Here is every album to receive four stars or higher this year in our Album Review Roundup.
FIVE STARS
Nathan Evans Fox
Heirloom
Each of these 12 extraordinary songs touches, either outright or obliquely, on the peculiar tension of “gettin’ above your raisin’,” when your birthright falls somewhere on the Venn Diagram of southern x Appalachian x poor. And each does so with Fox’s rare gifts of wit, intellect, and compassion, along with his mastery of frugal language. He minces nary a syllable here and says exactly what he means to say.
Taken as a whole, though, what makes Heirloom so extraordinary is how Fox ultimately rejects that “gettin’ above” ethos in its entirety.
These are songs about embracing, powerfully and without apology, the beauty and sources of pride in that “raisin’,” and how it’s possible to be smart, to make space at your table, and to refine your bullshit detector without being obligated to perpetuate generational shame and trauma.
The specificity of Fox’s references– Sevin Dust, brainworms as fishing bait, nascar retaining walls, TN Gov. Bill Lee– bring an authoritative POV to his narratives, while he wrestles with questions of when to sit with something difficult and when to punch up.
Ultimately, it’s about nuance.
Heirloom, both aesthetically and thematically, is about how damaging it is to view things– country music, “red states,” and so on– as a monolith, because so much of real value gets lost to those broad strokes.
It’s an album about putting in the effort to understand other people and to give a damn about their stories, on the hope that they’ll do the same for you and the people you love. In a time of such deep distress for so many, that message makes Heirloom something to treasure, indeed.
Queen Esther
Blackbirding
Her magnum opus, this set astonishes for the effectiveness of each individual track and for its artfully woven throughlines. These songs foreground resilience and black experience in narratives that highlight systems of oppression in recent history and present.
It’s an album about how oppressed people attempt to reclaim power and agency, and Queen Esther reads 2026’s room correctly, knowing that such a message must be delivered with authority and without apology.
And no one in this space is better equipped to do that; hers is a singular talent.
She grounds her arrangements in a true mastery of country, folk, and blues conventions, and then she upends those conventions with the improvisational phrasing drawn from her background as a gifted jazz singer.
Every aspect of her art is disruptive, and long may she reign.
Emily Scott Robinson
Appalachia
Have we already heard the finest album of 2026? Setting aside that this is the best singing Robinson’s ever done– which says an awful lot on its own– and that her writing here is a refinement of her already superlative understanding of form and structure, this album stuns.
Each of the songs here scans quite deliberately as a powerful rebuttal to the ongoing and increasingly vocal attacks on empathy. The characters she’s written about here are, to a one, given a story of struggle and resilience, and Robinson’s performances convey why those stories matter to her.
As with the finest country music, Appalachia foregrounds shared human experience as something that elevates all of us when we’re actually open to giving a damn about someone whose life may not be exactly like ours.
It isn’t just a brilliant record in a technical sense; it’s a vital, important one.
FOUR and a HALF STARS
Marisa Anderson
The Anthology of UnAmerican Folk Music
At a time when contemporary American “folk” is so often terrified of either sounding like or saying much of anything at all, Anderson’s de-centering of American folk conventions makes for an essential listen that’s thoughtfully curated and expertly performed.
Willow Avalon
Pink Pocket Pistol
What she accomplishes with this sophomore effort is precisely what all-timers The Chicks and Miranda Lambert accomplished with their second albums: A dead-on assessment of what did and didn’t work on the debut and a refinement of what did work, executed with clarity and purpose.
And like the genre’s greats, she understands the importance of a fully-realized persona and why that matters infinitely more than “authenticity.” The first-person details she peppers throughout these larger-than-life narratives are wholly believable because of the singular voice she uses to tell them, not because of some exegesis of who any specific line is really about.
It allows Avalon to build a character over the course of these songs, and that character is one of the most brash, unapologetic, and self-aware the country space has seen in the mainstream-adjacent space in ages.
Joined by collaborators– Midland, Kaitlin Butts, Jason Isbell– who absolutely get it and are in on every joke, Avalon is a woman who owns her shit and is utterly exhausted by everyone else’s. She can tell a no-good SOB that he’s got “Work to Do” because she’s already done the work herself.
It also matters that she has a deeper grasp of country as camp than anyone in the genre since Laura Bell Bundy. And, like Bundy’s, Avalon’s humor won’t land well with the people she’s punching (up, always) against, and she’s self-assured enough to be unbothered by that. But she’s taking aim anyway.
Eric Bibb
One Mississippi
As ever, what makes Bibb a genre titan is how he pairs the wisdom and POV of a forward-thinking folkie with a generational mastery of traditional blues conventions. This collection of narratives is among the most empathetic, deeply human of his storied career. Essential.
Boy Golden
Best of Our Possible Lives
A heady, introspective triumph that explores many a corner of the ol’ frontal cortex, and on songs that twang and swagger and land a few punches. The balance between neuroses and optimism impresses, as does the subversive queering of genre conventions.
Cat Clyde
Mud Blood Bone
Clyde’s never stitched her diverse influences together into something as cohesive and compelling as she has on this new career peak album. The most thrilling moments (“Press Down,” “Wanna Ride”) marry punk and blues ferocity to honky-tonk forms that place Clyde at the midpoint between Wanda Jackson and Exene Cervenka, but with even greater vocal range and power, and hallelujah.
The quieter tracks are no less captivating, highlighting Clyde’s gifts for introspection, gallows humor. Even in the alt-country revival, this set occupies a unique space.
Haylie Davis
Wandering Star
The exhausting Olivia Rodrigo discourse dictates that I, a mid-40s white guy, only like this record by a Gen Z woman because it scans in a specific rockist way. What I like
most about this record is how unafraid Davis is of super twangy arrangements.
This doesn’t scan as greige Americana or even alt-country so much as it foregrounds some straight-up trad country signifiers in ways that many of her peers avoid.
But I also can’t not comment on how, yes, Davis’ vocal tone, timbre, and phrasing recall precise alt-rock women, and that’s great, too.
At times, this sounds like the proper country record that Nina Gordon or especially Tanya Donnelly (!!!) always should’ve recorded. Davis is a tremendous singer, in other words, and in ways that are unique in today’s country space.
And like other Gen Z artists– Rodrigo, for sure, but also Carter Faith, Willow Avalon, and Braxton Keith here in the country universe– she draws from a deep well of influences without being overly beholden to those influences in ways that are derivative.
Davis’ savvy and skill impress far beyond the discourse.
Jessye DeSilva
Glitter in the Dark
I miss her overt forays into the country space, where her queering of genre conventions is a singular and needed form of protest. But note, too, how “Love on the Road” here is fully of a piece with the Ella Langley moment the genre’s women are having with 80’s Country.
To that end, Tasjan’s production work is his savviest to date, setting Jessye’s essential narratives in new contexts, every single one of which enhances her candid storytelling. Her singing on this record is no less triumphant, showcasing every facet of her technical and emotional ranges.
What makes the album so vital, though, is its tension between having confidence and finding joy in one’s authentic self and having very urgent doubts and fears about a world where that very self is met with hostility. The album is timely as a document of the trans experience in 2026 and timeless as an expression of radical, profound empathy.
In that way, she still hits on the best of country, while she, ALT, Lafemmebear, Butch Walker, and Adia Victoria (!) also explore punk rock joys, ancient folk horrors, and dancefloor ready bangers. An essential listen.
Magic Tuber Stringband
Heavy Water
Inspired by the environmental impact of a nuclear plant on a rural community, this set of instrumentals is a fascinating and heady work that embeds looped found elements into meticulous and convention-upending Appalachian folk music. Truly disruptive.
Charlie Marie
Signs
She’s pivoted away from pure trad-country to a more varied aesthetic, which is perfectly attuned to these thoughtful songs, which burrow into feelings of displacement and restlessness during and post Covid lockdown era. She’s using more idiosyncratic vocal phrasing, too.
Highest of praise, truly, that the style and the vocal technique are in conversation with early Tami Neilson records: Marie’s classic genre smarts are obvious, and she ties that know-how to a POV that’s thoroughly modern.
A most welcome return after a break from music, and one of the year’s best.
Ashley McBryde
Wild
Compared to Lindeville, this exploration of her journey to sobriety doesn’t hold together as a concept album in the same airtight way, but certainly such a journey isn’t a linear one, so a bit of structural drift here actually reflects that process at a macro level.
So, too, do the very high highs she achieves with her songwriting here, offset by a few songs that stand out for being more strident in their imagery and ineffective in their lyricism. But those highs reaffirm her as a generational talent, especially in the mainstream-adjacent space.
Perhaps what’s most striking is the clarity and power in her performances. Always a sneaky great singer, she’s now fully in control of her instrument in ways that weren’t apparent on her prior albums. She sings of wilder days here, but she’s singing like she now understands how great she really is.
Kacey Musgraves
Middle of Nowhere
For the barbed wire-sharp humor, singular POV, and deep cuts genre savvy, this is actually the album everyone insisted her solid enough debut was. Which is to say that it’s less a return to form than it is a significant refinement and progression of her form.
It’s the consistency and focus that serve her best, and leave it to an artist of Musgraves’ caliber to show how the dreaded “maturity” tag can still mean “savagely funny” and “unapologetically hard-up and horny.” And her spectacular vocal phrasing choices make it impossible not to love this for her.
Of course she’s savvy enough to be on trend with where country stands at the moment, and she brings her (deeper) well of genre knowledge to bear, whether she’s invoking Connie Smith’s phrasing, evoking a classic Hag melody, talking shit with Miranda, or enlisting a Mariachi band.
The “since Golden Hour” read is silly given that it’s only her third album since that deserved crossover triumph. Daresay this might just be her best album, full-stop.
India Ramey
Villain Era
She’s never been one to suffer fools, but this empowered version of Ramey is not concerned if fools who cross her happen to suffer themselves. She’s put in the very real work to heal from her own traumas, and the songs here are a triumph of one woman’s liberation.
It’s subversive for Ramey to set these songs that foreground her agency as a modern woman over a twangy as all get-out, honky-tonk version of country.
Because it’s the tension between her sense of self and that same traditionalism– in both form and values– that would cast her as a villain.
Ramey’s fully aware of that irony and leans the whole way into it, leaving no doubt as to how little regard she holds for those who might judge her decision-making. She leaves no doubt as to her status as one of modern country’s most powerful and singular talents, either. An essential, career album.
Aubrie Sellers
Attachment Theory
The read on her remains the same: She sounds just like her mama, if her mama was fronting an early-aughts garage band. And that read remains essential and a near perfect alignment to my own tastes. It’s baffling that so few others have tried this exact style.
But perhaps that’s because others lack Sellers’ particular and peculiar skill set.
This is the most interesting and most consistent set of songs she’s yet recorded. She goes deeper than mere “pop psychology” here and digs into her own and her partners’ interior spaces (“Little Rooms”). Essential.
River Shook
River Shook
The great irony, of course, is that it’s the genre’s loudest authenticity fetishists who’ll piss and moan about Shook having crafted this solo debut as an expression of living as their authentic self, consequences be damned.
Shook knows this, of course, and leans in.
The irony of their craft and what they’ve accomplished here is that the album is often formally conservative in ways that create a tension with narratives of living a truth that, in 2026, makes far too many people uncomfortable.
Twangier than their work as a bandleader, this retains their singular singing and narrative voices while getting even more personal in their songwriting. In that way, this functions as both a welcome return and a reintroduction to Shook as one of the most vital and important artists in the country space today. An essential listen.
Brit Taylor
Land of the Forgotten
Already a generational talent, Taylor levels up on this new album. She’s twang- and empathy-forward, and these songs would make her a genre superstar in a better timeline. She leans into complexities of her E KY home, highlighting stories and people who matter.
Tony Trischka
Earl Jam 2
Thanks to an utter murderer’s row of guests, this sequel to one of the finest bluegrass records in recent memory actually holds up to its predecessor. His collaborators rise to each of these moments, fully understanding the assignment Trischka set before them.
Various Artists
Outlaws’ Almanac
A powerful collection spearheaded by Lizzie No, who always understands the assignment. In this case, she has assembled a cadre of similarly clued-in peers– and No’s peer group includes only the savviest of contemporary artists– to assess The State Of Things.
So many of the most vital and disruptive voices in the greater country universe are here: No, Kaia Kater, Nathan Evans Fox, Olivia Ellen Lloyd… This roster represents who we want at our own crowded table.
The songs they tackle all take a broad approach to protest music, emphasizing connection, communication, and empathy. As a playlist, the album stands as a testament to contemporary humanism, filtered through traditional folk forms.
That works and is important because No and Co. understand that living without apology as a person from the marginalized communities they represent is perhaps the most outlaw thing a person can do in 2026. These are artists whose communities are quite literally in danger, often as a matter of law. This is an album about leaving “outlaw” posturing to Music Row’s white men with their invented grievances and claiming one’s own space.
FOUR STARS
Calder Allen
Fault Lines
In almost every way, Allen actually achieves what it’s been alleged Parker McCollum does well. A sneaky great singer whose writing betrays both a sardonic streak and a knack for a hook, Allen’s brand of TX country is built for much broader appeal. His sharpest set to date.
American Aquarium
New Ways to Lose
With Shooter Jennings’ insistence on making every band he produces sound interchangeable, it’s up to BJB’s songwriting to retain the band’s singular identity. He is, of course, up to that task, refusing all apologies for foregrounding his empathetic POV.
A couple of songs are perhaps a bit too on-the-nose, but even those work in the current post-subtlety climate. And I’m not an “animal person,” but damned if he didn’t have me more than a little choked up about his dog (“Favorite Hello”), which is a fine testament to his storytelling skill.
Courtney Marie Andrews
Valentine
She continues to take greater control of the power and clarity of her voice; at her best, she’s giving Ronstadt, and what a thing to say. The album explores deeper textures within her polished brand of Americana. Do I love the flute? I do not love the flute.
It’s also missing some of the big hooks and choruses of her … Strangers opus. But what works best about the record, beyond the glorious singing, is the specificity of the interpersonal dynamics Andrews explores. These songs capture relationships that feel real and feel like they matter.
Band of Heathens
Country Sides
Their most twang-forward record in a minute, and that suits them as well as it ever does. Outside of the collab album with Hayes Carll, though, this is also the most sharply written record from this crew in a minute, too. Fix you a plate, y’all, it’s good stuff.
Sam Barber
Broken View
A significant leap from what was a solid, promising debut record, this set leans hard into a “dirt emo” aesthetic that’s perfectly suited to his natural gifts. The result is one of the most consistently compelling and listenable examples of that specific form.
Barber stays on the right side of the line between narratives that give good mope and those that wallow in self-pity and navel-gazing, and good on him for recognizing that distinction. He varies his vocal performances, too, in ways that showcase a real command of what he’s intending to convey.
Ryan Bingham and the Texas Gentlemen
They Call Us the Lucky Ones
The combination of his sharpest lyrics and most weathered singing make for what’s handily his best work in over a decade. The TX Gentlemen fully earn their credit here, too, with crackerjack performances that understand where Bingham is in this moment.
Carsie Blanton & The Burning Hells
Everything is Great!
What it lacks in subtlety, it makes up for in savage humor, a playful approach to folk conventions, and tunefulness across a range of protest-ready styles. This is what it sounds like when a folk singer has actual convictions beyond generating content.
Leah Blevins
All Dressed Up
She explores a wide range of early 70s country styles throughout this brief 10-song cycle. This would work even better if there were a more consistent throughline from track to track in terms of style, but she’s as effective on a trad-country weeper as she is on a cosmic country rocker.
Best of all is “Centerfold,” a slice of swamp funk that imagines what Jerry Reed’s music might sound like in 2026. She’s a singer of real clarity and presence, and her writing showcases a far richer POV than did her 2021 debut.
And, for as vocal a detractor of his work as I’ve been, this is Dan Auerbach’s best– and least Dan Auerbach sounding– production work since Dee White’s debut record… or perhaps even The Black Keys’ El Camino.
Which is to say I didn’t realize it was him until I checked the credits post hoc.
Momo Boyd
Miss Michigan
Young upstart provides another prime example of how, in recent years, it’s been women of color who have been doing far and away the most interesting work with the entire construct of (Miss) Americana. Armed with a singular voice and POV, she’s one to follow solo and with Infinity Song.
Catherine Britt
The Hardest Thing
Both for the superior quality of her writing and singing and for its concept– a long narrative arc about the phases of a doomed relationship– this set favorably recalls Allison Moorer’s landmark The Hardest Part from a generation back. Britt’s finest work to date.
Jay Buchanan
Weapons of Beauty
Expanding on his work with Rival Sons, Buchanan offers a captivating take on cosmic country soul. The versatility of his singing impresses, as does the most intuitive and least fussy production Dave Cobb’s done in a minute. A progressive vision for “Americana.”
Melissa Carper & Theo Lawrence
Havin’ a Talk
Indeed, the vibe is conversational and casual in all the best ways, and it’s as charming as their solo efforts always are. It’s not quite as essential as their solo records, but that’s perhaps too high a bar to set for a purely fun side project like this.
Caleb Caudle
Heavy Thrill
Plenty good already, Caudle levels up on this set, which plays out in every meaningful way like an early Rodney Crowell record. Which is to say he’s an empathetic, humanist songwriter and a sneaky-great singer. And he’s got a bit of a sardonic streak, too.
Laura Chavez
My Voice
Quite the accomplishment that Chavez truly foregrounds such a distinct voice on an instrumental album: Her guitar-work is absolutely first rate, and the breadth of her arrangements on these originals and ace covers showcase a fully formed POV as a musician.
Ricky Chilton
Ricky Deluxe
In every way, this is the deluxe edition of his whole deal. The entirely too clever hooks, the nods to both punk and honky-tonk, the OTT drag revue of the persona, they’re dialed all the way up. And it’s dialed up in a way that showcases the talent behind the shtick.
Luke Combs
The Way I Am
It’s been a generation since a country star of this actual magnitude– Kane Brown’s the closest analog, and he’s not (yet…) sold out multiple nights at Wembley Stadium in the UK– has attempted a pivot toward introspection this sincere and this consistently executed.
In an era when genuine thoughtfulness and empathy are values held in outright contempt by the country genre and powerful cultural arbiters, it matters that Combs continues to push in this direction.
Sure, the writing on Kip Moore’s latest was sharper overall, but Moore’s not of the same stature.
So for Combs to balance some actual radio-ready bangers– ones that don’t punch down at or show contempt for people he views as beneath him– with songs about gratitude and hard-won wisdom, it makes for an album that, if not an all-timer on its own merit, nonetheless is important in this moment.
And, for more context of how he and we got here, Marissa’s absolutely tremendous profile of Combs in this week’s GQ (!) is the required reading.
Charley Crockett
Clovis
A pivot from the aesthetic of his Sagebrush Trilogy is in no way a surprise; the quick timing of that pivot, even by his speedrunner standards, gives whiplash. Still, this is a looser and bluesier set that plays more to his skill set than did … Ram. Carry on, sir.
Kashus Culpepper
Act 1
We’ve been beating this drum for a few years now, and this overdue debut proves this man ought to be one of 2026’s real breakout stars. A commanding presence on record, his performances are a marvel of both power and phrasing. Songwriting can be a bit underbaked at times.
Still, the question is whether this specific record label– Big Loud, giving “Look, our token black friend means we aren’t problematic!” here– is actually going to put their resources into making him into a bona fide star. With this album, Culpepper’s certainly done his part in that regard.
Kashus Culpepper
Act I: Summer Nights [EP]
He sounds more settled, aesthetically, on this set of 80s-era R&B-forward country– think Babs Mandrell moreso than “Crisco”– than on his solid enough debut album earlier this year. It’s a good pivot. And, as ever, his vocals elevate even the lackluster material.
Mikaela Davis
Graceland Way
Another standout alt-country record for ’26, Davis’ third and best album to date is giving The Globe Sessions, and that’s always a welcome gift. What the polished set lacks in innovation, it more than makes up for with Davis’ top-notch quality writing and singing.
Natalie Del Carmen
Pastures
Her debut announced one of Gen Z’s finest singer-songwriters, and this second outing finds NDC leveling up in a major way. These songs perfectly capture that mid-20s pressure to figure out the exact kind of adult you aspire to be on your best days.
She’s also figured out that it’s both the people and the places around her that will get her to where she wants to be, even if she’s not in much of a hurry.
Beyond the incisive songwriting, the heft of her singing impresses, as does her use of fiddle and steel as anchors, not authenticity props.
Della Mae
Magic Accident
An outfit that just gets more self-assured on every record, they lean into their unimpeachable technical know-how and their force of personality on this set. They’re magic, yes, but it’s no accident. This is a new peak for a truly gifted band who know who they are.
The Deslondes
Don’t Let it Die, Vol. 1
It isn’t the depth, it’s the breadth of this band’s talents that is their greatest virtue, and that is showcased perfectly on what’s one of the finest covers albums in a minute. The final three tracks, especially the Shelby Lynne cut, are jaw-droppers. Love this crew.
Drivin N Cryin
Crushing Flowers
Venerable alt-country titans haven’t lost a step. What’s impressive about this set is how purposefully frayed the edges of the arrangements are, in ways that sound on-trend for what their direct descendants (Ratboys, MJ Lenderman, et al) have been doing with their form.
The Droptines
Drought Flower
The alt-country revival continues, and few bring more robust senses of melody, tunefulness to the form than this outfit. The writing is particularly sharp, and they’ve enlisted a few like-minded collaborators (Zandi Holup!) to bring their vision to bloom.
Jason Eady
Tulsa Turnaround
Impressive that, as he has continued a long arc from “singer-songwriter” to “bandleader,” he’s never wavered in terms of quality-control or focus as a writer. Which is to say that the emphasis here is on smokin’ arrangements, but the songs still hit as prime Eady.
Kalyn Fay
DORO (a.k.a. Garden)
Fay’s extraordinary voice has long belonged in the conversation of how indigenous women are reclaiming “Americana” in both form and principle. This stellar set adds to a long list of recent albums in that vein, and with some of Fay’s most pointed and poignant writing to date.
49 Winchester
Change of Plans
If they’re looking to make further mainstream inroads, this ace record should do the trick. A more polished version of what’s always made them such a distinctive outfit, this walks a fine line between “sell out” accusations from assholes and embracing big ambitions.
Sophie Gault
Unhinged
In form and content, Gault’s third and best album nods to the heaviest parts of Lambert’s landmark Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. If not up to that exact challenge– who is?– Gault acquits herself brilliantly on this lived-in set of ace covers (Buck Owens! In 2026!) and originals.
Kezia Gill
All on Red
Some lyrics are too reliant on genre tropes, but Gill’s powerhouse voice and her incorporation of trad Irish flourishes into her rock-leaning style make her a distinctive presence on record. A more conventional but still compelling take on euro-country than EURO-COUNTRY.
Amy Grant
The Me That Remains
For its introspection, empathy, and folk-forward brand of Americana, this set recalls Behind the Eyes in all the best ways. The songs explore matters of aging and legacy with real self-awareness, and how to reconcile that and extend grace when the world around you in no way resembles the better world that you’d spent your punchier years fighting for.
There’s some Normie Liberal sentiment, but her politics are too sharp and too nuanced to dismiss as cringe: Opener “6th of January” stuns for taking the Boomers to task on one of the year’s best singles.
Grey & Greene
Grey & Greene
On the heels of a killer solo album and the Cindy Walker tribute she spearheaded, this collaboration with Les Greene continues the absolute tear Grey DeLisle has been on. She’s responsible for some of the most exciting work in the greater country universe these last few years.
This set finds her paired with an artist with similar aesthetic sensibilities and vocal firepower, and they cut loose on a collection of rockabilly, cowpunk, Southern soul, and honky-tonk bangers that bring a modern POV to their vintage sounds. And it closes with a just-perfect capstone cover, too.
Andy Hedges
The Westerner
A thoughtfully curated and written collection of cowboy songs and recitations, performed with reverence for the form and Hedges’ first-rate skill. Dom Flemons (!) contributes some fine picking, and I kind of lost my mind when true icon Ramblin’ Jack Elliott showed up.
The Highwomen
Live at the Gorge 2023
The singing on these live tracks actually betters the studio recordings in most every instance, and the additions to their album’s tracklist (their ace cover of “The Chain,” “Delta Dawn” with Tanya herself, Hemby’s “The Bees”) only build upon their overall cohesive vision.
The Infamous Stringdusters
20/20
Unimpeachable as ever, it’s this venerable outfit’s commitment to their craft and continuous improvement that sustain them. They could so easily have settled for being predictable, but this set has plenty of surprises and verve. One of their best efforts.
Iron & Wine
Hen’s Teeth
On one hand, there are no real surprises here; on the other, I’ve been very much surprised by how much I’ve been drawn to the specificity of his songwriting and clarity of his singing on this album after having found him godawful dull for more than a decade running.
The duet with I’m With Her, who feel like they’re on a well-earned victory lap these days, and the fact that a guy in this country-inflected contemporary folk space is actually singing in tune both carry an awful lot of weight.
The “folk horror” album art is a nice bonus, too, fwiw.
Jade Josephine
Giddy Up!
The best moments here are a fusion of cutting edge hip-hop with traditional, twangy country, while other tracks flip that script and blend modern pop-country with old school hip-hop beats. What impresses most is that she knows exactly where those differences lie.
Braxton Keith
Real Damn Deal
Finally, one of the neo90s traditionalists shows up with some actual songs and not just a bunch of obvious genre pastiches. In every way that matters, Keith hits all the notes and actually hears the music, and he’s shown up with a fully developed and outsized persona.
He’s also shown up with a voice that sounds a lot like a young Tracy Lawrence with a steadier sense of pitch, which sets him immediately apart from his interchangeable peers. So, too, does his incorrigible sense of mischief: His jokes either punch up or make himself the punchline.
While he still needs to learn to edit– not all 15 of these tracks are quite up to the task– the highs here (“I Ain’t Tryin’,” “I Own this Bar,” “White Walls”) actually back up the bluster of the album’s title. Quite a surprise, this one, as the best Music Row debut from a male act in a minute.
The Kruse Brothers
Heartbreak & Honky-Tonk
The edges are still rough enough to appeal to my alt-country sensibility, while the craft and overall style actually learned the right lessons from 90s radio country without resorting to mere mimicry. Catchy as all get-out and with great lead vocals. I’m fully on board.
Ella Langley
Dandelion
Big picture, she has delivered the exact right album to capitalize on the momentum that’s making her a true superstar, and all credit to her and her collaborators for understanding the stakes and the ways to meet the moment without sacrificing too much along the way.
The writing is not as consistently sharp as on her debut, but the highs are just as high, and they also, importantly, are the songs that foreground her interior life and agency. She continues to develop a clear persona that’s interesting and valuable because it emphasizes personal growth.
Tellingly, it’s the tracks that nod to Music Row trends that she isn’t setting herself (“Be Her,” “You & Me Time”) that could’ve been edited for thematic cohesion and quality control. When she, West, and Lambert lead, their work here is inspiring and distinctive, and it’s thrilling to hear a current artist whose influences – Janie Fricke, Juice Newton, and Earl Thomas Conley are all over this record – go farther back than the hits of their own childhood, and one who creates a direct throughline from what women of Kitty Wells’ era put up with to today.
And, for as much as I’m still on the fence about her politics, her work itself is in no real way problematic and actually challenges some of those perceptions. This is going to end up as one for the all-time canon, and that’s worth celebrating.
Jim Lauderdale
Country Super Hits, Volume 2
Would that we lived in the part of the multiverse where that title were our shared reality, and that Lauderdale was truly the genre hero he deserves to be. Hell, I’d settle for living in an era when lip-service to 90s country meant artists were still covering him.
Instead, Lauderdale remains country’s forever Cool Uncle, and unc’s cool enough to adopt that role with self-awareness and humor.
This collection of songs are, to a one, a testament to his commands of song structure and economic language, and he’s somehow singing better than he ever has. Heroic.
Meels
Across the Raccoon Strait [EP]
A few moments when the quirk veers just a bit too far into affectation, but the remainder is so charming and odd and funny that it doesn’t matter. Smart enough to know exactly what joke she’s in on, and skilled enough to hold it all together. Utterly delightful.
Miguel Mendez
The Summer Everything Sucked
I’m tapping the, “Irony is corrosive,” sign, but I’m also not going to be such a hard sell on something that, in its best moments, imagines a foul-mouthed Stephin Merritt cross-pollinating chamber pop with cosmic country. First of his albums I know; correcting now.
Tift Merritt
Sugar
Her best album since Tambourine a lifetime ago, and it is not particularly close. She shakes off the Americyawna trappings with a ramshackle, loose-limbed set that allows her to cut loose with her most soulful, evocative singing and sharpest writing in literal decades.
Midland
Stages
Not a knock against them that they remain far better at choosing quality songs than at writing those songs themselves, and this is perhaps their most consistently curated album yet. They even turn in a credible SteelDrivers (!) cover, and authenticity fetishists can stay mad.
Ashley Monroe
Dear Nashville [EP]
Opens with a reflection on not being the Next Big Thing you were supposed to be, then expands into reflections on being unsure of how you ever even know the adult you’re supposed to be. God, she’s just so great, and particularly good singing on this set, too.
Willie Nelson
Dream Chaser
If not quite of the caliber of the pinnacle of his late-late-career run, this is nonetheless as lovely and melancholy as those records. The way he continues to understand how his aged voice works to enhance a song remains a marvel of self-awareness.
Emily Nenni
Movin’ Shoes
Delightful, both as a genre pastiche in its style and as a thoroughly modern take on matters of the heart in its POV. She’s funny without making a whole big thing about it, and she’s just as capable of breaking a heart or two. Solidifies Nenni as an essential act.
Rissi Palmer
Perspectives [EP]
Two ace covers and two even better originals might not be enough to capture everything that makes Palmer such a treasure, but it sure makes for a welcome return. Her singing here is so effortlessly great, and she packs so much wisdom, genre know-how into this set.
August Ponthier
Everywhere isn’t Texas
The kind of record that’s an antidote to the stuffy greige of the previous decade-plus of Americana, and hallelujah for that. Unapologetically queer, subversive, and funny— and a great singer, too– Ponthier makes an auspicious and distinctive debut here.
Ruben Ramos
Los Días de Calor
A legend of Tejano gets his flowers thanks to Carrie Rodriguez, who produces and brings in some ace collaborators. His performances are effortlessly smooth as he glides across genre lines. The “Cryin’ Time” (!) cover sets the tone early and showcases his essential talent.
Ratboys
Singin’ to an Empty Chair
The sound is mid-00s alt-country– I hear the short-lived Only Children, and Amen to that– while the songwriting POV is a precise, generation-specific brand of mid-20s neurotic and self-doubt. If they’re this year’s breakout from this space, it’ll be well earned.
Mon Rovîa
Bloodline
A stunning and timely set to open the new year, this finds him refining his mastery of folk conventions within a broader aesthetic range. More range in ^tempo^ would be welcome, but it’s still so impressive how he hits both internal and external targets w such precision.
Andrew Sa
American Rough
A truly auspicious debut that queers a slew of different genre conventions with a real sense of purpose and clarity. Sa cut his teeth in Chicago’s cosmic country scene, but his overall style might better be described as cabaret country. Kid’s a crooner in every sense.
To that end, his vocal tone and heavy vibrato, fittingly enough, actually recall early ANOHNI in some of the best moments, to highlight how immediately singular a sound he’s created here.
A few moments skew perhaps too far into pastiche, but Sa is onto something compelling and is one to watch.
SOBI
life will be easy again
An artist in the contemporary folk space who can really and truly sing and who isn’t afraid of the occasional genre signifier? Hallelujah. She leans hardest into melody-forward pop, but there are flourishes of dobro and honky-tonk piano, too, and she’s a clever lyricist.
Souled American
sanctions
Venerable alt-country titans (yes, really) haven’t lost a step. What’s impressive about this set is how, despite a 30 year recording hiatus, they still sound ahead of their time when it comes to their singular brand of knotty, proto-bootgaze. Welcome back, fellas.
Swamp Dogg
Contemplates the Afterlife
Continues the late-career tear he’s been on, bringing to bear his incorrigible personality and sense of mischief on a collection of songs that aren’t as deep as the title suggests but that do consider a few big questions. He remains a national treasure.
Anna Tivel
Animal Poem: B-Sides
Understandable, thematically, why these didn’t make the album proper in 2025, but would that [insert any problematic fave]’s A-sides could touch Tivel’s scraps. Knotty and dense and, to a one, a marvel of construction, these make for a near-essential bonus.
Tennile Townes
The Acrobat
She’s dropped the ill-fitting bids for US country radio crossover play, and the result is a career-best effort that in every meaningful way – vocal tone and timbre, stripped-down arrangements, incisive narratives – recalls the best of Lori McKenna, who guests here.
Vandoliers
Afterglow [EP]
Opens with a clear-eyed mission statement, then backs it up with four tracks that find this crew at their sweaty, rowdy best. If it’s too brief a set, hearing Jenni Rose snarl, “Grab my purse and my gun,” as she hits the ground running is still such a 2026 mood.
Joshua Ray Walker
Ain’t Dead Yet
And how fortunate that is, truly. If not as conceptually sound as 2025’s Stuff, his singing on this collection is his strongest to date, and on a thoughtful cycle of songs that wrestle with big questions of mortality and legacy with his flairs for both humor and drama.
The War and Treaty
The Story of Michael & Tanya
Start-to-finish, this is the closest they’ve come to an album on which the songs and production are fully up to the task of matching their singing. This record reaffirms that theirs is a story, like their best-in-class vox, that deserves to be heard far and wide.
Don Williams
Epilogue: The Cellar Tapes
Longtime producer Garth Fundis more than did right by Williams in restoring these unearthed vault tracks in such a way that this plays like what would otherwise have been a worthy late-career addition to his catalog. “I’m the One” ranks among his loveliest work.
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