw sustained metaphors for an experience that is so fundamentally peculiar. Shelley’s enduring Frankenstein is a work that upends the ways humans bargain against death and the costs of doing so, and 2023 offered several films– Laura Moss’ Birth/Rebirth standing as perhaps the best among many– to draw inspiration from man-made monstrosities. Grief informs the horrors of characters’ decision-making in some of Stephen King’s most powerful works, including It, Dolores Claiborne, and The Stand. Films like the uncompromising director’s cut of Rob Zombie’s Halloween II, Neil Marshall’s The Descent, and Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook all develop literal and figurative bogeys from their protagonists’ attempts to process the trauma of loss.
When it comes to music, albums that accomplish something similar are truly rare. In recent years and within the broad country universe, the only album I can recall that attempts to tackle grief so head-on is Allison Moorer’s Down to Believing. And even that landmark record is derived from a specific iteration of grief, as Moorer reflected upon her responses to her son’s Autism diagnosis.
In contrast, Jason Hawk Harris’ Thin Places is an album that addresses the type of grief that follows in the wake of the death of a loved one. It’s an album of bereavement, and it’s no accident that Harris invokes the tone and imagery of horror throughout. Even the cover art sets the tone, depicting a lively afternoon at a park, where people’s limbs have been blown off and faces have been pulled back to reveal the skulls beneath. Harris knows from experience that the veil between the living and the dead is, indeed, a thin one, and there’s no veneer thinner than our own skin.
Thin Places is structured in such a way that it mirrors those characteristics of grief that are so enigmatic: Aesthetic shifts, often within the same song (such as how the lilting country-folk of “Jordan and The Nile” pivots to a gospel interpolation, which leads straight into the calypso-inflected “Bring Out the Lilies”), reflect dramatic and unpredictable shifts in mood. Recurring motifs in the production– three-note string figures, which evoke the ominous Jaws score, pop up out throughout the album– align with the ways specific stimuli can bring on a jarring, intrusive memory. Even the final track fades out with a coda that segues straight back into the intro of the first song: It’s a cycle that replays without a clear beginning or ending.
And when the songs on an album are as brilliantly crafted as those on Thin Places, they demand and reward that kind of repeated engagement. Harris reckons with the loss of multiple loved ones– “Half an orphan since she went that way / She’s up the hill beside the interstate,” is an absolutely gutting couplet about a parent’s death– by embracing the strangeness of the process and by recognizing what is unknowable.
He stares into “The Abyss” and wonders if or when he’ll get a response, and he ponders and then rages against his own mortality on the raucous “White Berets.” He indulges in vices on “Shine a Little Light,” “I’m Getting By,” and “So Damn Good” as sources of connection and distraction. He sings of visions of his deceased loved ones, of dancing skeletons, and of cremains leaving a golden wake along the edge of a river, and he wonders if the best any of us can hope for is that those we leave behind will, in the words of Warren Zevon, keep us in their hearts for a while.
As heady as Thin Places can be, Harris interjects a macabre sense of humor throughout. The natural sweetness of his tenor voice– “I’ve got a voice that can give you chills,” he sings at one key juncture, and he’s absolutely right– belies this sardonic streak. Again, that tension only deepens the album’s greater thematic heft. But it’s the gallows humor that truly makes the album. “She died on Good Friday / Just like the Lord,” is the jaw-dropping opening line of “Bring Out the Lilies,”, and it’s followed with an even better punchline: “But she didn’t rise up like a king / On this bright Easter morning.” While it’s clear that Harris is steeped in Christian iconography, the overall tone of the album is one of a smartass agnostic who is trying to make sense of a situation that never will.
What Harris demonstrates is that grief is far messier and more convoluted than clear phases like anger, denial, or bargaining. There are moments when all you can do is laugh at the absurdity and brutality. There are moments of self-destruction. There are moments of wanting to throttle someone who, however sincerely, says it’s all part of God’s plan. The truth that Harris finds on Thin Places is that there’s no truth to be found. And, when it comes to being human, there’s no revelation more horrific or more beautiful. – JK
2022
Tami Neilson
KINGMAKER
What we said: The positive forces that came together to help Neilson fully realize her talent and cultivated her confidence are instructive for what ails country music today. Kingmaker is easily the best country album of the decade, and one of the seminal recordings of the 21st century. It’s finding its audience, too, especially in Australia and New Zealand, where Olivia Newton-John and Kasey Chambers have previously demonstrated how grace and grit can power a female artist to iconic status. But even more so than those two ladies who contributed so much to the format, country music really needs Tami Neilson, who has the potential to be a transformative figure for the genre if given the platform to do so.
Much of Kingmaker documents why that platform is unlikely to be given by the powers that be, who seem incapable of distinguishing the poison from the antidote. But it doesn’t matter what they think or who they choose to anoint as the next big thing. Kingmaker is a career-defining statement from an artist who realizes the crown has been hers all along, and it should serve as both inspiration and roadmap for aspiring artists who don’t fit within the narrow conventions that are suffocating the genre. Claim your crowns, y’all. Tami has shown you how. — Kevin John Coyne
2021
Allison Russell
Outside Child
What we said: In a year when so many black women asked how their exceptional art fit into country music, it’s fitting that the finest album is one that finds a black woman reflecting on the sources of her own alienation and her journey toward accepting herself as worthy of love and grace.
Allison Russell’s Outside Child doesn’t shy away from matters of abuse and trauma– there’s a candor to Russell’s narratives that is both disarming and deeply empathetic– but the album isn’t an exercise in self-pity or navel-gazing. Outside Child isn’t a therapy session set to meter and melody: Russell names her trauma, yes, but she comes to the table with a degree of confidence that she has the skills and support to claim her rightful space in the world. She’s as comfortable in her status as “The Runner” as she is as one of the “Joyful Motherfuckers.” However heady and difficult this material might be– and it’s as deserving of academic analysis as any album in the genre’s history– what lingers about Outside Child is its fundamental hopefulness. Russell knows she’s deserving; with an album as vital as Outside Child, she’s certainly garnered considerable praise and adoration. She’s the finest of country music’s present and points the way to its vibrant future. – JK
2020
Pam Tillis
Looking For a Feeling
What we said: We knew all the way back in 2007, when she released Rhinestoned, that Pam Tillis was going to double-down on her artistic bona fides after her time as a commercial hit-maker ended. What we didn’t know then was that it would be a full thirteen years before we’d get another solo album from Tillis. Looking for a Feeling was certainly worth the wait, and it’s an album that makes it clear that Tillis is still following her own muses.
What has always made Tillis such a distinctive talent is her approach to genre: She can throw down a traditional barnstormer like “Put Yourself in My Place,” top the charts with a slick cover of Jackie DeShannon’s pop hit “When You Walk In The Room,” and define the very best of contemporary country with songs like “Shake the Sugar Tree” and “Maybe It Was Memphis.” She’s never been bound by genre conventions and, instead, looks at them as more of a dare.
She brings that same willingness to defy convention to Looking for a Feeling. The songs themselves all scan as country in some meaningful sense: From the slow-burning regret of “Better Friends,” to the impulse to “slap that little bitch Jolene” on the recitation of “Dolly 1969,” and the paean to the seductive effects of “Lady Music.” But the album recasts these country tunes into some vintage Southern soul: The arrangements sound like old Candi Staton or James Carr sides, and they are, to a one, glorious. It’s revelatory to hear Tillis in this setting, because it highlights the natural empathy and warmth of her voice. She doesn’t revel in vices on Waylon Payne’s “Looking For a Feeling” so much as she bathes luxuriously in them, and she sounds utterly at-ease in the heartbreak on “The Scheme of Things.”
To say that Pam Tillis has never sounded better on record is the highest of praise, but that’s the case with Looking for a Feeling. It isn’t just the year’s most welcome comeback, it’s a career-best effort from an artist who was already one of her generation’s finest. – JK
2019
Tanya Tucker
While I’m Livin’
What we said: It had been 10 years since Tanya Tucker had released an album, which was a collection of covers where even she admits that the vocals that they used were a disaster, and it had been 17 years since she had made an album of original music. Along with personal setbacks, the experiences from those unappreciated attempts caused her to lose her confidence, which all but made her give up on making music.
After Shooter Jennings offered to produce an album for Tucker, he asked Brandi Carlile if she would write a song for the project, since she has been previously vocal about being an avid Tucker super fan. A request for one song turned into Jennings enlisting Carlile to co-produce the album with him, which, in turn, led to Carlile and her long time collaborators, Phil and Tim Hanseroth, taking a deep dive into learning about Tucker’s life and writing almost a full album of songs based on that research. Not only did Carlile write these songs especially for Tucker to sing, including helping her write a song that she had been wanting to write for years (“Bring My Flowers Now”), she spent every second in the vocal booth with her to serve as her vocal coach throughout the recording process, which resulted in this remarkable album where Tucker’s voice sounds as strong and nuanced as ever.
While Tanya Tucker’s While I’m Livin’ is not the result of a supergroup of women coming together, it’s a triumphant story of one woman who joined with another woman to make one of the best albums of an almost 50 year career. In this case, Brandi Carlile decided it was time for the world to remember why Tanya Tucker is rightfully a country music icon. Despite Tucker’s misgivings and resistance to trying something new, Carlile saw Tucker’s great potential for continued relevancy. As Rick Rubin did with Johnny Cash, Carlile helped breathe new life into Tucker’s musicality and helped her find her voice as a woman with 61 fascinating years of experiences who still has a remarkable voice and stories to tell. Furthermore, it is worthwhile and moving to note that Carlile has put as much effort and love into promoting Tucker and this album as she has any of her own albums. – Leeann Ward
2018
Pistol Annies
Interstate Gospel
What we said: Country radio continues to reflect the national narrative in the worst ways, promoting toxic masculinity and male mediocrity, while sidelining and shutting out female excellence, keeping those best equipped to be the genre’s salvation from even being heard. So of course, in 2018, women did what women do in the face of insurmountable injustices. They worked harder and did better.
No album better exemplified this spirit of resistance than Interstate Gospel. As individual artists, Miranda Lambert, Ashley Monroe, and Angaleena Presley have made some of the best country music of the decade. Joined together, they crafted the finest album of 2018, fueled solely by their own songwriting pens. How men isolate them (“Best Years of My Life”), betray them (“When I Was His Wife,”) and ultimately waste them (“Milkman”) is all captured with documentary style intimacy.
But these ladies also fight back, controlling their own narratives and reclaiming their time, whether it means a trip to the DMV (“Got My Name Changed Back”), indulging in some mood-altering substances (“Stop Drop and Roll One”), or even ratting out your kid brother to save his life (“Commissary.”) Being a woman in 2018 isn’t easy, but Pistol Annies prove that there is strength in numbers, particularly when they’re so collectively smart and they steadfastly refuse to be silenced. – KJC
2017
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
The Nashville Sound
What we said: “Last year was a son of a bitch for nearly everyone we know,” sang Jason Isbell, and a legion of fans shook their heads and said in unison, “Ain’t THAT the truth!” With one line, and without getting into any specifics, he captures the frustration that many of us have been feeling. That happens time and time again in The Nashville Sound. “Anxiety” plays into that sense of creeping dread that we may feel, even if we can’t put a name to it. People who lay awake wondering if maybe the world really has gone crazy will identify with “The Last of My Kind.” Even the much-lauded love song “If We Were Vampires” plays into the dread that even the truest love story will end with someone left alone to mourn.
Given that this is Year One of the Trump Administration, you could put a political slant to the album, but the uncertainties brought up in the album go beyond politics. It could be the fear that comes with reaching middle age. It could be frustration from being trapped in a job or a relationship that you know is a dead end. Heck, even something as joyous as becoming a new parent comes with a slew of worries that keep you up at night. Isbell sings about his background and experiences, but the feelings he shares are universal.
It’s not all hopeless, though. Isbell closes out the album with “Something to Love,” a declaration of hope from parent to child. Even if you’re not a parent, “find what makes you happy… and do it ‘til you’re gone,” is a fine life motto.
Isbell and the 400 Unit have made an album so good that it’s busted into mainstream recognition. Not by having a radio-friendly single or big label backing, but by the simple virtue of being outstanding. That should be impossible to do nowadays, but they pulled it off with impeccable musicianship, well-crafted songs and sentiments that have universal appeal.
“We’ll ride the ship down, dumping buckets overboard. There can’t be more of them than us. There can’t be more,” he sings in “Hope the High Road.” Something to keep in mind as we head into 2018. – Sam Gazdziak
2016
Miranda Lambert
The Weight of These Wings
What we said: The Weight of These Wings reveals a new Miranda Lambert, one who has seen her bravado and self-assurance replaced with uncertainty and self-doubt, and who has decided that the only way to deal with the change is to stay in motion and keep working.
Hence, a double album that is a little rambling, a little unfocused, and a lot more interesting and revealing than anything she’s ever recorded before. It’s like she’s slowed down while still moving forward, and is seeing her surroundings and experiences through an entirely different lens.
She’s chosen inner reflection over outward anger, and is sometimes uncomfortably hard on herself. But the flickers of hope are there, even if the innocence that believed happiness could come without pain is now gone. There’s a great line on “Pushin’ Time” that sums it all up, as she’s making the choice to love again after being hurt so badly the last time around: “If it has to end in tears, I hope it’s in sixty years.” – JK
2015
Jason Isbell
Something More Than Free
What we said: Jason Isbell is quite possibly the strongest songwriter today that shares even a tangential connection to country music. His talents go beyond simply craftmanship and even beyond his remarkable ability to write distinctive and believable characters. His true gift is to infuse those characters with a deep humanity, eliciting empathy for those with questionable actions by enlightening us with their intentions.
Such is the power of an effective internal monologue set to song, whether he’s telling the story of a day laborer too tired to go to church (“Something More Than Free”) or of a small town man abandoning his father in the ICU (“Speed Trap Town.”) Isbell doesn’t attempt to hide the flaws, nor does he try to justify them. He just tells their stories, and that’s justification enough. – KJC
2014
Miranda Lambert
Platinum
What we said: It’s interesting to note that not only did Platinum draw an impressively heavy consensus, almost unanimous, vote from the Country Universe staff, it is also the most commercially successful of our Number One albums in at least the last seven years. Platinum, however, does not sound as if it’s a cookie cutter commercial album, which is remarkable for, arguably, one of the most currently successful mainstream artists.
Instead, Miranda Lambert has been able to create an album that manages to embrace a diverse mix of sounds, including pop/rock, pop country, western swing, pure country, Rhythm & Blues, and even some sounds that are difficult to define.
Within these generous 16 tracks, Lambert seamlessly goes from contentment to unsettled, vulnerable to swagger, reflective to impulsive, progressive to nostalgic and so many points around and in between. As a result, in addition to Lambert’s nuanced vocals that add various shades and textures to her performances, the content of the album is just as diverse and intriguing as its sounds.
As has been discussed ad nauseam lately, Lambert is one of the criminally few women who is allowed to compete in the mainstream. Platinum proves that she is not taking her unique position for granted, but rather, using it to embrace sonic and thematic diversity while championing an array of talented songwriting and musical heroes and friends. Furthermore, Platinum is finally an album that is worthy of the hype and praise that Lambert has been receiving. – LW
2013
Brandy Clark
12 Stories
What we said: Brandy Clark’s 12 Stories was shopped around to several record labels, but none of them would commit to taking on the album, even the ones that admitted that it was the best album they’d heard in years.
Since it’s impossible to reasonably imagine why label executives who loved the album wouldn’t jump at the chance to put Clark on their roster, perhaps they assumed that the album was just too smart and good for the mainstream music scene they put their dollars behind. While this is certainly a simple, and maybe even naive, view of things, other explanations simply evade me. Fortunately, however, somebody did believe in Brandy Clark’s music and the album was organically promoted as an independent release.
Even after listening to the album at least a zillion times since first receiving a promo copy well before its official release, it is a challenge to find the proper words to appropriately describe this nearly perfect debut album. Clark’s sharp, clear eyed songs are supported by crisp and satisfying productions and solid, warm vocals. Without judgment, but with intelligence, she observes and explores the tougher parts of life such as unfaithfulness, divorce and various forms of mental anguish; all the while keeping the album accessible.
As much as can and should be written about this album, the most direct thing to be said is that this was the clear favorite of the very diverse Country Universe staff, with most of us selecting it as our Number One album and none of us ranking it below number five. The rest of this list shows how far apart we often are on tastes; Brandy Clark is one artist we can all get behind. – LW
2012
Jamey Johnson
Living for a Song – A Tribute to Hank Cochran
What we said: Since he quietly rose to fame in 2008 with “In Color,” Jamey Johnson has played the part of our dependable, unbending 21st-century outlaw – sometimes to a fault. His brand has often felt airtight, his expressiveness always one step behind his authenticity. Living for a Song, then, does something momentous: It deconstructs Johnson’s persona and paints him in a sweeter, more accessible light.
Maybe it’s the late Hank Cochran’s exceptional touch: graceful, disarming and frank all at once. Maybe it’s the pairing of Johnson with a stellar cross-generational cast of characters, who deliver the 16 songs with zest and reverence. Or maybe it’s simply Johnson’s surprising versatility, drawn from his genuine, careful appreciation of his former mentor.
Does it matter? The sum of these parts isn’t just an album that pumps depth into one of our generation’s definitive artists, or that pays tribute to one of our finest composers. Living for a Song did what we sorely needed something to do in 2012: It took us back to the basics of country music – simple, straightforward and, at its best, achingly vulnerable. – Tara Seetharam
2011
Pistol Annies
Hell On Heels
What we said: For all of the lip-service that contemporary country acts give to the idea that country music tells real stories about real people, precious little country music in 2011 seemed to be about anything at all. Whether jockeying for some kind of authenticity cred that their music just didn’t support or rattling off list after pointless list of rural signifiers without an actual narrative or a greater point to make, many of the biggest country stars of the past year seemed completely divorced from the experiences of the real world around them.
Enter Pistol Annies– ostensibly a one-off side project for Miranda Lambert, Ashley Monroe, and Angaleena Presley– and their debut album, Hell on Heels. Not only is it the finest and most detailed chronicle of the current recession, the album stands as a much-needed reminder of both the depth of insight that country music offers in its best moments and the expertly-crafted escapism country music provides when things get a little too real.
Sure, there’s an element of playing dress-up to what the Pistol Annies are doing, but that fits perfectly with the album’s focus on finding ways to escape from day-to-day drudgery. Songs like “Bad Example” and the tongue-in-cheek, gold-digging title track make it clear that Lambert, Monroe, and Presley are in full control of their charades: The way Presley drawls, “Whistle it, ‘Randy,” at the bridge of “Lemon Drop” should erase any doubt that they’re in on the joke. That sense of fun is reflected in the album’s light-handed production and in the Annies’ winning performances.
That said, a devastating gut-check of a line like, “I’ve been thinking about all these pills I’m taking/I wash ’em down with an ice cold beer/And the love I ain’t been making,” from “Housewife’s Prayer,” doesn’t happen by accident. What elevates Hell on Heels into an album of real depth is that the Annies realize that escapism only has value when you know exactly what it is you’re trying to escape from.
The color of the bride’s dress in a shotgun wedding, the thrift-store curtains hanging in a house that the landlord owns, the dings and dents in the side of a trailer: Pistol Annies get all of these details right, and they employ them with both a swagger they can actually back up and a sense of purpose that speaks to something greater than simply proving their country bona fides. – JK
2010
Dierks Bentley
Up On the Ridge
What we said: It’s admirable that Bentley took on an artistically challenging project that plucked him out of his comfort zone. It’s heartening that his intentions seem pure and firmly rooted in his passion for country music. And it’s inspiring that, as a once commercially successful artist, he’s daring the mainstream to pay attention to his oddball project – and maybe even embrace it.
But let’s be honest: none of this would have mattered much if the result hadn’t been an album as rich and vibrant as Up On The Ridge. Is it bluegrass or bluegrass-flavored? Heck if I know, but it’s so interesting -sonically, lyrically and collaboratively – that it transcends its classification. With its progressive mixture of sounds, voices and ideas, it strikes an intriguing balance of relevant and reverent, and that’s exactly what we need to move the country music genre forward. – TS
2009
Ashley Monroe
Satisfied
What we said: Satisfied was supposed to be released in 2006, but since the album did not produce any top 20 singles, Columbia Nashville held the album instead of officially releasing it. It did momentarily find its way onto digital retail outlets for a month, just long enough to gain hype by ardent supporters who recognized that Satisfied was a real gem that deserved to be officially released to the public. Fortunately, the powers that be at Columbia (though Monroe and the record label had long since parted ways) finally decided to re-release the digital version of the album in May 2009, this time for good.
While Monroe was merely nineteen years old when she recorded this album, she neither caters to the teen crowd nor overreaches to prove her maturity. Instead, her warm, clear crackling voice simply sings of what she knows. From her playful duet with Dwight Yoakam (“That’s Why We Call Each Other Baby”) to introspective compositions such as “Hank’s Cadillac” and the album’s title track, Satisfied is smart without being pretentious, contemporary without being bubblegum and traditional without being stale. – LW
2008
Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson
Rattlin’ Bones
What we said: Last year’s critically-beloved duet, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, transported us to a sort of hillbilly nirvana. This year’s entry, Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson grounds us with a more down-to-earth approach. Rattlin’ Bones, an acoustic-driven set, resonates with its tight harmonies and terrific song choice.
Blending Appalachian music with blues and country, the duo gracefully glides through this exquisite exercise. Most notably on “One More Year” and “No One Hurts Up Here,” Chambers transcends heartache with her tender vocal. With husband Nicholson, whose hardy tenor supplies its share of lonesome, she echoes her desires and doubts. “Once in a While” and “Sweetest Waste of Time” are vulnerable moments where the pair stands witness to a dying relationship, and the title track is a dark, depressing look at an untameable loneliness. Love and life are full of tension and trouble, but these two, even through the darkness, hint that rich rewards lie beyond the sorrow. – Blake Boldt
2007
Pam Tillis
Rhinestoned
What we said: A timeless record that references country music’s tradition without being needlessly restricted by it. Pam Tillis has long been one of the genre’s most ambitious artists, incorporating pop, rock, jazz and R&B into her music while always remaining authentically country. What’s stunning about Rhinestoned is that Tillis made a pure country record without any of those trappings, and in the end, it was the finest album of her career.
It helps to have the pens of Leslie Satcher and Bruce Robison on your side, but Tillis herself wrote two of the best tracks: the autobiographical “The Hard Way” and the duet with John Anderson, “Life Has Sure Changed Us Around”, both tracks that look back on a life with many twists and turns, trying to figure out just how yesterday led to today.
Best of all is “Someone Somewhere Tonight”, a ballad that examines all the stages of life, and how there is always someone in the world right at this very moment, experiencing their life changing forever. It just might be the best thing that Tillis has ever put down on tape, and it’s the centerpiece of Rhinestoned, the best album of her career and the best country album of 2007. – KJC
2006
The Chicks
Taking the Long Way
What we said: As the title implies, the Chicks took a very long time following up their 2002 masterpiece, Home, and in the very best sense of the phrase, they are beginning to show their age. As excellent as their earlier albums were, there always seemed to be a polite, professional distance between the band and their material. Here, all those lines have been erased, and it’s almost like we’re hearing their real voices for the first time, as they open with a brief history of the band (“The Long Way Around”), and sing about coping with the controversy (“Easy Silence”) before confronting it head-on (“Not Ready to Make Nice”).
After the first three tracks, however, little will remind you about the incident and backlash that turned their “world upside down”. The best of the rest of the album deals with letting go of how you pictured your life would be and dealing with the reality of what it is. “So Hard” captures the Robison sisters’ struggle to conceive naturally: “It felt like a given, something a woman’s born to do. A natural ambition to see a reflection of me and you. I feel so guilty that was a gift I couldn’t give. Could you be happy if life wasn’t how we pictured it?” “Voice Inside My Head”, on the other hand, deals with a woman being haunted by the decision to give up a child because she wasn’t ready to have one. “I want, I need, somehow to believe in the choice I made. Am I better off this way?” is the harrowing bridge, while the second verse contains the promise “I’ll never forget what I’ve given up in you.”
Most chilling, yet still uplifting, is “Silent House”, written for Maines’ grandmother with Alzheimer’s disease, which after asking, “Who do we become without knowing where we started from?”, captures the essential truth that carrying on the life of those who came before them is the ultimate responsibility of the younger generation, which is embraced in the chorus: “I will try to connect all the pieces you left, I will carry it on and let you forget.”
The song also captures a truth about how memories of better times help you cope with the terminal illness of those you love. As a child, you only know your parents and grandparents as strong adults who have always been there; if you’re lucky enough to remain in one home throughout growing up, countless happy memories are created of family gatherings. As you get older, those who gathered around the kitchen table start to disappear, until finally you’re dealing with an actual parent being seriously ill. Walking around that same house that once was filled with the noise of many people celebrating, seeing that it is now empty, not better lyric could capture how it feels to deal with this new reality – “I’ll remember the years when your mind was clear, how the laughter and life filled up this silent house”.
The Chicks had never written an entire album before, and maybe they’ve said everything they need to with the songs on this project, but I suspect that as they continue to age, they’ll want to capture their new experiences in song. I only hope we’re so lucky that they choose to do this. With Taking the Long Way, the Chicks have emerged as my favorite artists, and I can hardly wait to hear what they’ll do next. – KJC
2005
Gary Allan
Tough All Over
What we said: Allan tackles the suicide of his wife head-on with this stunning album, and he runs the gamut of emotions from anger, guilt, sorrow and slight shades of hope. He’s always been one of the genre’s best vocalists, but he’s never used his talents to sing such dark and often disturbing material. He pulls no punches in the lyrics – a sample: “I’ve been mad at everyone, including God and you”, from the gut-wrenching “I Just Got Back From Hell.” There are no happy endings on this record – the final track laments that he’s getting through by “Putting His Misery on Display” for audiences every night – and one suspects that he’s still spending more time in the dark places the tragedy has created in his life than he is looking for the light. It’s a powerful and moving record that ranks with the best country albums ever made. – KJC
2004
Tim McGraw
Live Like You Were Dying
What we said: A stunning mainstream country album that manages to challenge the listener while still pleasing radio. There are too many high points to list, but “Drugs Or Jesus,” “My Old Friend,” “Open Season On My Heart,” and “Walk Like A Man” still pack a punch after repeated listens. – KJC
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