“My Saturn has returned,” the cosmic country singer-songwriter proclaimed to announce her fifth album (apologies to *A Very Kacey Christmas*), *Deeper Well*. If you’re reading this, odds are you know what that means: About every 30 years, the sixth planet from the sun comes back to the place in the sky where it was when you were born, and with it, ostensibly, comes growth. At 35, the chill princess of rule-breaking country/pop/what-have-you has caught up with Saturn and taken its lessons to heart. OUT: energy vampires, self-sabotaging habits, surface-level conversations. IN: jade stones, moon baths, long dinners with friends, listening closely to the whispered messages of the cosmos. (As for the wake-and-bake sessions she mentions on the title track—out, but wistfully so.) Musgraves followed her 2018 breakthrough album, the gently trippy *Golden Hour*, with 2021’s *star-crossed*, a divorce album billed as a “tragedy in three parts,” where electronic flourishes added to the drama. On *Deeper Well*, the songwriter’s feet are firmly planted on the ground, reflected in its warm, wooden, organic instrumentation—fingerpicked acoustic guitar, banjo, pedal steel. Here, Musgraves turns to nature for the answers to her ever-probing questions. “Heart of the Woods,” a campfire sing-along inspired by mycologist Paul Stamets and his *Fantastic Fungi* documentary, looks to mushroom networks beneath the forest floor for lessons on connectivity. And on “Cardinal,” a gorgeous ode to her late friend and mentor John Prine in the paisley mode of The Mamas & The Papas, potential dispatches from the beyond arrive as a bird outside her window in the morning. As Musgraves’ trust in herself and the universe deepens, so do her songwriting chops. On “Dinner With Friends,” a gratitude journal entry given the cosmic country treatment, she honors her roots in perfectly sly Musgravian fashion: “My home state of Texas, the sky there, the horses and dogs, but none of their laws.” And on the simple, searching “The Architect,” she condenses the big mysteries of human nature into one elegant, good-natured question: “Can I pray it away, am I shapeable clay/Or is this as good as it gets?”
Alec Benjamin famously began his career by promoting his music in parking lots outside of his favorite music venues. The Arizona songwriter quickly began playing those same venues, then graduated to even bigger spaces after the success of his 2018 breakthrough single “Let Me Down Slowly.” Though the circumstances have changed, Benjamin treats life the same as he did pre-fame on *12 Notes*: He’s a pop star, but Benjamin still gets butterflies in his stomach when he sees a beautiful girl, like on “Different Kind of Beautiful,” a cinematic pop ballad built around electronic drums and plucked strings. He sings: “You\'re a different kind of beautiful, the kind that makes me scared/The kind that makes me turn around and act like I\'m not there.” On second single “I Sent My Therapist to Therapy,” he flips the traditional tale of analysis on its head and showcases his dexterous rap skills. After Benjamin encounters a therapist unable to help him cope with his issues, the shrink turns around and solicits the young songwriter for any advice. It’s a playful yet powerful moment, a reminder that we all need some help, whether we’re globe-trotting stars or accredited professional counselors.
Anyone familiar with *Hitchhiker* or *Homegrown* or the dustier corners of the *Archives* series knows Neil Young has never subscribed to the idea of a permanent and enduring studio version of his songs. Part of what’s interesting about the sparse rerecordings on 2023’s *Before and After* is the relative obscurity of the source material, which reaches as far back as Buffalo Springfield (“Burned”) and as near as 2021’s *Barn* (“Don’t Forget Love”). The frailty of “Birds” has never sounded more beautiful, and nobody should take issue with a “Mr. Soul” stripped so bitterly bare. But the grace of the album isn’t in any single performance so much as the way it blurs the beginnings and ends of songs into each other to create a seamless ribbon of sound. Call it a “montage” (Young’s word), call it a dream (ours)—this is the sound of a 78-year-old man briefly glimpsing a life’s work from somewhere just outside himself.
Amigo the Devil occupies a space all his own in alternative roots music. The South Florida-bred singer-songwriter, also known as Danny Kiranos, writes densely narrative and allusion-rich songs that reward repeated listens, with an uncategorizable sound that lands somewhere between Lucero and Leonard Cohen. Following 2021’s critically acclaimed *Born Against*, *Yours Until the War Is Over* is a showcase for Kiranos’ storytelling: He shows it off on the rough and rowdy “Once Upon a Time at Texaco pt. 1,” which spins a tense but humorous yarn about going out for a bottle of tequila, and the addict’s lament “Cannibal Within,” which boasts the caustic lyric, “I just don’t wanna blow my brains out to ‘Hotel California.’” Kiranos serves these stories with a careful balance of theatrical bombast and folksy plainspokenness, finding and amplifying the tension in between. For those who enjoy literature with their music, or just dig the guttural growls, Amigo the Devil is a friend to all.
Callahan comes alive in Chicago, with Jim White, Matt Kinsey and special guests Nick Mazzarella, Pascal Kerong'A, Nathaniel Ballinger and Natural Information Society’s Joshua Abrams & Lisa Alvarado. Why, Bill? “Songs tend to mutate after they've been recorded. These songs were mutating faster than usual. Like whatever happened to Bruce Banner in the lab – I knew these songs were about to get superpowers… this change needed to be documented.”
Woodland Studios is the cultural anchor of East Nashville’s Five Points, a bustling district of restaurants, bars, and vintage shops that some consider the heart of the greater artistic enclave found east of downtown Music City. Woodland is the home studio of musical and life partners David Rawlings and Gillian Welch, as well as the headquarters for the duo’s Acony Records. Nearly destroyed by the deadly March 2020 tornadoes that devastated much of Nashville (the pair actually rushed out mid-storm to rescue master recordings), Woodland is still standing, though only after substantial repairs. That close call inspired Welch and Rawlings to celebrate their musical home with this album, which also notably bears both artists’ names. (The pair has a tendency to alternate album billing for their always-collaborative projects, like Rawlings’ credit for 2017’s *Poor David’s Almanack* and Welch’s for 2011’s celebrated *The Harrow & The Harvest*.) Accordingly, *Woodland* is as crackling and alive an album as the pair has made, leaning into the warmth of its homey origins and the ease of the duo’s fruitful and supportive creative partnership. Production is lusher and more complex, though never distractingly so—as always, the pair’s ultimate reverence is for songcraft, as heard on the evocatively titled opening track “Empty Trainload of Sky,” which could hint at the awestruck horror wrought by a tornado, or “The Day the Mississippi Died,” a clever bit of social commentary that also breaks the fourth wall (“I’m thinking that this melody has lasted long enough/The subject’s entertaining but the rhymes are pretty rough”). Other highlights include “Hashtag,” which avoids hollow social media commentary in favor of acknowledging the plight of artists whose names only become media fodder in death, and closer “Howdy Howdy,” a sweet encapsulation of the pair’s unbreakable connection.
Cat Burns knows just how turbulent—and transformative—your early twenties can be. “I think there’s a saying that says, ‘When you are 18 you think you know everything; when you’re 22 you realize you know nothing,’” the South London singer-songwriter tells Apple Music. “It’s such a formative time in everyone’s lives.” Those early adult years—and all the chaos, clarity, and, often, pain they can bring—provided the fuel for Burns’ debut, the simply titled *early twenties*. “I think I’ve always had a fixation with growing up—even the first little EP I put out when I was 16 was called *Adolescent*,” she notes. “I knew I wanted to have my album speak about age.” (Unfortunately, she adds, a certain other British pop star already came up with the concept of naming your albums after specific, life-altering ages, so *early twenties* it was.) But, if this record delves into classic territory for that time of life—youthful love, heartbreak, discovering your own character traits and flaws (see the unexpectedly upbeat “people pleaser”)—*early twenties* also finds solace in the certainty that you and your mates are all going through it together, and that one day the turbulence will pass. It’s what lies behind the jubilance of “live more & love more” or “know that you’re not alone,” and the wisdom of the India.Arie-featuring “healing” or “boy crazy,” a woozy love letter to Burns’ younger self before she realized she was queer. It’s an honest listen, but always with a message of hope and resilience. “One of my main whys of making music is always to make people feel less alone and \[make\] people feel seen,” says Burns. She wants you to “feel all of your feelings, but don’t dwell in it because there’s going to be another song to help you come out of it.” Read on as Burns talks us through her moving, cathartic debut—one track at a time. **“alone”** “I wrote ‘alone’ with Steve Mac, who is a legend \[he’s had a hand in the 30 different UK Singles Chart-topping songs\]. I was apprehensive about the session, because I don’t really tend to write the best songs with people who have had massive hits. But we got along really well. I just started word-vomiting to him about my friends who have said, ‘We’re about to be in our mid-twenties; I’m enjoying life by myself, but everyone’s talking about this romantic connection and love that seems to be really lovely, and I have yet to experience that.’ I liked the idea of it feeling like a really dramatic song—I think Gen Z just are quite dramatic! I wanted the drama to begin and grip you and then take you on a journey.” **“go”** “‘go’ probably will always be the most important song to me because it changed the speed and trajectory of my career. It’s not a song that I ever want to forget. Every time I perform it, I’m reminded that it’s not my song, it’s the people who have listened to it, it’s the people who’ve related to it. I wanted to put it quite close to the beginning just to be like, ‘This is me and this is what you are probably waiting for. So here you go, now enjoy the rest.’” **“boy crazy”** “I wrote this with Jonny Lattimer \[songwriter, producer, and musician who’s worked with Ellie Goulding, Tom Grennan, and Rina Sawayama\]. He started playing the bass part on the guitar, and this song just flew out of me. I thought, ‘This could be a really lovely love letter to my younger self in the style of this old-time, prom dance type of song.’ My generation and maybe older queer people didn’t get to have, really, that sort of prom night, where you’re allowed to be with who you want to be with. I think it was quite healing for me. I wanted to make a really lovely, wholesome song for people to think back to their younger selves, but also for younger queer people to hear and think, ‘Oh, actually I do identify with this.’” **“this is what happens”** “I wrote it with \[producer and songwriter\] Yakob in LA. I was there for two weeks, and this was my last session and I was like, ‘I miss working with the Brits. I just want to go home.’ But we met and got on really well. I was in a new country, everything was loud, everything was big, everything was sensory overload, and I just felt so overwhelmed. So I was like, ‘Why can’t I make a song about being anxious?’ It’s such a fun song even though it’s talking about something sad. Two things can be true at the same time: You can be really anxious and not want to leave your house and still want to have a dance to this song.” **“people pleaser”** “I went into the studio with \[producers and songwriters\] Jordan Riley and Gerard O’Connell and said, ‘I really struggle to say no to people.’ Jordan started playing some chords and I was like, ‘This could be quite fun.’ The song just wrote itself. The lyrics and chorus are quite sad. But again, I wanted it to be a happy-go-lucky sounding song to have a juxtaposition to make it not feel like it’s the end of the world.” **“live more & love more”** “I went into the session with the same guys as ‘people pleaser,’ and I was like, ‘I would love to make something that is just quite inspiring, that could get people to want to try something.’ Essentially, what the chorus says, if there is something that you want to try and do, just do it because we only get one life to try things, so there’s no point living with regrets. I wanted to do that in as non-cringe a way as possible.” **“jodie”** “I wrote ‘jodie’ with an amazing writer called Simon Aldred. I wanted to write a timeless love song—a ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’ vibe. Simon came up with the chords and the lyrics flew out. I could draw upon my first love—I just wanted to make a really lovely love song for her because she was love personified for me, but also to showcase queer love, especially at the end where it says, ‘Our love goes rings around the sun, and they try and slow it down.’ This was a love song for the person—but also for the community, a love letter to queer love, and the beauty of how pure and natural it is.” **“you don’t love me anymore”** “It’s actually not about anything specific, but a concept that I’ve always wanted to write about. I think the uncertainty of love is such a big thing for a lot of people. And I think a lot of people have that fear that someone will just leave them because they don’t love them anymore—that swift change is really unsettling to think about. I wanted to make a song about that saying, ‘I’d actually rather you have met somebody else than just saying you don’t love me anymore, because I don’t really know how to get closure from that.’” **“no more”** “This is actually about a friend who came out of a longtime relationship, where he didn’t feel seen at all, he didn’t feel like any of his efforts were respected or valued. I thought that was a really interesting concept. It’s going, ‘OK, well, you didn’t see that so you won’t see me again.’ It’s a short and sweet song—only two minutes. Once I’ve said this twice or three times, that’s it. That’s the last time you’ll hear from me and see me.” **“happier without you”** “It’s about a friend, again, who came out of a long-term relationship. I remember I was there for her quite a bit through her realizing that she did not want to be with him anymore and this was not the right relationship for her. I wanted to make a song that’s sad and somber, but hopeful at the same time.” **“healing” (feat. India.Arie)** “I’ve loved India’s music since I was young—she’s one of my biggest inspirations. I covered a few of her songs back in 2020, and she heard one of them and followed me, and said, ‘I think you’re really great. Anything I can ever do to help or just be a part of your journey, I would love to.’ Nothing came of it until I wrote ‘healing.’ I could really hear India on it—she makes healing, purposeful, intentional music about feeling close to yourself and feeling centered within yourself. I sent her the song and she loved it. When she sent over her verse, I was like, ‘This is the most perfect way to end the album.’ People in their early twenties, we always end up getting advice from people older than us who say, ‘You will be fine.’ You find it really dismissive, but they have gone through this probably multiple times, and they’ve come out the other end each time. The fundamental thing is everything is going to be OK and it will pass, and we’ll go into the next stage of our life. So that’s why I ended it with that song.”
Adeem the Artist digs deeper into their roots on *Anniversary*, the follow-up to the singer-songwriter’s critically acclaimed 2022 record *White Trash Revelry*. A native of the lower Piedmont region in the American southeast, Adeem builds upon the country-inflected folk of past releases to include the blues music that makes up their heritage, finding musical and thematic connections along the way. “Socialite Blues” pairs the Piedmont blues sound with a modern narrative, with an especially charismatic vocal from Adeem. “Rotations” is a clever and heartfelt spin on parenthood, with a gentle arrangement that suits the song’s tender message. And “One Night Stand” makes the case that Adeem could just as easily be a pop country hitmaker, using a big, hooky chorus to center a queer narrative. Adeem recorded the LP with producer Butch Walker in Nashville, setting up for a few days at renowned local studio The Butcher Shoppe. Players on *Anniversary* include Ellen Angelico, Aaron Lee Tasjan, and Megan Coleman, and the record boasts Adeem’s most expansive sound yet, complete with a horn section.
