country

If you spent time this year with Courtney Marie Andrews’ wonderful Valentine, Natalie Jane Hill’s Hopeful Woman slots neatly alongside it. Same warm, country-tinged singer-songwriter mode the 70s did so well.

Hill’s voice gets compared to Hope Sandoval and Karen Dalton in the press notes; fair enough, though it’s a sturdier instrument than either. The arrangements are remarkable mostly for how much of them come from one person: Mat Davidson plays bass, fiddle, flute, keyboards and pedal steel, and the record feels fully populated without ever sounding crowded.

Troubadour is a record of genres in conversation. Sag uses on a melodic phrase that briefly nods at Smashing Pumpkins’ Today before settling into something that’s part alt-country, part emo. Other tracks lean folk, country, shoegaze, post-hardcore. None of this is the maximalist everything-at-once approach; the genres are deployed song by song, deliberately, with the range emerging across the album rather than crammed into individual tracks. Singer Brendan Wright calls it “farm emo”, which is both funny and accurate.

It’s a breakup album, but a quiet one. The lyrics circle reflection rather than recrimination, even when the music goes loud. If you want a single comparison, it’s Uncle Tupelo plus Modest Mouse—the alt-country sturdiness of one, the restless dynamics of the other.

Moab and Redwood are the standouts. Both let the band’s range surface inside a single song without losing the deliberate per-track approach that defines the rest of the record.

Cornfield’s first record since becoming a mother in 2023, and it sounds like the perspective shift has unlocked something. The pedal steel (courtesy of Adam Brisbin) threads through the album beautifully—country-tinged without ever tipping into full country, giving even the more vulnerable moments a warmth and sway. It’s her most collaborative album to date, and the guest list reflects good taste and good company: Buck Meek, Feist, Christian Lee Hutson. There’s something worth noting in that openness—becoming a parent seems to have made her more willing to let other voices in, both literally and in how she writes. The themes of renewal and perseverance through awkwardness land without ever feeling heavy-handed. Closer “Bloody and Alive” addresses motherhood most directly, spare and unguarded, and it earns the weight it carries. Highly recommended.