Doesn’t it feel like the Grammys never get it right? Year after year, music’s most prestigious awards body eagerly crowns inconsequential works from titans of centrist pop and aging rock stars, showing little regard for the masterpieces that are nominated alongside them. That’s why it felt so good to watch Kacey Musgraves glide on stage in 2019, a vision in bright red silk, to take home Album of the Year for her magnum opus, Golden Hour.
One of the most impressive records in recent memory, Golden Hour sent Musgraves’ conscious country through bright pink, kaleidoscopic psychedelia. “Love is a Wild Thing” and “Slow Burn” saw her filling out more traditional moments with elegant, airy electronics, while “Lonely Weekend”—and especially the disco-leaning “High Horse”—were meaningful expansions into the pop space. The real success of Golden Hour, though, is how firmly planted in its center Musgraves feels, her colloquial lyrics and indelible charm anchoring her no matter how much she broke her own mold. After having established herself as a singular figure within country music, someone who, on songs like “Follow Your Arrow” and “High Time”, flouted Nashville’s rigid structures, Golden Hour felt like an underlining of that: She wasn’t playing by anyone’s rules, and she didn’t have to.
Though the successes of Golden Hour raised her profile to new heights, it also raised the stakes surrounding her next project. After divorcing her husband Ruston Kelly, Musgraves penned a breakup album alongside Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk—the same team who helped craft Golden Hour, and who have since written songs with MUNA and Maggie Rogers. Her split from Kelly fueled Star-Crossed, a proper pop pivot delivered alongside a Lemonade-esque, feature-length music video. Critics and fans alike met Star-Crossed with a cooled reception, with many bristling against the anonymous production and heavy-handed writing. You will find it marked down at the record store for years to come.
Earlier this year, during a commercial break at yet another Grammys ceremony, Kacey Musgraves teased her return. The verdant clip saw her looking serene, gazing out over vast fields and the New York skyline. The only time we heard her voice was at the end, as she sang “My Saturn has returned.” That astrological acknowledgement of life’s next stage opens “Deeper Well,” the title-track and centerpiece of Musgraves’ fifth album. Grounded and graceful, Deeper Well serves as a much-needed course correction for Musgraves—both personally and artistically. She’s shed the baggage of Star-Crossed, no longer writing with bitterness, ego or pop aspirations. Instead, Musgraves’ latest offering is refreshing, rife with clear-eyed songs about morality, personal growth and new love.
“Deeper Well” is a measured recitation of all the ways she’s twisted and grown into the person she is today, shedding old habits and trimming the dead weight. Though Kacey Musgraves is throwing out her gravity bong, her songwriting still carries the acid trip clarity she found with Golden Hour. On “Sway,” she likens herself to a palm tree in a stormy wind, taking the pressure but never buckling underneath it. Both moments feel less like consequential songs, more much needed exhales, things she’s saying for herself.
This is also Musgraves’ most sonically cohesive album to date, every song pulling from the same muted, pastel palette. And yet, there is still enough variation to keep things interesting from song to song. “Moving Out” and “Giver/Taker” are both doses of breezy soft rock, but tonally each track feels unique. The former is meditative, and Musgraves sounds as though she’s just watched the years spent at home blow past her at once—the tree out front growing and dying in a flash. The latter takes its spartan instrumentation and soars. Musgraves doesn’t really belt—her voice is better suited to a mode that’s a bit more fluid than talk singing—but here, she takes a moment to really go for it. “Giver/Taker ” is a song built for fans to hold up lighters (or phone flashlights) to, swaying along in unison.
While Musgraves primarily pulls in aspects of various ‘70s icons like the Eagles, Simon & Garfunkel and even Stevie Nicks, the most direct pull is from a 2004 adult contemporary radio classic. “Too Good to Be True” samples the melody of Anna Nalick’s “Breathe (2AM).” Thankfully, Musgraves isn’t falling into the trap that many popular musicians are today, where sample based songs get more craven by the day. Instead, “Too Good to Be True” is subtle, the sample tastefully worked in.
There’s a saying that you can find printed on knick-knacks, or even sewn into throw pillows: “Cardinals appear when angels are near.” It’s a phrase used to comfort those who have lost a loved one, the beautiful red songbirds acting as an otherworldly friend visiting them. This is a comfort Musgraves takes on “Cardinal,” the winding opening number. Led by “Hotel California”-tinged guitar flourishes, the song takes flight, becoming an immediately engrossing, driving folk rock journey. In the quiet moments of its bridge, Musgraves asks the bird directly: “Are you just watching and waiting for spring, or do you have some kind of magic to bring?”
“Cardinal” isn’t the only nod to the other side here, though. One of the most beautifully done songs on Deeper Well is “The Architect.” In a reunion with her longtime co-writer Shane McAnally, Musgraves pulls inspiration from the quiet power of acoustic guitars, “The Sound of Silence”-style. As is typical of the songs the pair writes together, “The Architect” is as funny as it is moving. Musgraves questions grand, divine design while admiring the beauty in even the smallest things. “Is it thought out at all, or just paint on a wall?” she wonders.
It’s been more than a decade since Kacey Musgraves’ debut, Same Trailer, Different Park, put her on the map. Listening to Deeper Well, you become fully aware of how much has changed since then. Fans of her more-outspoken streak might be let down by the decided levels of maturity on display here. Those who hoped she’d return to the glittery dancefloor of “High Horse” or “Butterflies” will be disappointed. There’s nothing here even approaching it—though the weakest track here, “Anime Eyes,” does have lyrics about unicorns and rainbows. Deeper Well isn’t an album that’s interested in instant gratification. Instead, it asks that you breathe in, exhale and take it in with as much grace as you can.
Eric Bennett is a music critic in Philadelphia with bylines at Pitchfork, Post-Trash and The Alternative. They are also a co-host of Endless Scroll, a weekly podcast covering the intersection of music and internet culture. You can follow them on Twitter @violet_by_hole.
