I enjoy relentlessly insulting the Grammy awards for being sellouts and just recognizing whatever record is selling the most copies, regardless of actual quality. It kind of makes me a hypocrite, because I shower praise on artists I like for winning them. When Kacey Musgraves took home the coveted “Album of the Year” prize for her third album Golden Hour, I chuckled to myself because of how happy I was despite shitting on the Grammys so hard. I suppose I could amend my philosophy to “even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while” to sleep more peacefully at night.
Golden Hour was a curious album to me at first. Kacey Musgraves wasn’t the first, and certainly not the last, female country singer to break out of the genre bubble and into the mainstream. Carrie Underwood went from singing Dixie Chicks on American Idol to singing annoying country-pop hits that got way too much radioplay. Taylor Swift almost entirely left her country roots behind and became a pop sensation, finding a few gems in a desert of inconsistency. Kacey Musgraves would have to find open space that wasn’t already occupied by one of her kin.
Golden Hour was a triumph because the transition from country to pop was so incredibly authentic. Most genre-crossers leave pieces of themselves behind in the quest for mainstream success. Kacey, on the other hand, was still Kacey through and through. The gentle acoustic guitar and a slight southern twang still take center stage, and deceptively clever lyrics turn the songs into indelible works of commentary on love, relationships, and a longing for something more.
The space that Musgraves would fill with Golden Hour was the role of an indie darling in the realm of country. The primarily conservative country genre was turned on its head a bit, with Musgraves vocalizing support of LGBT individuals and other issues that would make the country stars of old scowl with discomfort. She remained unapologetically herself as her career blossomed.
What makes Golden Hour special is the effortless coexistence of lazy country hits like “Lonely Weekend,” upbeat pop hits like “High Horse,” and emotional ballads like “Rainbow.” The diversity of styles on the record are tied together by Musgraves’ incredibly likable personality. There is no shortage of delightfully humorous lyrics, although she will probably never top “Mind your own biscuits and life will be gravy.”
Musgraves’ vocals are the album’s selling point. Her performances are so clean and so sincere; they take relatively simple instrumentals and elevate them to a higher state of bliss. The closer, “Rainbow,” is appropriately the peak of her career thus far. A tearjerking proclamation of true beauty in a world that feels like its constantly closing in, it features Musgraves as heartwarming and reassuring as ever.
Okay, that’s pretty fucking sappy. But sometimes we need sappy. Others we need humor, and maybe a bit of sass. Golden Hour provides all of these things, and while it isn’t breaking any technical boundaries, it marks the cleanest and most uncompromising transition from country to pop in recent memory, and establishes Kacey Musgraves as a true force to be reckoned with.
Ryan Reviews Music 