WNXP’s favorite Nashville albums of 2024

Regardless of his significant time in Alaska, the now-Nashville-based Medium Build has found his voice as a chronicler of a particular slice of Southern experience. Unlike the Music Row machine’s need to signal “country” by listing lifestyle qualifications and othering grievances, on his major label debut Country, Medium Build tells stories from the perspective of someone deeply loving but still struggling with the complexities that come with being born and raised below the Mason Dixon.
– Jason Moon Wilkins

In talking about making the album, Elke said, “I’ve always struggled with connecting all the pieces to make something whole…I could be anything.” In Divine Urge she chooses to be everything. Her maximalist approach to the album makes for a frenetic 35 minutes in which every unexpected turn is more fun than the last. 
– Justin Barney

Before her passing in 2017, Jessi Zazu was a monumental figure in Nashville’s indie music scene. Her legacy and influence can be heard in the twang of current Nashville indie darlings (many on this list) and will continue to echo for years to come. Fans found comfort in the fact that they had Those Darlins records and memories to cling to, but longtime bandmate Linwood Regensburg took on the impossible task of finishing Zazu’s final recordings that would become Mama Zu’s Quilt Floor. It’s clear that Regensburg handled this record with care and honor. It showcases his range as well as Zazu’s grit and bravery that will always be remembered. Posthumous music is often tacky, but Quilt Floor is a stunning tribute and a beautiful piece of work. The world needs Zazu’s voice now more than ever, and I think Regensburg knew that.
– Emily Young

This is one of those albums that is like emotional salt. Sprinkle a little on to enhance the feeling. Huge guitar riffs from this Nashville band are punctuated with weepy slide guitar that are so emotionally effusive that they could thaw a frozen heart without even saying a word. But then, when Jess Awh delivers a line like, “You’re a loser and I’m a pariah, but I never liked to keep score,” with no feeling, it’s somehow more cutting that it’s completely emotionless. Good Game Baby is for the yearners.
– Justin Barney

Madi Diaz ponders fear, love and vulnerability in her stellar sixth album Weird Faith. The tapestry she weaves through these songs is true to form for her, continuing to explore the intersections of identity, love and loss with honest songwriting, while still managing to take her storytelling to new heights. She seamlessly blends stripped-down ballads with lush, dynamic indie rock, capturing the emotional spectrum of faith and heartbreak with stunning precision. Weird Faith is sonically full in a way that is fresh and new, yet familiar to Diaz’s past work, while her intimate lyricism on tracks like “Same Risk” alongside the repetitive meditations on “Kiss The Wall” show the full spectrum of her songwriting and how it has grown throughout her career. Through Weird Faith, her voice becomes a guide through doubt and self-discovery, leaving behind a haunting yet hopeful resonance that lingers long after the final track ends. 
– Carly Butler

Joy Oladokun continues to distinguish herself as one of Nashville’s most compelling and distinctive voices. Her fourth studio album, Observations From A Crowded Room, is an unflinchingly honest exploration of vulnerability, offering a window into her personal journey as a Black queer artist. With its hauntingly evocative melodies and profoundly intimate lyrics, the album navigates themes of self-discovery, self-doubt, and self-love. Oladokun’s ability to intertwine introspective reflection with shared human experiences makes this record not just a personal story but a poignant statement for musicians everywhere who deserve their flowers.
– Aaron Monty

From the jump, New Age Rage by the Nashville-via-Philly avant-pop savant and Dr. Dog sticksman is a wild and colorful adventure. Cleverly disguising his cares and concerns about technology wielded for ill in carefree, fun-soaked ’80s funk-pop arrangements, Eric Slick’s latest long-form oeuvre dances playfully across melody and message.
– Dan Digs

Don’t call it a comeback. Gillian Welch and David Rawlings have been right here, working steadily at their Woodland Studio space in East Nashville, including very hands-on work to salvage and repair stuff affected by the tornado that ripped through their creative headquarters in March of 2020. But it’s been years even before that since a full-length record was issued under either singer-songwriter’s name (Rawlings in 2017, Welch in 2011), which made the 2024 release of Woodland a very welcomed return of the duo to our speakers and stages.
Their acoustic guitar interplay and close vocal harmonies are so tried and tested and true, I fancy Dave and Gillian a folk music double helix. Here, the pair reliably breaks our hearts with delicate love songs like “Howdy Howdy” but also expands instrumentation on tunes such as “Empty Trainload of Sky” and (ode to fellow old school troubadour Guy Clark) “Hashtag.”
– Celia Gregory

Brittany Howard’s latest album What Now is truly cosmic. The soundscape is vast and diverse, from the crystal singing bowls that open and anchor the record throughout, to the Hyperfunk, Prince-channeling “Power To Undo,” to the deeply soul-stirring vibes of “I Don’t.” Maya Angelou features in an interlude contextualizing humanity’s minuscule, yet vitally important task to make peace amidst an infinite, indifferent universe. And Brittany’s voice carries the compelling gravity of a black hole, drawing you to her every word whether she is trying “To Be Still” or running out of rainbows, left with “Every Color In Blue” on the album’s expansive closer. It’s Brittany’s universe, and we are just living in it.
– Michael Pollard

No Name was a surprise. Both physically—I remember exactly where I was (Kroger) when I got the call to get myself to Third Man ASAP—and musically. I don’t believe that Jack White has ever released a truly disappointing album, but few have slapped quite as hard as No Name. From the instantly familiar riff of “Old Scratch Blues,” to the howling guitars (and actual howling) of “Terminal Archenemy Ending,” the album delivers punch after punch of exceptional garage rock.
– Jude Mason