Marty Robbins’ music presents an idealized, but never schmaltzy vision of the American West. Plus, he has a voice for the ages.

Pearson’s songs pull no punches as he chronicles all of the ugly, nasty, and shitty things that bring about a relationship’s end.

Cadiz’s self-released debut conjures up June Carter Cash and Patsy Cline as much as Joanna Newsom.

Annelle’s songs encapsulate entire tiny little worlds of sound, conjuring up dim images of broken down places and darkened rooms pregnant with memory and longing.

This could’ve been a compelling EP but it’s an overlong and thinly-stretched full-length.

Intended as a soundtrack for one of the most (in)famous exploitation films of all time, there’s very little that feels exploitative about this.

Pascal Humbert’s cinematic music conjures up images of rundown desert locales and holes-in-the-wall.

Beau Jennings’ music won’t immediately grab you but its simple charms and honest emotion will grow on many listeners.

Yet another solid release from one of the most consistent groups of musicians currently working in North America.

This collection of early demos and live material reveals just how fully formed the band’s sound was right from the beginning.

Knife in the Water’s rare gift for blending the grotesque and the lovely makes their music worth tracking down.

From the start, John Orth’s songwriting is notable for its strangely cryptic and elliptical verse.

Blacklisted combines elements of country, goth, and punk to make a twangy mix that fires up and fades away.

Folklore further cements 16 Horsepower’s reputation as one of the most original and vital acts in the world today.

In truth, Frazer’s voice is what truly sells this album for me.

One of the best things going in the alt-country scene today.

A little slice of Americana right there in your stereo, albeit one that’s dimly lit and sorrowful.