What Quiet Country Albums Have Folks Been Sleeping On This Year?

It's almost November, which means we are on the eve of either the most wonderful or most awful time of year, depending on where you're coming from: List Season. I'm a list lover, personally - I love getting people excited to talk about music, and cueing each other in on songs and albums that have moved us most this year is nothing but a joyful thing to me (which is easy to say when you aren't the one being ranked, I realize). But in a year very dominated by a handful of very visible country artists, it's easy to lose sight of all the great records that haven't scored Billboard number ones or dropped balls from the ceiling or made waves for any number of undoubtably awesome things. I'm talking about the quiet records: the ones that didn't have big splashy headlines or radio hits or massive marketing plans. That just existed, as beautiful works of art - and ones that easily can get lost in all of the noise.

Natalie already captured a bunch of these in her best-yet roundup, and I really do have to echo a lot of what she says here: especially Emily Scott Robinson's Appalachia, which is, to me, the epitome of a great, quiet country album. Not in what it says or how it presents itself - Robinson is such a strong writer, and her stories are told with such clarity and conviction - but in how it exists in the world. It's the kind of work that gets missed when you look towards the flashier projects or the ones that work well for a TikTok algorithm, but offers endless rewards if you take the time to let it be a part of your life.

Another one? Tenille Townes' The Acrobat.