In light of having a much-needed long weekend, I thought I’d take a moment to pop in with some more musical recommendations to calm our frayed nerves. (Only a month into the year and it already feels like a decade has passed — huzzah!) We’ll focus on a trio of artists I’ve highlighted recently over on our sister site on the ‘Gram, all champs of the country’s beloved bipartisan #FridayFreshness competition held there each week. They were all new finds for me and since their respective victories I’ve dived down the rabbithole, delving deeper into their material and really enjoying what I’ve found. We’ll start with Nashville’s Josh Rennie-Hynes, the Aussie-born artist who’s released seven albums since getting started with his self-titled debut a little over a decade ago.
It’s been less than two years since he released a pair of them, LIGHT/SHADE and Fragile Like a Bomb, which were more electronic, poppier outings than his quieter, singer/songwriter roots, but it seems like he might be gearing up for another release soon and a return to that earlier sound. Rennie-Hynes describes his sound as a blend of “personal storytelling with folk, indie rock, dream pop, and Americana, creating a sound that is both timeless and distinctly his own,” which is a fair characterization as you work your way through his catalog. The single that won the weekly competition on the ‘Gram called to mind soft-spoken legends like James Taylor, while his first few albums remind me more of early-era Ryan Adams. Specifically on his third album Furthermore, which is my favorite so far.
Released back in 2016 it’s a really strong set of songs, bearing a range of country flourishes across its eleven tracks. There’s slide guitar on the stately opener “Where Do I Go,” the hushed “June 23rd,” and their more upbeat companion “Picture Frame.” There’s somber fiddle on “A Beaufort Afternoon,” the quiet closer “Annandale to Austin,” and their more upbeat companion “Rosie.” (The former of which also sports some harmonica.) Some are more folk forward (the lovely “Fiddlewoods”), others are rockier (the bright “Richmond” and “Shining Down”), while others showcase some wonderful harmonies between Rennie-Hynes and an unnamed mystery woman. (“I’ll Go Home”) It’s a really solid listen, but my favorite among many right now is the aforementioned “Rosie,” which he wrote for a friend of his cousin’s that was struggling with depression. It’s a warm, encouraging tune (“it’s gonna be alright, alright, alright, alright Rosie…”) that draws you into its arms. Give it (and the rest of the album) a listen:
We’ll skip over to the Pacific Northwest for our next artist, Spokane’s Matt Mitchell, of the aptly named Matt Mitchell Music Co. He’s had a bit of a herky jerky start for some reason — he released his debut EP Push – Vol. 1 in 2019, but then disappeared for nearly three years. When he resurfaced he did so with a flourish, dropping a duo of albums, Ramona and Captive of the Mind, both of which are really good listens. (His harmonies with singer Jen Borst on the latter are particularly poignant, as on tracks like the excellent “After Today” and “The Price of Yesterday,” among others.) He seems to have started hitting his stride since then, releasing his third album Obvious Euphoria last year, which showcased a number of songs with sharper lyrics about the state of things around us to powerful effect.
There’s overtly critical ones like the countrywide call outs “Sounds American to Me” (“low effort and high desire”) and “Bootstrap Nation” (“find yourself a means of exploitation, there ain’t nothing you can’t be in this American dream”) and there’s subtler, more indirect ones that bury their blades under a blanket of sweet sounding melodies. Tracks like “Captain Toyota” and the ode to Sherman and his infamous march “Kerosene” represent the latter — “Please don’t ask me ’bout how I’m doing — I’ve been getting on, I’ve been getting through it. I took a turn down a real dark road” and “would you go out for me I need a book of matches and some kerosene, I’m gonna burn down everything,” respectively. Those could be transcripts ripped from the minds of any number of us right now (including yours truly) and it makes the juxtaposition with the sunnier sounding music that much starker. Mitchell reminds me of Jimmy Buffett a bit — his voice and occasional tropical vibes gild straightforward narratives and embraceable melodies, but there’s a touch more shade than in the departed’s typical fare. It’s really good stuff — my current fave is probably the aforementioned “Kerosene,” as it’s something of a modern day anthem right now (for better or much, much worse…) Give it a listen here:
We’ll head down south again for the last member of our trio, Birmingham’s Will Stewart. He’s probably the most eclectic of the three, channeling everyone from legends like Dylan (“Dark Halls,” “Nothing’s Right”) and Petty (“Be Sweet,” “New World Daydream”) to the saunter of forgotten alt-rockers Morphine (who he name checks on “Southern Raphael” and then covers outright on the excellent EP 90 Acre Farm) or their counterparts Uncle Tupelo when the twang and muscle creep in. (“All Over Again,” “Tragedy”) He plays nicely with others, too, harmonizing beautifully with a range of female foils, from frequent collaborator Janet Simpson (who shows up on a number of songs and released an album with him as Timber back in 2018) or Sarah Lee Langford (who he also released an album with in 2022).
That high work ethic and range of influences adds up to an incredibly interesting (and satisfying) listen — in total he’s got four full lengths on his own (all solid), plus the two with the aforementioned partners and a live album to boot, capturing him on a tour stop in Norway last year. He doesn’t appear to be slowing down anytime soon, either. Stewart’s currently gearing up for the release of his fifth solo album Moon Winx, which is due out Feb 28, and then hopefully heading back out on the road to support the new album. (Its lead single “Firebird Fever” is what grabbed my attention — and the coveted #FridayFreshness crown — a few weeks back.) I’m really looking forward to it. In the meantime I’m gonna keep spinning his older stuff to prepare — start with the stately “Heaven Knows Why” (which sports some of those lovely harmonies with Ms Simpson) or that killer “Southern Raphael” to get you going:
In anticipation of the new Led Zeppelin documentary (the aptly titled Becoming Led Zeppelin, which was released last week) I finally read the infamous biography of them from the 80s, Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga. I’d put off reading it for years because of its lurid reputation (this is where “the shark incident” and other sensationalist details apparently originated about the band’s extracurricular activities while on tour) and while those pieces are in there they were thankfully not as prominent as I’d feared. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of talk about the destruction of hotel rooms, possible deals with the devil, and a laundry list of mistresses as long as Page’s member reportedly was/is. Thankfully more of the focus is on what really matters (at least to me) — the music — and the book does a better than expected job of taking you through both the band’s inauspicious beginnings when they couldn’t draw a crowd in their native UK (which drove them here to the US where they instantly caught fire) and their meteoric rise where they flew around the country on their own jumbo jet and regularly played three-plus hour shows to sold out, overflowing crowds.
One of the things that stood out (aside from the aforementioned excesses) were the ongoing death threats that the band apparently regularly received. There were initial threats of pummelings — particularly when touring the South in those early years — which seem to have stemmed mostly from their “hippie-like” appearances (it was the late 60s, remember), but gradually intensified into actual death threats from both haters, crazies (a Charles Manson disciple stalked Page and came to his dressing room to try and meet him the night before she ultimately tried to assassinate President Gerald Ford, for one), and those perturbed by Page’s obsession with occultist Alastair Crowley. It’s pretty wild to consider an act today having to deal with something like this so often (and so credibly) that they have to hire individual bodyguards on top of regular security and contemplate quitting the band, as JPJ reportedly did at least once. Could you imagine the uproar if someone like Tay Tay, Bey Bey, or Coldplay were facing that (or that anyone would be that enraged by them to even want to in the first place?) Pretty wild, but just another part of the over the top lives that these guys were living.
Aside from the titillating tabloid fodder I mentioned before (which for their part the band has always denied) you have to fight through some pretty purple prose at times to get to the data, such as the below whopper which was so ridiculous I had to share:
“Robert was in his usual skintight jeans and an open vest that revealed his bare chest. He strutted and preened, shook his hips and thrust out his breast, glistening with sweat. He bumped and ground, preened with exaggerated braggadocio and threw his hair back like some hippie Jesus. The thick July heat turned the concert into a delirious steambath. Stage lights glowed in hues of saffron, cerise, indigo, aquamarine, and emerald.”
Passages like that aside, it was overall a better read than I expected. Not as good as the biography on Bonzo, which I wrote about before, but definitely a worthwhile addendum to that one. I’m really looking forward to seeing the documentary to see where it fits on the spectrum. Since I haven’t included it here before (and since it’s one of the many songs of theirs I love, one that fits the mood right now nicely), give the smoldering “No Quarter” a listen here:
We’ll shift to some singles from some other longtime faves to close things out, starting with one from Zep’s countrymen, Doves. The band has a new album coming out soon, Constellations of the Lonely, which is their first since their surprise return five years ago. (The Universal Want landed at #11 on my year-end list that year.) The release date on the upcoming album has slid a couple times so far, which is a little worrisome, but thankfully the quality of the songs we’ve heard so far aren’t. Give the latest one, “Cold Dreaming,” a whirl here while we wait:
We’ll come back to this dumpster fire of a country for the rest of our tunes (no quarter, indeed…), shifting to another extra from hometown heroes Jesus Lizard who are still riding high on the backs of their own surprise return, the excellent Rack, which landed at #4 on my year-end list last month. It’s from the same sessions as that album (their first in twenty FIVE years!) and the second of three that the band will formally release on the upcoming EP Flux. (Due out April 12.) It’s vintage Lizard, channeling the same queasy, seasick vibe on display in their latest while riding another seesawing riff from guitarist Duane Denison. I’m looking forward to hearing the last tune once the EP drops in a couple months — in the meantime give this one a try here:
We’ll head south now for an old one from another returning fave, the Alabama Shakes, who recently announced their own surprise comeback eight years after going on hiatus. Since then frontwoman (and force of nature) Brittany Howard has released a pair of well-received (though disappointing, in my book) solo albums and the band parted ways with drummer Steve Johnson (who was arrested and accused of child abuse before being acquitted), but recently announced both a new album and tour. (Conveniently kicking off right here in my beloved city by the lake.) I’ve already got my tickets and am eagerly awaiting some new tunes, but in the meantime thought of this old one they did for the PBS documentary series American Epic, which looked at the birth of this country’s recording industry. It showcased a bunch of big names recording old tunes on old equipment (Elton John, Jack White, and Merle Haggard being just three), so was only fitting to have someone with as incredibly nostalgic a voice as Ms Brittany do one too. They chose Memphis Minnie’s “Killer Diller” from the 40s and it sounds great, like an unearthed treasure from some dusty time capsule. Give it a listen here:
We’ll close with a couple from the relentlessly productive (and much loved) Ms Katie, aka Waxahatchee, who is continuing her hot streak from last year’s excellent Tigers Blood, which very nearly claimed the top spot on my year end list. (It landed juuuuuuuuuuust behind at #2.) Aside from releasing that gem she’s also been dropping extras from those sessions, covering Lucinda Williams alongside guitarist MJ Lenderman, and pairing with early aughts indie darling Ben Kweller on his upcoming album Cover the Mirrors. The album was written after Kweller suffered a terrible loss (his teenage son died in a car crash in 2023), but this one doesn’t find him overtly grieving. It instead finds him returning to his grungy earlier sound, offering an understated (yet quite pretty) duet with Ms Katie that eventually erupts in a wave of guitar at the end. It’s a really good tune, one that has me curious to hear the rest of the album. (It’s due out May 30.) Sink your teeth into this one while we wait:
We’ll close with a final track from Ms Katie, another of the aforementioned extras from her excellent album last year. She’s already released one from those sessions (the fabulous “Much Ado About Nothing” I posted last month) and this one’s another winner. It again finds her partnering with MJ Lenderman, and as much as I’m indifferent to him on his own, you can’t deny how good his pairings are with her. This one’s another upbeat, country-tinged slice of sunshine — crack the window and let it in here:
That’s all for now — remember to breath, sunbeams. Resistance and rest are going to be two critical components for us, it seems. Until next time…
–BS
15. Tre Burt — Caught it From the Rye / Gerry Cinnamon — The Bonny: this slot’s for a couple of harmonica-wielding first timers, one a soothing folkster from Sacramento, the other a full throated belter from the highlands. Starting with the former, I 
As for Mr Cinnamon, I 
14. Catholic Action — Celebrated by Strangers / Silverbacks — Fad / Idles — Ultra Mono: we’ll keep the trend of the previous slot going, both in terms of first-time entrants for the year-end list and hailing from the UK. (We’ve got three quarters covered — you gotta want it, Wales…) We’ll start where we ended with another batch of Scotsmen (Glaswegians to boot) and the sophomore album from Catholic Action. 
Speaking of moving, we’ll shift to the emerald isle for another buoyant affair, this time the full-length debut from Irish five piece Silverbacks. I’ve written about these guys 
Hitting with the proverbial power of said locomotive comes the final member of this slot, British punk band Idles. Here for the first time with their third album, Ultra Mono, this was one of the rare releases to address the endless outrages swirling around us this year, from racial injustice to gentrification, gropey guys, and more. You can argue with the lyrical effectiveness of the attacks, which alternate between nonsensical word collages and simple sloganeering (and whether this is deliberately done tongue in cheek as suggested in songs like “Mr Motivator” and “The Lover” or inadvertently remains at best unclear if not wholly beside the point). What you cannot deny, though, is the power and catchiness of the songs, which have always been the band’s strong suit. Part Jesus Lizard war machine, part vintage British punks, it’s on balance a solid set of songs — with tracks like “Reigns,” “Danke,” the blistering duo “War” and “Kill Them With Kindness,” and lead single “Grounds,” which sported my hands-down favorite line of the year (“I say what I mean, do what I love, and fucking SEND it…”) it felt good to get a little fiery.
13. Mt Joy — Rearrange Us / Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever — Sideways to New Italy / Woods — Strange to Explain: this slot’s for bands who routinely conjure the shine of our sunny friend in the sky (and the namesake of everyone’s favorite blogger), brightening otherwise dreary days with their music. First up is the sophomore album from Philly band Mt. Joy (named after a proverbial place I think ALL of us hoped we could find this year), returning for the first time since their self-titled 2018 debut. That album was pure, unadulterated sunshine — positive sentiments wrapped in a hippie hemp blanket, their melodies and cheer strong enough to win over even the most calcified, jaded hearts. (Not speaking about anyone in particular here…) This one allows a few storm clouds to darken the horizon (lyrics occasionally touch on things like depression and adultery this time around) without sacrificing the underlying optimism. Songs like “My Vibe,” “Death,” “Strangers,” and the beautiful “Witness” all glow, warming the windshield as you glide on down the highway.
Another band built for the open road is Australia’s RBCF who are also back with their sophomore album, their first since their 2018 debut, Hope Downs. Thankfully the Blackouts haven’t changed the formula that 
Lastly comes the similarly evocative Woods (back for the first time since the overly cheeseball 2017 Love is Love), though the locale they call to mind is often tougher to pin down. At times pastoral homestead, others a spaced out dreamscape, this one bridges the gap between the ethereal aspects of the latter and the lush warmth of the former. Calling to mind the slinky, almost African rhythms of their 2016 album City Sun Eater in the River of Light (
12. X — Alphabetland / Magnetic Fields — Quickies: this slot’s for those showcasing the benefits of brevity, albeit using two VERY different palettes. The former takes the sounds of revved up rockabilly and singsong harmonies that made the LA punks famous and brandishes them again to terrific effect. Back for the first time in 17 years and the first in 35 with the original lineup, the band fires off 10 rapid winners in a brisk 27 minute sprint to the finish. (The spoken word piece at the end is forgettable.) The interplay between frontman John Doe and frontwoman Exene Cervenka’s voices has always been a signature, and their breathless delivery of numerous lines get stuck in your head again here. Guitarist Billy Zoom’s riffs remain pristine, rattled off with the effortless flair of someone who’s been at it for close to 40 years, and DJ Bonebrake’s drums haven’t lost any of their pop. Songs like “Water & Wine,” “Strange Life,” “Goodbye Year, Goodbye,” or the pair of old tunes finally properly recorded (“Delta 88 Nightmare” and “Cyrano De Berger’s Back”) all smoke. This one’s every bit as good as the band’s early classics.
The Mags return for the first time in three years with yet another concept album, this one requiring all songs be under three minutes long. (Previous themes required all songs have fuzzed up guitars or start with the letter I, to name just two recent ones.) Beyond that frontman Stephin Merritt was free to roam and he covers a ton of ground over the course of the album’s 28 songs. Visiting castles (twice), spinning yarns about Shakers, bikers, Jesus, and Beelzebub, celebrating historic tits (not what you think) and outstanding coffee, or simpler things like his favorite watering hole or his musical neighbors. Merritt’s limitless imagination and wicked sense of humor are both on display, presenting some of the best material since the band’s unparalleled classic, 69 Love Songs. The highlights are almost too numerous to recount — “The Day the Politicians Died,” “When She Plays the Toy Piano,” “(I Want to Join a) Biker Gang,” “Let’s Get Drunk Again (And Get Divorced), “I Wish I Were a Prostitute Again,” “The Best Cup of Coffee in Tennessee,” “My Stupid Boyfriend” (which is laugh out loud funny). They all shine, full of Merritt’s characteristic heart, humor, or wonderful melodies — a great return to form.
11. Doves — The Universal Want / Bright Eyes — Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was: this slot’s for a pair of improbable reunions from bands I’ve really enjoyed over the years, but who’d been in hibernation for a good chunk of time, seemingly gone for good. Thankfully they’ve returned, both with lavish, kitchen-sink style albums that add layers to their signature sounds. Doves add the least flourishes between the two, but have been away the longest so get to go first.
Gone for a mere 9 years, Bright Eyes are another band that slipped away into the night and were seemingly forgotten. Frontman Conor Oberst remained busy, releasing several solo albums and pairing with other artists like Phoebe Bridgers for side project Better Oblivion Community Center, but the rest of the band (Mike Mogis and Nate Wolcott) were much more quiet. So it was a surprise when there was news they’d signed to a new label (“why does a dormant band need a label?”), which was quickly followed by talk of reunion shows and ultimately an album. And it’s a good one — an ambitious, reach for the stars type outing where everything is taken up a level.
10. Built to Spill — Built to Spill Plays the Songs of Daniel Johnston / My Morning Jacket — The Waterfall II: this slot’s for some long running bands opting to run in place for a minute rather than charge forward with some new material, utilizing two of the four universal indicators for “we’re taking a bit of a break right now.” (Not represented — greatest hits or live albums, or the fabled ultimate phone-in signal, the live album of OTHER people’s greatest hits.) Thankfully they’re both entirely pleasant outings, so no real complaints here.
For their part of the equation, MMJ decided to mine their archives and put out an album of previously recorded material rather than hit us with some new songs. It’s not a traditional outtakes set, filled with one off demos or rarities scattered from throughout their career, but rather an entire album they decided not to put out until now. Originally recorded as part of the 2015 Waterfall sessions, the band initially debated releasing the material all at once, but for whatever reason balked. Thankfully they finally decided to share the other half of those sessions and the fully restored duo work nicely when played back to back.
9. Jeff Tweedy — Love is the King / Matt Berninger — Serpentine Prison: this slot’s for a couple old favorites stepping out on their own, temporarily leaving the comforts of their beloved bands (Wilco and the National, respectively) to uphold one of the pandemic’s primary edicts, that of isolation. For Tweedy this is nothing new — he’s been sporadically taking breaks from the band to do solo tours for years, and truthfully I enjoy those shows even more than the full family affairs. (No offense to the guys — there’s just something about the intimacy of Jeff and an acoustic guitar that is incomparable. Watch 
For Berninger this is the first time he’s given it a go on his own — there have been one-off tracks here and there and the El Vy side project, but this is the first time he’s hanging a shingle entirely of his own. Initially intended to be a covers album, he went into the studio with producer Booker T (sadly sans MGs) and instead ended up recording an entire album of originals. (Allegedly the covers that started the fruitful sessions still exist and will be released later.) The interplay between the two is noticeable on a number of tracks, albeit subtle — there’s no Booker T of old whipping folks into a funky frenzy (although picturing Berninger trying to do so is comical to envision, like your kind uncle rattling off some Death Certificate-era Cube in an attempt to look hard), just understated keys gliding lightly through the background to buttress the songs.
8. Waxahatchee — Saint Cloud / Kevin Morby — Sundowner: this slot’s for two independent faves who somehow prove even more enjoyable together. Ladies coming first (both in courtesy and release order), we’ll start with the latest from Ms Katie who’s back for the first time since 2017’s Out in the Storm. Having previously dealt with the pain and insecurities surrounding love and loss, giving us three excellent albums bursting with vulnerability and quiet honesty, that album was all fiery guitars and full throated resilience, letting everyone in earshot know she had finally found her footing and was no longer going to be dominated by those ghosts — which while great from a personal perspective was not what drew me to her music. Thankfully she seems to have come out of that phase of overt trumpeting and settled into one of more comfortable confidence, giving us an album that exudes warmth and beauty. Songs like the title track, “Fire,” “The Eye,” and “War” all shine, while the twin singles of “Lilacs” and “Can’t Do Much” rank among the finest things she’s written.
For Morby’s part he continues his prolific pace of release, having just put out the full length Oh My God last year. (It 
7. Guided by Voices — Surrender Your Poppy Field / Mirrored Aztec / Styles We Paid For: in a year where there was so much upheaval, so many confusing experiences and terrible firsts, it was nice to have at least one reliable thing to count on, something as steadfast and unrelenting as the virus’ case count and death toll — only positive! That comes to us from our old friend Dr Bob, who may not be able do anything to cure us of the disease, but CAN do a lot to improve our pandemic playtime. That’s because — yet again — the beloved band of Ohioans are back with another album — THREE of them. Which would sound impressive or improbable if they didn’t do the exact same thing LAST year! THAT trio of albums 
6. Cut Worms — Nobody Lives Here Anymore / Andy Shauf — Neon Skyline: this slot’s for a couple first-timers that I discovered thanks to Spotify’s spot-on suggestion algorithm, which was on a tear earlier this year. Thanks to the lockdown keeping us stuck in place, the need to get away was a growing concern as time (but not much else) oozed onward. Some turned to travel shows on Netflix, some wandered down memory lane looking at old photos, while I found myself time traveling to earlier eras musically to stave off the stasis. One of the more frequent vectors for that was Cut Worms, a 
For his part Shauf takes you a decade or so later to a Paul Simon of the 70s sound on his fifth album, a brisk 35-minute gem that nails Simon’s narrative songwriting and sing-speak style of delivery. Covering the exploits of a single night out, this is the second album in a row that Shauf dedicates substantively to a specific theme (his last outing revolved around a night at a party, 2016’s aptly named The Party.) And while the thought of 11 songs about a night at the bar (the titular Neon Skyline) might seem suffocating or bland, Shauf finds plenty to keep you interested.
5. Nathaniel Rateliff — And It’s Still Alright: released before the world shutdown, this was the first album I knew would be showing up at year’s end and was the front runner for a long time. Coming out waaaaay back in February, this marks a return to pre-Night Sweats Nathaniel — softer and more introspective, working on his wounds with his acoustic guitar in hand — but with a few more flourishes this time around. The substance is still the same — the tried-and-true stalwarts of love and loss — but what’s new is what surrounds them: sweeping orchestral sections, forlorn horns, and the occasional choir. It all adds up to a grander affair than before, while still representing the most naked, heartfelt album of the year.
4. Muzz — Muzz: this was one of the year’s most unexpected surprises, a return of components from some of my favorite bands, specifically Interpol’s frontman Paul Banks and the Walkmen’s former drummer Matt Barrick, here with indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman. Together the trio delivered one of the year’s best debuts, an endlessly engaging album that exemplifies easygoing. If the previous album was emblematic of the year’s emotional anguish, this one was all about staying calm, cool, and collected — the absolute epitome of “chill.”
3. Car Seat Headrest — Making a Door Less Open: if the last two entries represented opposing sides of the emotional spectrum, one tumultuous, the other tranquil, this one slides squarely in the middle and maps its effervescent peaks. Arriving just as the lockdown was settling its jaws into the globe, frontman Will Toledo and company are back with their first batch of new songs since 2016’s excellent Teens of Denial and what should have been the album of the summer. In any normal year going to hear this live would have been one of the hotter tickets in town, captivating concert-goers with its infectious melodies and soaring spirit, a self-assured danceparty waiting to happen. Instead, like everything else we were left to enjoy it from the confines of our homes, attempting to approximate that communal release from our couch.
2. Run the Jewels — RTJ4: aside from the unending pandemic and the lack of live music, the real reason the previous album didn’t rule the summer was because just after its release, video of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis came out and the country exploded in protest — at a man’s excruciating extinguishing under authority’s knee (8 minutes and 46 seconds of absolute agony to watch), at years of systemic racism and injustice that enable things like that to happen, and at the overall deluge of difficulties that hit people this year, sparking a sense of righteous indignation and outrage that spilled into the streets around the world. Arriving a mere one week later, THIS album — with its focused fury and awakened anger gave folks the music they were looking for and the soundtrack to the summer.
1. Pottery — Welcome to Bobby’s Motel: having come through the previous four stages of tumult, tranquility, exhilaration, and indignation, we arrive at the end and the thing that will ultimately get us across the finish line — pure, unadulterated adrenaline. This is the album I listened to more than anything else this year by a country mile. (As evidenced by almost each of its 11 songs being in my 2020 Wrapped playlist on Spotify.) Whenever any of those previous stages threatened to tip out of balance and overwhelm, this album was there to give you the energy to keep going — to push thru the pain or manage the anger, to snap out of the fog or keep driving towards that daydream future — the one where you can dance amongst friends, drink amongst strangers, and deliriously drift back and forth between the two.