Like most Lewis & Clark students, I have dipped my toes in the indie folk pond. You have your classic stomp-and-holler tunes for the metaphysically vegan, à la The Lumineers. You have people with pop influences like First Aid Kit, whose album “Ruins” was the only thing I listened to in the summer of 2019 (for normal, not-angsty reasons). You even have artists like Bon Iver, who experiment with electronic influences and create some of the most moving songs I have ever heard. However, on the whole, the vast majority of artists in this genre are singer-songwriters.
This will not be an essay on what TikTok has done to acoustic folk music; I am saving that for my upcoming chronology of how social media has debauched our generation. But to say that there is so much bad folk music out there would be an understatement. It is an epidemic that terrifies me to my core.
My point is that even though I love indie folk, I have pretty high standards for what constitutes enjoyable music. Not every yuppie with an acoustic guitar can earn the privilege of making it into one of my playlists.
Yet, amid the sea of desperate mediocrity, one artist has consistently captured my attention and admiration: Christian Lee Hutson. His particular blend of emotionally resonant lyricism, well-executed production and humility makes him an endearing character in the contemporary indie folk music scene.
With each album, Hutson adds maturation and development to his repertoire, showcasing the evolution of his music with charm.
I first discovered Christian Lee Hutson in 2020 when I watched a Phoebe Bridgers video she made for Amoeba Music. She talked about some of her favorite records at the time, one being Hutson’s “Beginners” which she produced. I then proceeded to make all of the music Bridgers mentioned in the video my entire personality, such is the nature of being fourteen during quarantine.
I have listened to Hutson’s first two records on and off since they were each released (“Beginners” in 2020 and “Quitters” in 2022). But it was not until this summer that I started mainlining those songs like a sixteen-year-old AP student discovering Adderall. Ripping a dart at 9 p.m.? I am putting on Hutson. Crying in my classroom at my summer teaching job because a child made fun of my acne? I am putting on Hutson. Whether I needed a soundtrack for my existential dread or just a quiet moment to breathe, Hutson was there. Naturally, when I heard he was dropping a new album, I was ready to lose my wretched mind.
Hutson’s album “Paradise Pop. 10” came out on Sept. 27, and I listened to it while conducting my nightly Pinterest scroll. I was immediately struck by Hutson’s ability to weave characters and stories into each line of his music. There is a deep familiarity with insecurity and loneliness in this record, but it is always embedded into the context of relationships. Hutson’s subjects are observant, noticing the small details of their dilemmas and contemplating the nuances of their emotions.
But the thing that I have always admired most about Hutson’s writing is that it does not feel didactic. Hutson’s perspective of life as a game which one may win or lose is rendered with a matter-of-fact tone that conveys a sense of acceptance rather than judgment. He presents life’s complexities as intrinsic elements of the human experience, weaving them into his lyrics with a casual honesty that feels refreshingly unforced. This approach allows listeners to feel as if they are sharing in his observations rather than being subjected to a sermon. Hutson’s acceptance of life’s unpredictability, including the inevitable losses and victories, adds depth to his storytelling. Instead of imposing his views, he crafts narratives within this angle that resonate on a personal level, encouraging listeners to reflect on our own experiences while feeling understood in our vulnerabilities.
The pacing of the album is well balanced. It begins with a lo-fi song and transitions into one of the album’s more upbeat tracks, “Carousel Horses.” I enjoy the elements of rock that Hutson integrates into this song, who cites the band My Bloody Valentine as an influence. The rest of the album settles into Hutson’s familiar rhythm of catchy acoustic melodies and introspective lyrics that draw you in with their authenticity. The quieter, sparser tracks are purposeful in their use of space, allowing the listener to fully absorb the weight of Hutson’s lyrics.
The backing vocals throughout the album contribute to the rich musical ambiance Hutson curates, and feature voices from Bridgers, Samia, Katy Kirby, Kaylee Stenburg (from Ethel Cain’s band) and Hutson’s girlfriend Maya Hawke, who also co-wrote several songs on the record.
Lyrically, this album continues Hutson’s exploration of themes of lost love, growing up and dealing with the consequences of your life. Tracks like “Autopilot” and “Skeleton Crew” ruminate on the ephemerality of moving through relationships. His ability to articulate feelings of yearning and hope is grounded in clarity, creating narratives that are both personal and emotionally universal.
Overall, “Paradise Pop. 10” solidifies Hutson’s place in the indie folk realm, demonstrating his growth as an artist while remaining true to his style. It is an album that not only reflects his personal experiences but also invites listeners to consider their own. With each playthrough, I find new aspects to unpack, leaning into the complexity and enjoyability of each track. Hutson has proven yet again that he is not just a Bridgers-adjacent musician in the indie scene but a captivating voice worth listening to. So as I wade through my own melodrama, I can always count on Hutson’s tunes to remind me that it is okay to be a little messy.
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