New music part 2.

My life is a series of music eras; I go through kicks. Throughout all four years of high school I was on a classical kick; in college it was rock. Post-college I devoured blues and soul; then I swerved to pop and neo-alternative in the 2010s. In my previous new music post in 2016 I heralded James Blake, Active Child, Banks, and Lo-Fang, all acts who are experimenting with the vanishing boundaries of their genres (and a couple who are simply creating their own). And now, after flirting with it on and off for a few years, I believe I have entered the folk era.

Though as with any genre there are various types of folk, the sound I'm most drawn to centers on simple harmonies, acoustic backing, and the kind of simmering melancholy that runs through even songs about real love. Please, keep your twang to a minimum and take your hoedowns elsewhere.

First Aid Kit. I'm leading off with my newest discovery and, I confess, my newest obsession. While giving Pandora literally one last shot to do what it's supposed to, the app brought forth two Swedish sisters singing (in English) robust Americana by way of the 60s. I caved after about three songs and jumped to my Prime music app to listen to the albums proper.

Ruins is Klara and Johanna Soderberg's most recent album, out just a few weeks ago, and it is stunning in its alternating moments of darkness and light, fragility and power, and in its despair. I believe some of the best art is born from loss, and the pain of younger sister Klara's broken engagement courses through the entire album; but wisely, and never wallowing. What I really like about the sisters, musical prodigies who write everything they sing, is how they join upbeat sounds with 'downbeat' lyrics, and how it is not in the least bit jarring. All the same, the tonal universe they craft never loses sight of the melancholy I seek. On "Rebel Heart" they sing "Nothing matters/all is futile" to a march tempo; "To Live a Life" is so delicately beautiful you don't notice at first when one of them nearly whispers "I'm alone now." "Fireworks," an instant crowd pleaser, sounds like an unreleased track from Neptune City-era Nicole Atkins, and the title track is so perfect I'd have to cease with words and use shades of color and light to try and describe what it evokes in me.
But why stop there? There is so much to enjoy on previous albums Stay Gold and The Lion's Roar. As an Amazon reviewer put it, the Soderberg sisters' music is melodic without being hooky, and I'd testify that the benefit to that is getting lost in an entire song, rather than just the chorus. In the lyrics you can already hear their agnostic stance about love, even as teenagers, and in good folk fashion they are able to write and sing about many of life's complexities, not just romance. The songs are compositionally dense, lyrically evocative and melodically effortless; I literally can't say enough good things about First Aid Kit. Even their 2010 proper debut album, The Big Black and the Blue, is worth repeated listenings, if only to be reminded that they were already well on their way to greatness.

The Secret Sisters. Yes, another sisterly duo, this time Laura and Lydia Rogers from Happy Valley, Alabama. I first heard them via the first Hunger Games soundtrack, which was produced by T-Bone Burnett; they contributed the song "Tomorrow Will Be Kinder," which very quickly became one of my favorite songs of all time. It epitomizes the beautiful, almost minimalist folk sound I tend to privilege. However, when previewing their eponymous debut, it was a bit more upbeat, more country than I was into, so I let it pass. When their second album, Put Your Needle Down, came out it was too produced, too outlaw country, too...T-Bone Burnett, the producer. I sadly let it pass.

Last year, after personal and career struggles, the Sisters released You Don't Own Me Anymore, a 12-song set that finally gave me what I was looking for: deep feeling poured out in bittersweet harmonies over burnished melodies that linger in the air for days. "Carry Me" is a standout, their lyrics finally reaching that hidden place only ache can reveal, that they only hinted at in their previous album and mimicked in their debut. It takes its time turning the pages of personal realization - "If I keep on hiding how will I be known?/I keep telling myself that I'm better alone" - and musically is Ray LaMontagne-esque in the best way (meaning, when he was still folk).

There are no low points on the album, but I am drawn to the quietest tunes - like the hushed cover of Paul Simon's "Kathy's Song," its plucked guitar strings seeming to epitomize the drizzling rain; and the album's closer "Flee, as a Bird," with all the solemnity and strange foreboding of a good Baptist hymn.

Overall the album is their slowest and darkest yet, while they make sense of life's caprice, and I'm heartened that fans are still enjoying them nonetheless. Sticking with the Sisters as they continue their journey means that they will be encouraged to give us more.

Hozier. I know, I know - not really folk. But, this is ultimately about music that is new to me, and besides, what's a nice, long folky playlist without a little blues here and there?

I saw Andrew Hozier-Byrne perform "Take Me To Church" on SNL in 2014, liked it, and let it go. Finally late last year I (armed with the power of Amazon's Unlimited Music) listened to his debut album, and was very pleasantly surprised. Though the first five or so songs are upbeat, the latter half of the album gets a little darker, a little more haunting, starting with the curious "In a Week," which finds two lovers either resting peacefully together paying no heed to time, or literally resting in peace together after what I can only assume was a murder-suicide. It is the album's only duet, and Karen Cowley's straightforward, Irish-lilted voice matches Hozier's in a way few collabs achieve. "Work Song" is a favorite, easy and catchy and love-positive, and while "Foreigner's God" is perhaps trying a bit too hard, it is still well done. The quieter tunes, "Like Real People Do" and "Cherry Wine," are the most folkish and cater very well to his baritone.

What I really like about Hozier's music is the way his lyrics seem to almost poke fun at his serial monogamist ways, his ever-hopeful stance on finding love, even as he is, in my opinion, fully aware of the futility of idealized love (captured perfectly in "Jackie and Wilson"). He says that his next album, due this year, will be a bit darker, and I say, bring it on.

The xx. This British trio is all electronica and dream pop, so orient yourselves.

Discovering the near-perfect Ruins this January reminded me of last January's xx release, I See You. Except for the album's opener, which is jarringly dissonant in tone compared to the rest of the set, I See You is a dazzling display of musical sensibility and sensitivity, to melody, to pace, to the importance of the careful creation of soundscapes. Every single song catches you in some way, draws you in to listening closer than you normally do, trying to catch the little tricks and gifts. But the Song of the Year award goes to "Test Me," which begins with an intense devotion to seeing every lovely, melancholy note through before giving way to an electronic interpretation for the rest of it, which allows what came before to be experimented with, explored, reshaped, and called back to in breathtaking, but never outsized, fashion. (Because if you know the xx, you know they never do anything loudly)

Interestingly, much like with the Secret Sisters, this is the album I was waiting for the xx to make. I loved "Islands" and "Shelter" from their debut but skipped the rest, and I wasn't fond of what I heard from Coexist. I guess sometimes, if you patiently wait, musical acts finally find their way to where you wish them to be, even if only for a time.