Ruston Kelly has never shied from the spiritual in his music, but this fourth album finds the Nashville-based singer-songwriter in an especially metaphysical mindset. Following his 2023 album *The Weakness*, *Pale, Through the Window* comes after a pivotal time for Kelly, who chronicles a period of reflection, healing, and blossoming love in these 13 new tracks. Kelly recorded the album live in Nashville alongside his touring band and longtime collaborator/producer Jarrad K (Morgan Wade, Tommy Prine), and there’s a subtle looseness in the music that comes from this intimate setup. The opening title track is built atop reverbed vocal harmonies, stacked for a gently mesmerizing effect that mimics being in the same room as Kelly and his crew. Lyrically, that song finds Kelly yearning hopelessly for a lost love, finding only himself instead. “Wayside” laments society “shouting from their phone” and highlights Kelly’s prowess as a melody writer, with a driving, sticky verse hook that breaks open at the chorus, while on “Waiting to Love You” he dips back into the rootsy pop rock of earlier fan favorites like “Mockingbird.” Kelly closes the LP with “All In,” a deeply confessional love song about fully committing oneself to another person, no matter how scary the prospect.
Sarah McLachlan’s first album of originals in 11 years fortuitously arrives in the same month as the premiere of *Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery*, a documentary that celebrates the trailblazing legacy of her all-women festival. And in many respects, *Better Broken* serves the same function in 2025 as Lilith Fair did in the ’90s, by providing a safe space for fans to gather and wallow in all the feels. With boygenius producer Tony Berg behind the boards, *Better Broken* sees McLachlan effortlessly integrate herself into a contemporary singer-songwriter landscape she helped create, with the title track reintroducing us to the folk-schooled storytelling, trip-hoppy textures, and hair-raising vocal turns that made her an adult-alternative icon. As ever, McLachlan masterfully distills relationships to the most intimate details (“I want to feel the shiver/Your fingers writing poetry on my skin,” she sings on the dustbowl devotional “Long Road Home”), while delving into their messy aftermaths with unflinching resolve: The post-breakup piano ballad “Wilderness” just might be the most elegant “fuck you” to an ex ever written. But while its songs take the form of deeply personal heart-to-heart conversations, *Better Broken* is very much tuned into the socio-political tumult weighing on all our lives—the tender piano serenade “Only Human” is the musical equivalent of a shoulder to cry on, with McLachlan offering words of encouragement to beaten-down souls like the world’s most sympathetic life coach. And if McLachlan is several decades removed from her Lilith Fair mobilization efforts, uplifting self-empowerment anthems like “One in a Long Line” and “Rise” show the festival’s feminist fuse still burns brightly inside her.
Nostalgia has always been at the heart of Kaarl’s music, ever since the release of his debut single, “Amor Viejo,” in 2018. While his Mexican roots are deeply embedded in his work, the Chihuahua-born singer seamlessly weaves in elements reminiscent of dream pop and folk-rock bands like Beach House and The Lumineers—bittersweet keyboard solos and evocative nocturnal moods. Following the global success of *Paris Texas* in 2022, Kaarl embarks on an even more ambitious journey with *ULTRA SODADE*, which balances the folk austerity of acoustic guitars with the lush indie textures of atmospheric keyboards. On “recuérdame x siempre.,” the yearning for a love that lingers in memory unfolds over a sweeping orchestral arrangement, ambient night sounds, and the steady pulse of a beating heart. Meanwhile, on “dime,” Kaarl reflects on intimate moments from the past, asking his lover if she still wants to be by his side. His voice is delicate, imbued with raw sincerity. *ULTRA SODADE* once again reaffirms his creative synergy with his brother, producer, and longtime collaborator Bryan—a partnership that has never felt sharper, marking one of their most inspired creative peaks yet. In Kevin Kaarl’s existential universe, introspection and the beauty of music become our allies in healing old wounds. The journey’s end may be painful, but it is also transformative. Kevin and Bryan Kaarl walked Apple Music through some of their favorite tracks on the record. **“dime”** Bryan Kaarl: “We used a tambourine to give it a richer rhythm, something people could dance to with their partner. And the bass—I feel like it’s the most important part of this song. It’s vital.” Kevin Kaarl: “It’s a slow song that you can dance to with someone you love. When I wrote it, I wasn’t really sure what to do with it. I wrote it for a girl—I had the melody and the guitar, but Bryan, my brother and producer, was the one who gave it that essential touch with the percussion. That folkier feel. This song reminds me of what love really is. I want to hear people sing along to the final ‘la-la-la-la.’ That’s the intention. It’s the only love song on the album—a love letter.” **“ULTRA SODADE”** KK: “Every instrument you hear on this song was played by Bryan—except for my voice and guitar. It’s beautiful. You can hear Cesária Évora singing with her stunning voice. I have immense artistic respect for her. The sample is something I absolutely love.” BK: “The producer of this track is Nsqk. I sent him the song, and he sent it back like this—fully finished. We believe this is the most unique track on the album. It stands apart from the rest, and that’s thanks to Nsqk’s production. He’s an artist we truly admire, and we love having him on the album.” **“ya no me llames”** BK: “It’s like a release—letting go of frustration. It’s not really a sad song; it’s more of a special track. It has a lot of movement and a more uplifting energy. Through the production and the music, we wanted to amplify that feeling. That was the goal. If you listen to the song and read the lyrics, you might think it’s a sad song. But what I love about it is that, while the lyrics carry sadness, the rhythm and melody are bright and upbeat. It’s a blend of both emotions.” KK: “Bryan really understood the vision for this album’s production and the style I wanted to achieve.”
Jamey Johnson’s string of aughts and early-2010s albums remain some of country music’s most beloved releases. On those records, the Alabama-born singer-songwriter captivated fans with his once-in-a-generation voice and masterful storytelling, influencing stars like Chris Stapleton and Miranda Lambert. This first release from Johnson in over a decade finds him still in fighting shape, his voice as rich as ever and his perspective as charmingly cranky, too. Opening track “Bad Guy” is a slinky slow burn that lets Johnson stretch his legs, drawing out notes and taking his time over a loping beat. He lies back and takes it easy on the title track, which sounds influenced by Willie Nelson and Jimmy Buffett in equal measure. Randy Houser joins Johnson on two tracks: the big and brassy “Trudy” and the last-call ballad “I’m Tired of It All.” Johnson recorded *Midnight Gasoline* at John Carter Cash’s Cash Cabin studio, once owned by Cash’s parents Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. Johnson recorded other albums there too, which are slated for a future Cash Cabin series.
California singer-songwriter Jensen McRae’s cut an impressive figure over the last few years, from her striking breakout single “Wolves” and her debut LP *Are You Happy Now?* to a profile-raising stint opening for Noah Kahan on 2024’s Stick Season tour. Her sophomore bow *I Don’t Know How But They Found Me!* finds the 27-year-old taking her confessional folk-rock style—equally influenced by Tracy Chapman’s raw lyrical expressionism and Taylor Swift’s melodic grandeur—and blowing it up on the widest screen possible. Over bell-clear production courtesy of studio wiz Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee), McRae’s songwriting breathes like never before, from the countrified and Phoebe Bridgers-esque “Savannah” to the closely-mic’d piano ballad “Tuesday,” which features McRae leaning into her sturdy lower vocal register and spinning the type of quietly devastating lyrical gestures she’s become renowned for: “If you spent a day in my shoes/You’d know how it feels to be used.”
On Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler’s third collaborative project, they expand their ambitious scope, building out the collection as a full-length album as opposed to the EP lengths of the first two iterations. The meeting between these two solo artists is one of the most impressive connections in pop and folk music. On *brent iii*, their chemistry is on full display, again turning in an album of rich instrumental arrangements and harmonies. Take “i miss you,” an acoustic lament that looks back longingly on the good old days of a relationship. The duo worry that they’ve become faces in the crowd, diminished from their once proud place as loving partners to the subject of the song. They sing: “’Cause I miss you/Is this exactly what you thought we\'d become?/Do you see me how you see everyone?/’Cause I need you.” Few make heartbreak sound as sweet as Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler.
Josh Ritter has an unusual name for his artistic muse: “Honeydew.” Determined to reconnect with the ever-elusive creative spark that felt more accessible in his younger years, the 48-year-old singer-songwriter wrote this collection of songs addressed to his muse, recording the collection with producer Sam Kassirer (Craig Finn, Walter Martin) and Ritter’s own Royal City Band. The resulting album is kaleidoscopic in sound and subject, with trippy song titles like “Truth Is a Dimension (Both Invisible and Blinding)” and “The Wreckage of One Vision of You” hinting at the expansive kind of introspection Ritter called forth. Opening track “You Won’t Dig My Grave,” with its chiming piano and rootsy production, doesn’t reinvent Ritter’s sonic wheel, but there’s a new wildness in his voice as he considers the trials and tribulations that have marked his life thus far. “Honeydew (No Light)” lets Ritter get a little weird, as he writes mythical figures like Prometheus into his own personal history while a mandolin, accordion, and synthesizer find oddball harmony in the margins of his tall tales. Other highlights include “Kudzu Vines,” a sludgy, begrudging ode to the “vine that ate the South,” and closing track “The Throne,” a frank and compassionate acknowledgment of the “burdens never meant to be shouldered” that accompany modern life.
