Exclaim!'s Top 10 Folk and Country Albums of 2017

The Weather Station has been acclaimed for her “measured, perceptive storytelling… an unmistakable and communicative voice, able to convey hope and hurt with equal clarity” (Pitchfork). With The Weather Station, Lindeman reinvents her songcraft with a vital new energy, framing her prose-poem narratives in bolder musical settings. It’s an emotionally candid statement – a work of urgency, generosity and joy – that feels like a collection of obliquely gut-punching short stories. “I wanted to make a rock and roll record,” Lindeman explains, “but one that sounded how I wanted it to sound, which of course is nothing like rock and roll.” The result declares its understated feminist politics and new sonic directions from its first moments. There are big, buzzing guitars, thrusting drums, horror-movie strings and her keening, Appalachian-tinged vocal melodies. Reaching towards a sort of accelerated talking blues, she sings with a new rapid-fire vocal style. After two records made in close collaboration with other musicians, including Loyalty, which FADER called “the best folk album of the year,” and Exclaim!echoed with a stellar 9/10, Lindeman self- produced for the first time since her debut. The band comprised touring bassist Ben Whiteley, drummer Don Kerr, and guests, including Ryan Driver (Jennifer Castle), Ben Boye (Ty Segall, Ryley Walker), and Will Kidman (The Constantines). But the heaviest thumbprint on the record belongs to Lindeman; she wrote the dense, often dissonant string arrangements and played most of the wending, tumbling guitar lines.

ORDER A PHYSICAL COPY HERE: www.pwelverumandsun.com P.W. ELVERUM & SUN box 1561 Anacortes, Wash. U.S.A. 98221 WRITTEN AND RECORDED August 31st to Dec. 6th, 2016 in the same room where Geneviève died, using mostly her instruments, her guitar, her bass, her pick, her amp, her old family accordion, writing the words on her paper, looking out the same window. Why share this much? Why open up like this? Why tell you, stranger, about these personal moments, the devastation and the hanging love? Our little family bubble was so sacred for so long. We carefully held it behind a curtain of privacy when we’d go out and do our art and music selves, too special to share, especially in our hyper-shared imbalanced times. Then we had a baby and this barrier felt even more important. (I still don’t want to tell you our daughter’s name.) Then in May 2015 they told us Geneviève had a surprise bad cancer, advanced pancreatic, and the ground opened up. What matters now? we thought. Then on July 9th 2016 she died at home and I belonged to nobody anymore. My internal moments felt like public property. The idea that I could have a self or personal preferences or songs eroded down into an absurd old idea leftover from a more self-indulgent time before I was a hospital-driver, a caregiver, a child-raiser, a griever. I am open now, and these songs poured out quickly in the fall, watching the days grey over and watching the neighbors across the alley tear down and rebuild their house. I make these songs and put them out into the world just to multiply my voice saying that I love her. I want it known. "Death Is Real" could be the name of this album. These cold mechanics of sickness and loss are real and inescapable, and can bring an alienating, detached sharpness. But it is not the thing I want to remember. A crow did look at me. There is an echo of Geneviève that still rings, a reminder of the love and infinity beneath all of this obliteration. That’s why. - Phil Elverum Dec. 11th, 2016 Anacortes

Intended as an examination of 21st-century femininity and masculinity, Laura Marling’s sixth album drills into her friendships and relationships with absorbing intimacy. Musically, it’s one of her finest records too. She consistently finds a captivating balance between immediacy, nuance, and adventure—whether she’s plucking cascading acoustic melodies on “Nouel” or creating a suspenseful union of hushed electronic beats, filmic strings and snaking electric guitar on “Don’t Pass Me By.”

Goodnight Rhonda Lee is Nicole Atkins’ debut album for Single Lock. It was produced by the team at Niles City Sound (Leon Bridges) in Fort Worth, Texas and mixed by Ben Tanner in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Co-writers on the record include Chris Isaak and Jim Sclavunos (Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds). Nicole was a guest star on Cameron Crowe’s Showtime series Roadies, where she debuted material from this record. Nicole debuted even more from the record at SXSW 2017 before a monumental crowd opening for country star Garth Brooks. Nicole’s television appearances have included The Late Show with David Letterman, Conan, and Later… with Jools Holland, and she has been featured in dozens of magazines and newspapers, ranging from the New York Times to The Guardian (UK) to Time. She has toured internationally throughout the US and Europe, both headlining and also touring with Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Primal Scream and the Avett Brothers. “... a defining portrait of an artist whose grasp of the past creates ageless, enduring music for any year… A moving, intensely personal and wildly creative set that ranks as one of 2017’s finest works." - American Songwriter

Recorded in the basement of Dallas and Travis’ parents’ home north of Toronto over the winter of 2015, the familiar surroundings and lack of distractions resulted in a consistent feel, despite the eclecticism at the heart of The Sadies’ sound. The psych-folk flourishes on tracks such as “Riverview Fog” are no mere homage; this is the sound of our inscrutable world, and how we manage to survive in it. Kurt Vile appears on “Easy (Like Walking).” The Sadies are a band that fans cling to like a closely guarded secret, with each new release fulfilling the promise to reach further, for all of our sakes, not just their own. With Northern Passages, the time has come to make room for more on this wild acid-folk-country-punk trip, and trust me, we’ll be better off because of it.

When Brad Barr sings, “The dream you dream of falling/Out of the blue, child,” on “You Would Have to Lose Your Mind,” the raw vulnerability of his voice transports us to a hospital bedside. Steady, rhythmic drumming and delicate harp even mimic the almost hypnotic hum of a hospital room. It’s a track that showcases The Barr Brothers’ masterful storytelling: sincere, soulful, and utterly immersive. Weaving tales of forgiveness and family with folk, blues, Americana, and Malian street music, each song on *Queens of the Breakers* is a new page to turn.

No listener to Dawson’s earlier music has ever discerned a lack of artistic ambition. Whether they got on at the last stop - the 4 track Tyneside-Trout-Mask-through a-Vic and Bob-filter of Nothing Important - or earlier in the journey, with The Glass Trunk’s visceral song cycle or The Magic Bridge’s sombre revels, devotees of his earlier recordings will be at once intrigued by and slightly fearful of the prospect of a record that could make those three landmark releases look like formative work. Peasant is that album. From its first beguilingly muted fanfare to its spectacular climax exploring a Dark Ages masseuse’s dangerous fascination with a mysterious artefact called the Pin of Quib, Peasant will grab newcomers to Richard Dawson’s work by the scruff of the neck and refuse to let them go until they have signed a pledge of life-long allegiance.

Songwriter Margo Price spent nearly a decade struggling around Nashville only to have her debut, *Midwest Farmer’s Daughter*, hit the country Top 10. Spirited, sharp-witted (“Do Right By Me”), class-conscious (“Learning to Lose”), and deeply bittersweet, *All American Made* cements Price’s place alongside artists like Sturgill Simpson and Jason Isbell—keepers of the flame but never slaves to tradition. “At the end of the day, if the rain it don’t rain,” she sings on the fingerpicked folk of “Heart of America,” “We just do what we can.” It’s a tale of blue-collar hardship drawn from her own life.