Tony Kamel leads the way with an AOTY contender.
Tucker Wetmore
What Not To
Much of last year’s dreadful Waves on a Sunset set reappears on this proper debut album; at least that release was short. I dubbed him “Temu Morgan Wallen” then and stand by that more firmly now: A piss-poor purveyor of 18374 iterations of the same 3 or 4 shallow stories.
Sarah Siskind
Simplify
A gifted but idiosyncratic singer-songwriter, such that the songs that hit are extraordinary, while others have elements that draw too much attention to themselves. The spare production on this set heightens that effect, for both ill and good.
Ian Munsick
Eagle Feather
His weird vocal tone and phrasing and his “& Western”-inspired POV differentiate from his mainstream-adjacent peers, even when he’s most shamelessly angling for a hit. At its best and its worst, it’s not so much to write home (or a hit piece) about, really.
Derek Webb
Survival Songs
Much farther on the “pop” half of folk-pop, which is perfectly fine, and Webb’s knack for a hook and a melody really shines throughout. A bit too didactic at times, but it’s also not really a time for subtlety, is it? A kind-hearted lifeline to queer kids in danger.
Palmyra
Restless
A winning debut, this polished hybrid of contemporary folk, country, and roots-rock sounds a lot like peak Bright Eyes, Avetts. But the candid songwriting, especially about gender dysphoria, replaces those acts’ “new sincerity” with a refreshing radical empathy.
Tony Kamel
We’re All Gonna Live
Ten tremendous songs about shit-kickers who’ve had the shit kicked out of them but who nonetheless find purpose, connection, and even moments of joy in the fighting back. Kamel and Bruce Robison make a mighty racket that’s fitting for this hardscrabble triumph.
This works because Kamel’s writing is so firmly rooted in human experience and isn’t going for toxic positivity or false optimism. He knows things are hard– significantly moreso for some than for others– but his narrators aren’t just punching back, they’re punching up.
Muscadine Bloodline
… And What Was Left Behind
If this is how they’re going to make their push for the mainstream, I’m fully on board. The songwriting on this set feels more edited than on their prior efforts, but that refinement doesn’t sand away any of the rough edges that make them distinctive.
Rhiannon Giddens & Justin Robinson
What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow
What’s most striking is the palpable sense of joy in every second of these performances. Beyond that, there’s the scholarship and depth of connection to this music and their profound understanding of why these are their stories to tell authoritatively.
Brandi Carlile & Elton John
Who Believes in Angels?
Recently heard author Gretchen Rubin say that the most withering feedback she’s ever received on a draft was, “Well, you sure had fun working on that, didn’t you.” And if the boot fits…
But who cares what I think? This will win 72 Grammys next winter, as designed.
Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
O’Dessa
Jake Blount– and hell, even the Hunger Games OST– has a far superior grasp of what the music of the forthcoming dystopian hellscape will actually sound like. And it’s not, as Walter Chaw called it, “Wanda Jackson getting tased.” This is damn near unlistenable.
Julien Baker & Torres
Send a Prayer My Way
I expected the writing to be this personal, but I didn’t expect it to be so funny. The use of humor broadens the emotional range, which deepens the empathy of their storytelling, which helps when they lean more strictly autobiographical.
To their credit, they deliver on the promise of making an album that’s unapologetically twangy and country-forward. Trad-country fans ought to like it, but let’s not kid ourselves as to why they won’t: This is queer country not as a genre but as praxis, and not everyone gets that distinction.
Leave a Reply