I received Jolie Holland's debut in the mail a little over a year ago. It's called Catalpa, and at that time it was self-released (the album's since been rereleased on Anti). The album packaging was exceedingly simple; the title card a one-sided piece of cardboard with "(C) 2002" written in Sharpie (Jolie's handwriting?). But within moments of slipping it into my CD player, I was arrested, compelled, smitten. Her voice is thick, run through with ribbons of highs and lows, smearing tones. It dips and lilts. Her writing is simple, traditional, but without pretense. In this, as in much else, Jolie Holland recalls the genius of Gillian Welch. Without David Rawlings' guitar-work, Holland's recordings feel simpler, plainer, but not less beautiful. No less sad. It's bluegrass that's only rarely hokey, songs reverent and resigned. Holland's new record, Escondida, is out very soon.

You should listen to these. They're pretty special.

Jolie Holland - "Roll My Blues". Catalpa has a dusty and lofi feel, a woman in a small room with sun filtering through the blinds. Jolie sings quietly, unremarkably, swallowing blame with a nod and a strum. Nothing pushy here, just the small truth, the sincere little blues. "Never have I longed so dearly," she smiles, "My mind sees you arrive so clearly." This is a song that flutters and glimmers and feels like it could blow away.

Jolie Holland - "Do You?". The opening words (the round, long vowel sounds) are sung with such slow, true honesty. (Soul and mind and life and heart.) The track comes slowly to life, like earth warming at dawn, and when the haze of cymbals breaks I can feel the fingers of the sun falling on my face. A long, high whistle - a (wo)man on a mountaintop, staring down. The words tumble out like a Yo La Tengo confessional, but the music is stronger and purer (and obv. more Appalachian), rolling toward the little rosy-lipped surprise at the end. (From Escondida.)