Released April 24, 2020
Some albums don’t just speak, they testify. Good Souls Better Angels is one such album. It’s a thunderclap, a wailing prayer, a raw exorcism of darkness and defiance, all delivered through the ragged velvet of Lucinda Williams’ voice.
At 67, Williams didn’t hold back, she roared forward. This album isn’t merely a return to form; it’s an arrival at something deeper and more urgent. With distorted guitars, stripped-back production, and a fury that simmers and seethes, Lucinda trades in the wistful poetry of earlier records for righteous fire. The blues are here, but they’re weaponized, used to call out injustice, to howl at demons both political and personal, and to seek some flicker of grace amid the chaos.
Songs like “Man Without a Soul” and “Bone of Contention” tear into hypocrisy with poetic venom, while “Big Black Train” and “Shadows & Doubts” ache with emotional clarity. And then there’s “When the Way Gets Dark,” a balm, a beacon, a whisper of hope for those holding on.
Lucinda has always written from the gut, from that sacred intersection of intellect, soul, and scar tissue, but Good Souls Better Angels feels especially timely, especially human. It reminds us that rage can be righteous, that truth can be uncomfortable, and that the good souls among us must carry light when the world goes dim.
This is music not just to be heard, but to be felt, in your bones, your bloodstream, your conscience. Lucinda doesn’t just sing the blues. She lives them. And on this album, she turns them into something fiercely holy.
Here’s to Lucinda Williams, prophet, poet, and one of the truest voices America has ever known.
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