Michael Hurley – Broken Homes and Gardens (No Quarter)
Released shortly after his death at age 83, Michael Hurley’s final studio album, Broken Homes and Gardens, captures the “folk prankster with a poet’s soul” in his essential form: digressive, surreal, and ultimately moving. Far from a sombre farewell, the record rings with boundless generosity and youthful exuberance, bolstered by a full band including Luke Ydstie and Rachel Blumberg.
Whether reviving old favourites like The Abominable Snowman or improvising a homespun shopping list on the joyous Fava, Hurley remains an outsider’s outsider to the end. He channels the freaky spirit of his Holy Modal Rounders days on the experimental This and offers a tender, trumpet-mimicking paean to love on the closer, In a Dress. It is a fitting, lively capstone to a legendary legacy—proof that Snock always had more magic up his sleeve.
Gwenifer Raymond – Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark (We Are Busy Bodies)
Welsh fingerstyle champion Gwenifer Raymond shifts her gaze from the gothic to the galactic on Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark. Moving beyond the folk horror of her previous work, Raymond infuses her American Primitive sound with themes of “cosmic horror” and sci-fi, drawing on figures such as occultist rocket engineer Jack Parsons.
The playing remains sturdy and complex. Jack Parsons Blues showcases her signature double thumb-picked prowess with exhilarating speed, while Cattywomp delivers a foot-stamping Old-time rattle. Yet, innovation abounds: Banjo Players of Aleph One utilises unprecedented drones to create a shifting, ambiguous atmosphere. The album culminates in the sweeping steel and eerie noise of One Day You’ll Lie Here but Everything Will Have Changed, cementing Raymond’s status as a guitarist raising the genre to thrilling new heights.
Nathan Salsburg – Ipsa Corpora (No Quarter)
Nathan Salsburg challenges the norms of the solo acoustic guitar genre with Ipsa Corpora, a forty-minute continuous piece that serves as a duet between the instrument and silence itself. His first solo acoustic record since 2018, it functions as a meditation on anger and despair, yet frequently shifts into bucolic whimsy, as seen around the thirteen-minute mark, where deep introspection gives way to lightweight, high-string ditties.
Mastered by Chuck Johnson, the recording is clean and deeply personal, akin to Steve Gunn’s Music for Writers in its authentic connection to the artist’s current state. Salsburg’s technical mastery allows him to load elongated pauses with as much emotion as the notes themselves. Moving from gentle sadness to light joyfulness, Ipsa Corpora is a profound, demanding, and ultimately beautiful achievement that rewards focused listening.
David Grubbs – Whistle from Above (Drag City)
David Grubbs returns with Whistle from Above, a minimalist yet expansive album inspired by his recent archival dives into his former band, Gastr del Sol. Centring on the magic of collaboration, Grubbs enlists a diverse cast—including Rhodri Davies (harp) and Andrea Belfi (drums)—to flesh out his sparse piano and electric guitar compositions. The result covers vast emotional terrain within a forty-minute runtime.
Grubbs balances beauty and unease perfectly. The patient innocence of Hung in the Sky of the Mind is disrupted by metallic shards of sound, while The Snake on its Tail evokes an approaching electric storm. From the offbeat picking of Queen’s Side Eye (featuring Nate Wooley’s trumpet) to the haunting cello sweeps of Nikos Veliotis on Poem Arrives Distorted, this is a masterclass in collaborative minimalism from an eternally fascinating artist.
Park Jiha – All Living Things (Glitterbeat Records)
Korean multi-instrumentalist Park Jiha evolves her sound on All Living Things. Departing from the raw, metallic textures of The Gleam, she now blends “straighter” traditional playing with subtle electronic manipulation to explore the cycles of life. The result is a softer, more luxurious soundscape that remains meticulously spacious.
The instrumentation is stunning. The yanggeum (hammered dulcimer) anchors the hypnotic Grounding, while the saenghwang (mouth organ) evokes the fragility of spring on Bloom. Park navigates vast emotional terrain, from the eerie, unsettling atmosphere of Growth Ring to the childlike hope of the glockenspiel-led closer Water Moon. By turns humbling and enchanting, All Living Things confirms Park as a “magician of sound,” deftly balancing the beauty and savagery of the natural world.
Liam Grant – Prodigal Son (VHF Records)
Acoustic guitar virtuoso Liam Grant makes a thunderous debut on VHF Records with Prodigal Son. Following the excellent Amoskeag, Grant unleashes a “raucous” set where acoustic guitars are “blasted to tape,” creating a distorted barrage of wood and metal that hits like an electric storm. Opener Palmyra sets the tone, utilising Jack Rose’s old Weissenborn guitar to create a sound often mistaken for electric lap steel.
The album is anchored by two thirteen-minute epics: the thrilling, rapid-fire 12-string workout Salmon Tails up the River and the calmer, piano-like beauty of Insult to Injury. Whether reworking a Loren Connors tune on the cyclical A Moment at the Door or nodding to his touring trio with the ragtime closer Old Country Rock, Grant is flexing hard. Confident, powerful, and totally rocking, Prodigal Son celebrates the acoustic guitar’s raw power.
Marlon Williams – Te Whare Tīwekaweka (Self Released)
Marlon Williams turns to the indigenous language of his ancestors on Te Whare Tīwekaweka, a majestic album born from a desire to regain stability following the lingering trauma of the Christchurch earthquake. Sung entirely in Te Reo Māori, the record is a vibrant “modern classic of global music” that blends his Ngāi Tahu heritage with a vast array of sounds.
The stylistic range is immense. Aua Atu Rā channels Roy Orbison over jangly tremolo guitars, while Me Uaua Kē offers a slice of balmy Tropicália. From the African folk textures of Kei Te Mārama to the pensive piano duet with Lorde on Kāhore He Manu E, Williams crafts a set defined by solidarity and ceremony. Expansive and deeply spiritual, it is his most brilliant collection of pop tunes and rootsy rhythms yet.
Iona Lane – Swilkie (Self Released)
Highlands-based songwriter Iona Lane affirms her role on the ecological front line with Swilkie, a masterful album forged during island residencies on Eigg, Mull, and Sanday. Lane’s practice revolves around the conservation and myth of Scotland’s wild places, creating songs from unusual, detailed perspectives.
The material ranges from the gentle, hopeful lilt of Wild Things Grow to the miniature epic Torus, which charts humanity’s changing relationship with basking sharks. Recorded intimately by producer Andy Bell, Lane’s expressive acoustic guitar anchors rich arrangements featuring Jenny Sturgeon‘s vocals and Malin Lewis’s melancholic fiddle. The title track, named after a treacherous tidal current, uses a haunting list of shipwreck salvage to underscore the sea’s beauty and danger—a captivating blend of storytelling and moral clarity.
Varo – The World That I Knew (Self Released)
Dublin duo Varo (Consuelo Nerea Breschi and Lucie Azconaga) return with The World That I Knew, a stunning collaborative project that celebrates the city’s vibrant folk scene. Produced by John ‘Spud’ Murphy, the album features a different guest on every track, including Lankum’s Ian Lynch, John Francis Flynn, and Junior Brother. Despite the revolving cast, the duo maintains a remarkable consistency, blending lace-like textures with an “underlying eeriness.”
The album navigates history and politics with fierce compassion. Skibbereen delivers an uncompromising famine narrative, while Sweet Liberty tackles oppression with formidable harmony. Closing with a dreamy take on Ewan MacColl’s Alone, Varo tracks contemporary concerns through traditional song, creating a cohesive work of beauty, resistance, and deep communal spirit.
The Burning Hell – Ghost Palace (BB*Island / You’ve Changed Records)
Mathias Kom, the literate and acerbic frontman of The Burning Hell, takes his fixation with the apocalypse to a new level on Ghost Palace. Moving beyond the “final days” snapshots of Revival Beach, this album adopts a post-human perspective, looking back on our foibles with deadpan wit and “spaced-out neutrality.”
Collaborators Ariel Sharratt and Jake Nicoll flesh out the sound, which ranges from the future folk-funk of Luna FM to the upbeat indie-rock of Summer Olympics. Kom’s lyrics remain the star, blending the profane and profound as he navigates a world of traumatised circus bears and lonely DJs on the moon. Densely layered yet brimming with bonhomie, Ghost Palace is a funny, wise, and strangely hopeful farewell to the world we know.