The intuitive bond between the two musicians remains at the forefront of their terrific new album, full of quiet adventures and clear empathy.
Woodland, the first album of original material credited to both Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, takes its name from their longtime creative hub, Woodland Studios, in East Nashville. Since 2001, this studio has been the birthplace of their music, including projects under different monikers—whether it was Welch’s solo work or collaborations like the Dave Rawlings Machine. Woodland Studios became central to their lives, surviving near destruction during Nashville’s 2020 tornadoes, when the duo had to rescue their master tapes and equipment in the midst of the storm.
The building endured, but the repair work was extensive and ongoing. Despite this, Welch and Rawlings channeled their energy into creating music, first with the Grammy-winning All the Good Times (Are Past & Gone), a collection of folk covers, and now with Woodland. This time, the duo share billing, underscoring their inextricable creative partnership. Throughout Woodland, they sing as one, with harmonies and traded leads that emphasize the closeness of their collaboration. This subtle interplay gives the album a warmth that distinguishes it from the starker albums of their past, like 2011’s The Harrow & the Harvest. Grateful for their studio’s survival, Welch and Rawlings leaned into the full capabilities of recording, as Welch told Uncut: “We were so relieved that the studio still existed, so we had an amplified desire to really use it.”
Without abandoning the raw folk sound they’ve mastered, Woodland embraces the possibilities of the studio. There are new textures, like organ and pedal steel, which enrich the vocal harmonies with a gentle touch. Some additions are more pronounced, such as a string section or a rhythm section—elements not seen since 2003’s Soul Journey. These rhythms don’t dominate; instead, the drums and bass provide a pulse that deepens the connection between Welch, Rawlings, and their supporting musicians.
The bond between Welch and Rawlings, however, remains the heart of the album. Woodland has its share of quiet, reflective moments that feel carved from wood: rustic and timeless. Yet even within this familiar territory, the duo continues to find new emotional landscapes. “The Bells and the Birds” has a delicate, intricate fingerpicking pattern that feels unusually fragile, while “Here Stands a Woman” paints an aching portrait of a woman confronting time’s passage. The song echoes traditional folk tunes like Woody Guthrie’s “Danville Girl,” while “What We Had” has a melody that subtly nods to Neil Young’s “Lotta Love,” before it melts into a slow, comforting ache.
For Welch and Rawlings, the past is never far away, even when they look to the future. “The Day the Mississippi Died” imagines an apocalyptic world where the mighty river runs dry. Ketch Secor of Old Crow Medicine Show adds fiddle to this song, weaving through its verses to create a sense of communion between kindred spirits. Secor’s contribution is more textural than overt, unlike the strings that sweeten “What We Had,” pushing the song toward soft rock territory. These graceful, unexpected flourishes are sprinkled throughout Woodland, such as the strings and French horns on “Hashtag,” a tender tribute to Texas troubadour Guy Clark.
Much of Woodland’s studio craft is so subtle, it’s felt more than heard. The melancholy “North Country” gets a quiet boost from pedal steel, bass, and whispered drums. This refined craftsmanship gives Woodland a distinct character within Welch and Rawlings’ remarkable catalog. The album’s quiet adventures and its deeply felt empathy make it a beautiful new chapter in their partnership—a structure built on a strong foundation, but reaching for something new.
