American Songwriter’s Top 50 Albums of 2015

Here are the top albums of 2015 per American Songwriter.

Some excerpts:

47. Iris Dement: The Trackless Woods

For her first record since her 2012 return to form Sing The Delta, Iris Dement looked to the words of the mid-20th century poet Anna Akhmatova. With Akhmatova’s poetry providing all the lyrics, Iris Dement zeroed in on the other half of the singer-songwriter label, stretching and challenging her Arkansas drawl in a series of operatic torch-songs and elegant parlor ballads. The result, The Trackless Woods, is the finest vocal performance of DeMent’s career, a haunting 18-song exploration of loss, faith and freedom that, despite its far-flung lyrical source, still feels like one of DeMent’s most personal statements. That’s partially due to the ease with which DeMent makes Akhmatova’s poetry her own, from the gut-bucket delta country of “Listening to Singing” to the broken-down Merle Haggard wisdom of “Last Toast.” DeMent has been singing about her conflicted relationship with Middle America for over 20 years, but assuming a brand new perspective for the first time (in this case, Akhmatova’s poetry) has let her see it anew.

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37. Rodney Crowell and Emmylou Harris: The Traveling Kind

This legendary duo had worked together sporadically throughout their careers before making it official with the 2013’s stellar duet set Old Yellow Moon. The Traveling Kind is more of the same simpatico excellence. Crowell’s world-weary croon and Harris’ yearning trill weave around each other beautifully on the wistful title track, a reflection on music, aging and old friends. And it goes without saying that they caress the heartbreak ballads “You Can’t Say We Didn’t Try” and “No Memories Hanging Around” with loving care. Each gets a chance to stand out as well: Crowell on the Hank Williams-flavored “Just Pleasing You;” Harris on the tear-jerker “Her Hair Was Red.” There’s not a clunker in this batch of 11 songs, in part because the material, either self-penned or gathered from other songwriters, is impeccable, and in part because the pair can rescue even a potentially maudlin track like “Higher Mountains” with the truth embedded in their voices. The zydeco-flavored “La Danse De La Joie” is their encore, a feisty sendoff for a fabulous set.

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20. Josh Ritter: Sermon on the Rocks

Josh Ritter was one step ahead of his audience when he began work on his followup to Beast in its Tracks, his sparse, vulnerable 2013 breakup album which had immediately become one of the most beloved records in his catalogue. The result, this year’s Sermon on the Rocks, is a wild departure and unpredicted artistic reinvention that nonetheless feels necessary and inevitable the second it begins with the sinister bouncy hop of “Birds of the Meadow.” Ritter brings his trademark word-cramming gothic storytelling to folk dramas like “Henrietta, Indiana” and electronic showstoppers like “Homecoming.” Elsewhere, he experiments with hip-hop cadence (“Getting Ready to Get Down”) and writes yet another classic ode to being a young man in need of a girlfriend (“Where the Night Goes”). Sermon on the Rocks isn’t so much a wild left turn for Ritter so much as it is prime evidence that the Idaho singer-songwriter’s bag of tricks is much bigger than anyone could have ever expected.

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5. James McMurtry: Complicated Game

Once you get past his typically bleak view of life, few singer-songwriters capture the gritty realism of blue collar Americans with the picturesque, faithful and poetic sensitivity of James McMurtry. Whether it’s the detailed descriptions of backwoods meth cookers and gamblers in “Choctaw Bingo” or the effects of Bush-era economic policies on the still relevant “We Can’t Make it Here Anymore” (both from previous albums) McMurtry uses his hangdog voice and earthy wordplay to craft songs like a reporter relating the lives of the poor and underclass from the front lines. The once prolific singer-songwriter has slowed of late, with Complicated Game his first release in seven years. But the rich fiber of his storytelling has seldom sounded so personal and real. There’s plenty of musky JJ Cale shuffle in “Forgotten Coast,” and a subtle bluegrass undercoating to the downbeat “Ain’t Got a Place,” all of which helps make James McMurtry one of Americana’s most honest and powerfully intimate artists. His songs aren’t pretty or frilly but they reflect the shadowy edges of his subjects with dusky and unflinching truth.