6. Not Even Happiness / Julie Byrne

Julie Byrne's lush folk album is a natural beauty.  The deserts of Utah.  The alluvial plains of Iceland.  The misty ridgelines of Hawaii.  Not Even Happiness alighted in every listening location like a native bird settling into its habitat.  The record's wandering, meditative psalms to nature and the heart were a healing balm during 2017, no matter where The D Man went.

Amid stunning production values, Not Even Happiness showcases Byrne's expert arrangements, fluid fingerpicking, and gorgeous alto, as she moves through tales that incorporate the land and her traveling spirit, at once earthy and ethereal.  Music this subtle and profound is too undervalued in this era; we are fortunate to sway over the rolling fields of Byrne's hermetic visions.

("I was made for the green / I was made to be alone")

Primarily recorded in her hometown of Buffalo, with string arrangements recorded in a cabin in New Hampshire, Byrne's second album sounds like it bubbled up from the natural springs of this vast continent, destined to run from river to sea after countless cycles of winters and suns.  Her voice and lyrics evoke pastoral scenes.  Verdant fields.  Doves over prairies.  Stars from a back porch.  Lights flickering in the distance.  Miles to go before sleeping and loved ones waiting somewhere.

("I have dragged my lives across the country / And wondered if travel led me anywhere")

With quiet authority laced in the deep husk of her voice, Byrne prods intimate emotional responses: love, worry, wistfulness, sadness, and desire.  Her dignity and self-possession allow strength in solitude, as she finds the sublime in passing moments that should be met with careful attention.

 ("Will I know a truer time / Than when I stood alone in the snow?")

I've been seeking God within, Byrne sings.  Ironically, she finds the Divine in the elemental, circling in the world's silence or abundance, her pristine observations capturing it, if only for a fleeting moment.