Celebrating five years of Golden Hour.
The unique, dreamy, country-pop tracks on Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour earned 2019’s “Album of the Year” title at the Grammy Awards, but five years on, the album continues to steal a top place in the musical rotations of loyal fans. If you think you “hate” country music and want to expand your musical palate, take a chance on Golden Hour.
I don’t like country music. Ironically, I have one exception: my favorite album of all time is unequivocally Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour. Upon first encounter, Golden Hour was not my cup of tea. When it won Album of the Year at the 2019 Grammy Awards, I listened to its titular track, “Golden Hour,” for the first time. I wrote off the melody as too simplistic, the lyrics as too cliché, and the infusion of country elements as too unfamiliar. It wasn’t until my cousin claimed, “the only album everyone can agree on is Golden Hour,” as if it were an obvious fact, that I realized I might be missing something. Four years ago, I hit play on the first track, “Slow Burn,” and I haven’t stopped listening since.
For listeners who aren’t country fans — don’t judge an album by its Wikipedia-listed genre. Golden Hour doesn’t quite fall into country or country-pop paradigms. If Billie Eilish, BROCKHAMPTON, and Tyler, The Creator have been hailed as anti-pop artists, then Kacey Musgraves was far ahead of her time, pushing the boundaries of anti-country. Golden Hour is a musically magical, love-filled wonderland, and this March, it turns five years old.
The album begins with “Slow Burn,” which eases the listener into the unfamiliar aura of Golden Hour. The track starts off with a quiet acoustic guitar. At fourteen seconds, Musgraves begins her delivery of the song’s personal lyrics. A banjo (eek! country!) joins the band around thirty-five seconds in. As the song progresses, light vocalizations, more guitar, and a keyboard are gently added into the mix. It isn’t until nearly halfway through the song that percussion, bass, synths, and backing vocals complete its sound. “Slow Burn” is exactly what it purports to be — a musical slow burn. The song never crescendos, gets too loud, or strays far from its central guitar. Yet, it slowly builds into a vibrant and enchanting soundscape. “Slow Burn” is also a cliffhanger: it leaves the listener wanting more. Luckily for them (and hopefully you), Golden Hour has twelve more tracks.
“Lonely Weekend” boasts an air of loneliness both in its title and in its instrumentation. Musgraves sets the scene with melancholy lyrics and a minor chord progression. Yet, she is a master of contrast. Amidst the loneliness, laid back drums, plucky acoustic guitars, and carefree melodies make the listener believe her when she reassures them that “it’s alright to be alone sometimes.”
Positively effervescent, “Butterflies,” the album’s second track, is true to its name, capturing just what it feels like to have butterflies in your stomach. While Musgraves achieves this through intense lepidopterous imagery and metaphor in the song’s lyrics, the music speaks for itself. With a first beat that starts mid-measure, a synth banjo, vibraphones, and twangy reverb effects, the instrumental line of this track keeps the listener on their toes.
While some of the lyrics in “Oh, What A World” feel elementary, the song gets to the heart of what Musgraves does best: using sound to transport the listener to another world. “Oh, What A World” makes me feel like I’m in that Avatar scene with the purple glowing tree, or the part of Life of Pi where the bioluminescent fish light up the dark ocean. The sound of the song itself, electronic yet serene, seems incredibly hard to achieve, but Musgraves does it with ease.
Next up, “Mother” is a subdued deviation from the sound of Golden Hour. Just over one minute long, the track’s form consists of one verse and one chorus, and its only instrument is a quiet piano. Alongside the stripped back music, Musgraves also breaks from her exploration of romantic love to reflect on the bittersweet and foundational feeling of missing your mother.
“Love Is A Wild Thing” is framed as a kind-of riddle, with lyrics that harken back to the album’s natural themes. It sounds folksy, and it isn’t overtly uptempo, but its sweet lyrics and breezy mood make “Love Is A Wild Thing” one of my favorite feel-good tracks of all time.
Unfortunately, we’ve arrived at “Space Cowboy,” which is my least favorite song on the album. Musgraves is typically great at executing storytelling without going too overboard on the country clichés and tacky lyrics. On this track, however, she misses the mark. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that she simultaneously refers to her lover as “cowboy” and compares him to a horse in captivity, the frequency with which she uses the word “ain’t,” the line, “go on, ride away in your Silverado,” or a combination of the three, but the lyrics of this song just don’t resonate. The music itself, though, is another testament to Musgraves’ ability to create soundscapes, with a blend of sparkly synths, pedal steel guitar, acoustic strumming, and whimsical vocalization.
Grippingly introspective, “Happy & Sad” has lyrics that swim in a space between — you guessed it — happy and sad, as Musgraves searches for the words to describe that feeling of finding love. The melody ascends during the chorus and reaches a climax when Musgraves sings, “I’ve never felt so high,” but descends and brings the mood whirling back down when Musgraves sings, “everything that goes up must come down.” Musgraves conveys musically what can’t be articulated with lyrics alone, making you want to happy cry, sad cry, slow dance, and bop to the music all at once.
Up next we have “Velvet Elvis,” which is everything “Space Cowboy” isn’t. The lyrics are extravagantly imbued with references to the “classic” American South: Elvis, Graceland, powder blue outfits, and teased hair. But here, these references feel campy and opulent rather than out-of-touch. The music has a signature country twang, but it’s paired with the right amount of speed and electricity to make it accessible to a broader audience. This year, “Velvet Elvis” successfully secured its place as my favorite track on Golden Hour.
“Wonder Woman” is a song that took some time to grow on me. Its chorus, “Baby I ain’t Wonder Woman/I don’t know how to lasso the love out of you,” initially felt tacky. But after being immersed in the instrumental version, which sounds similar to other songs on the album that I love, and learning to appreciate the imperfection of storytelling, it’s moved into my frequent rotation.
While some of Musgraves lyrics are vulnerable, others pack a punch. If you prefer the lyrical bite of pop stars like Olivia Rodrigo, then “High Horse” is the song for you. This song sounds more like yacht rock than country-pop: it’s laid-back, consistent, and beachy. Back when I was a Golden Hour skeptic, “High Horse” was easily my favorite song on the album, and it remains a staple on all of my summer playlists.
Finally, “Golden Hour” is the majestic masterpiece that lies at the heart of this album. A syncopated guitar provides the steady backdrop for a hopeful, but incredibly vulnerable, exploration of love. It perfectly encapsulates every instrumental and lyrical technique Musgraves implements on this album. If you listen to just one song from Golden Hour, listen to this one.
“Rainbow,” the album’s most streamed song on Spotify, is a simple and quiet finale. The track uses minimal instrumentation to highlight Musgraves’ crystal clear vocals. The song sounds like a typical acoustic pop-ballad, concise and familiar. With rainbow imagery and a dedication to the LGBTQ+ community, it ends the album on a note of hope and doubles down on themes of love.
Golden Hour is a truly singular collection of music. It sounds futuristic, dreamy, and inventive, but it holds firm roots in country music, especially in its lyrical narratives. The album is the perfect soundtrack for spring quarter, so get your headphones ready.
edited by Alyssa Manthi.
album artwork believed to belong to either the publisher of the work or the artist.
