Anaïs Mitchell

If these stories sound less compelling than those of her past work, rest assured that Mitchell’s talent as a songwriter has remained undimmed in the decade since Young Man in America.

Extends the murky, revelatory folk of [Bonnie Light Horseman] with wistful reflections on the passing of time and free-falling in love. [Jan 2022, p.71]

It’s the work of an artist who has succeeded on a big stage now working in miniature, sweating the small stuff with utterly charming results.

What it might lack in energy, Anaïs Mitchell generally makes up for in the beauty of the songwriting and performances. Mitchell’s voice never fails to deliver, wandering fairy-like through each melody while inhabiting the all-too-human yearning in her lyrics. There’s not a note or an instrument on this record that feels out of place, each little horn line or guitar twinkle is intentional and it all comes together into something with all the warmth and coziness of a winter night sitting by the fire watching the snow fall outside.

Anaïs Mitchell is a grownup album. It’s the first great folk album of the year, but more crucially, it’s a quiet personal triumph for Mitchell herself. Disclosing one’s own truths rarely sounds this graceful.