A CLOSER LISTEN weekly #70.5

A Closer Listen’s Favorite Fall Albums

Listen up, friends, Richard and Jeremy have compiled:

A Closer Listen’s Favorite Fall Albums

Thanks to climate change, autumn arrives later than ever before; but by now, the leaves are changing and in many cases falling everywhere across the Northern Hemisphere; flocks of birds are flying overhead, and a chill rests in the evening air.

A Closer Listen’s Favorite Fall Albums completes the set started by The Year’s Best Winter Albums, which is still our most-viewed post of all time.  As with prior installments, we select music redolent of the season; and just like we separate winter from Christmas, we separate fall from Halloween.  (For scary music, head to our article Music for Haunted Houses, which was followed by six additional yearly charts.)

What does autumn sound like?  Fall is the season of bonfires and hayrides, apples and pumpkins, changing colors and falling leaves.  The emotions of fall can run in opposite directions: from a feeling of loss to one of discovery.  Many artists delve into the darkness of fairy tales and fading light, but some celebrate and even dance, proving that fall doesn’t have to be melancholic or even scary, but can be a source of inspiration and energy.  We hope that you’ll enjoy our selection of A Closer Listen’s Favorite Fall Albums!

Our cover image comes from the closing track of Dark Sines’ The Space Time Paradox, found on the Ceremony of Seasons label.

Belong ~ October Language (Spectrum Spools; originally released by Carpark, 2006).
The New Orleans duo Belong exploded on the scene with their debut album in February of 2006: a perfect recording that would never be topped but would establish their reputation for all time.  The thick, immersive drones and corrosive tone speak an “October language,” matching the mulch and deterioration of fall.  The music is melancholy without being morose, a surrender to the autumnal transition.  The original cover was wooden brown, the reissue a fiery red.  (Richard Allen)

Natalia Beylis & Eimear Reidy ~ Whose Woods Are These (Nyahh, 2021)
A sparse work, with arrangements as bare as branches in November, this collaboration between cellist Eimear Reidy and Natalia Beylis (playing everything else) is a gorgeous suite of compositions inspired by and dedicated to trees. The pieces are all named after plants that flower in the autumn and winter and are set against the sounds of nature, so we can feel as if we, too, are deep within the woods. A beautiful, contemplative album. (Jeremy Bye)

Bibio ~ Phantom Brickworks (Warp, 2017)
We featured Bibio on our Spring list because, usually, his work is full of joyous, bucolic – and increasingly song-based – diversions. But there’s a flipside to Stephen Wilkinson’s work, which first appeared on 2017’s Phantom Brickworks LP. Rather than the deep shades of blue and green we would normally find from the cover onward, this is dull red and granite grey as morning; even the artwork is minimal and monochrome. This music sweeps you to a place where the wind blows across the moor, and the only signs that people once lived here are the abandoned lime kilns. It’s post-industrial ambient, perfect for those autumn strolls out among the heather. (Jeremy Bye)

Lawrence English ~ A Colour for Autumn (Room40; originally released on 12k, 2009)
The initial concept: “to take Vivaldi head-on.”  Originally a sequel to Varying Degrees of Winter, A Colour for Autumn honors the incremental changes above and below the surface of the earth with corresponding shifts in timbre.  On-site field recordings add a feeling of authenticity.  Recently remastered and reissued in an anniversary edition, the album offers a textured experience: perhaps more than one colour for autumn, but a reflection of them all.  (Richard Allen)

Enofa ~ Arboretum (SMD; originally released by Time Released Sound, 2018)
This single-track, album-length release was lucky to receive the Time Released Sound treatment, with hand-cut artwork exclusive to each individual customer.  The music sounds personal as well, decorated with guitars and bells, incorporating the sound of British birds tweeting in the trees and leaves crunching underfoot.  Just as an arboretum is designed to display a variety of trees, flowers and shrubs, Ross Baker’s album is a display case for different types of sounds.  (Richard Allen)

Fursaxa ~ Lepidoptera (ATP Recordings, 2005)
Tara Burke released music throughout the 2000s in numerous collaborations and guest appearances, alongside her solo albums as Fursaxa. Aligned closest to freak folk, her work often feels timeless – tapping back as far as medieval plainsong and digging deep into ritual chants. Often layering her voice over little more than a drone and a guitar, it feels like music for a witches’ ceremony more than the daylight fluttering of butterflies and moths that the title might suggest. (Jeremy Bye)

Gas ~ Königsforst (Mille Plateaux, 1998)
Wolfgang Voigt’s third album as Gas evokes many of the feelings we associate with Autumn – it’s crisp, crackly and a little chilly. More specifically, it reminds us of times when we’ve gone for a hike, but the shorter days have caught us off guard. Königsforst allows us to imagine a forest shrouded in mist, night closing in, and twigs snapping beneath our feet. We’d recommend the CD or digital version of the album to retain the heightened feeling rather than changing the vinyl multiple times across an hour; Voigt’s helpfully provided plenty of static and crackle as surface noise to fill in. (Jeremy Bye)

Ross Gentry ~ September (Ceremony of Seasons, 2022)
The inaugural entry in the Ceremony of Seasons series pairs an aged Sauvignon Blanc wine with a gorgeous ambient meditation on the changing seasons.  Every equinox another pairing is released, which means there are three fall albums to date; we recommend them all.  Asheville recently took a huge hit from Hurricane Helene and is in the midst of recovery; the metaphorical aspect of these albums recalls the words of Ecclesiastes: “to everything there is a season.”  (Richard Allen)

Gidge ~ Autumn Bells (Atomization, 2014)
This Swedish duo’s danceable debut was reissued on its fifth anniversary and is now celebrating its tenth.  “Norrland” is the highlight, Gidge’s signature track, marked by a memorable brass sample that announces the new season like approaching royalty.  The two-part “Fauna” is a unifying force.  As the album fades into the sound of the forest, one is not only ready to walk on the paths, but to dance, the bells ringing in the distance, keeping time with metronome clarity.  (Richard Allen)

Grouper ~ Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill (Type Records, 2008)
The musical equivalent of John Keats’ poem To Autumn (“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”), there are parts of Grouper’s album that sound cloaked in a foggy haze. Occasionally snapping into focus on songs like “A Cover Over”, more often Dragging A Dead Deer (now apparently no longer Up A Hill) keeps its secrets close, layering on the ambience and allowing Liz Harris’ observations to remain enigmatic. (Jeremy Bye)

Matthew Halsall ~ Fletcher Moss Park (Gondwana, 2012)
We’ve picked Matthew Halsall’s fourth album as an autumnal favourite because Fletcher Moss Park captures two contrasting seasonal moods equally well. As a native Mancunian, Halsall will be familiar with his city’s weather patterns at this time of year – it’ll probably be dull and grey overheard, and there will almost certainly be rain, but when you least expect it, the sun will shine through. The sunshine portion is expertly covered by the album’s first side, which is almost giddy with excitement. The latter half – particularly “The Sun In September” – is more introspective and downbeat. Pick a side that suits the mood of the hour and luxuriate. (Jeremy Bye)

Hekla ~ Xiuxiuejar (Phantom Limb, 2022)
Autumn arrives early in Iceland, and winter lasts long.  The season is the dividing line between warmth and cold, light and darkness, and in this land the fall is filament-thin.  In Xiuxiuejar (To Whisper), theremin and cello lament the loss of light as a siren voice delivers a solemn lullaby. Hekla’s cautionary drones sound the alarm:  there is not much time to gather supplies, for the eternal night is about to fall.  (Richard Allen)

Hood ~ Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys (Domino, 1998)
Is there another album’s artwork that captures the English Autumn so well? With the pink sky at dusk, the houses in shadow, the trees across an empty field; if there is a better cover, we haven’t found it. Fortunately, Hood are equal to creating the soundtrack for these images. One of the key bands in the UK post-rock scene, picking up the torch from Talk Talk and providing a focus for many other Leeds groups, Hood perfectly capture the season. This album, their debut for Domino shows the band at their most expansive, shot through with slate grey mornings, fallen leaves and the dull orange glow of street lights. (Jeremy Bye)

Leafcutter John ~ The Forest and the Sea (Staubgold, 2006)
A gentle fairy tale with a phantasmagorical ending, The Forest and the Sea is packed with sonic wonders, including field recordings caught in London, Sweden and Greece.  A sense of wonder is evoked as the listener forays into the forest, viewing the change of seasons while experiencing a slow internal transformation.  Multiple guest stars enhance John Burton’s vision, the end result supernatural yet altogether soothing.  (Richard Allen)

Lullatone ~ Falling for Autumn (Self-Released, 2013)
Those who follow our season-based lists will not be surprised to see Lullatone here again.  The duo specializes in tiny treasures and simple pleasures, evidenced by the titles “here comes the sweater weather,” “new stationery for a new semester” and “the biggest pile of leaves you have even seen.”  Pure joy from beginning to end, Falling for Autumn is only part of the picture; the autumn-based quarter of Thinking About Thursdays continues the journey.  (Richard Allen)

Lubomyr Melnyk ~ Fallen Trees (Erased Tapes, 2018)
After reaching retirement age, Lubomyr Melnyk suddenly found an audience.  The widespread critical acclaim caught the Ukrainian pianist by surprise, as he’d been practicing his “continuous music” style for years.  The artist’s affinity for fallen trees, felled yet still alive, is mirrored in his own life story, and now in the life of his nation.  Hatis Noit, Anne Müller and David Allred contribute to an album whose theme is “down, but not forgotten.”  (Richard Allen)

Memum ~ Became a Leaf (Unperceived, 2014)
Originally arriving in a wooden box with a wooden medallion, Becoming a Leaf feels like a gift to offset the melancholy of fall.  Gentle piano notes glisten over a cold yet flowing stream.  Birds sing sweetly before their next migration.  A glockenspiel reverberates through the crisp fall air.  Vinyl crackle evokes an evening campfire.  In the remixes, the songs pick up additional steam, like the engine of an encroaching calendar.  (Richard Allen)

Murcof ~ Remembranza (Leaf, 2005)
Remembranza (Remembrance) is lonely and forlorn, a chasm of music created by the spaces between the beats.  The piano, harp and cello tremble like the last leaves, tenaciously clinging to barren branches, blowing in a harsh and sullen wind.  Murcof creates a feeling of newly empty rooms, waiting to be filled; instead, one might learn to appreciate the minimal landscape, which offers a stark beauty of its own.  A remastered edition was released in 2022.  (Richard Allen)

Dustin O’Halloran ~ Lumiere (130701, 2011)
Lumiere appears right at the cusp of O’Halloran’s career, following many years with Dévics but just months before the debut release of A Winged Victory For The Sullen (his duo with Adam Bryanbaum Wiltzie). The credits on Lumiere read like a Who’s Who of Modern Classical, but it’s the music we’re interested in. The combination of piano and a string quartet feels just right for the season. There’s more than a hint of mournfulness throughout the album; even the lighter moments feel anchored by despondency – in other words, it’s a very autumnal record. (Jeremy Bye)

Max Richter ~ Songs From Before (Deutsche Grammafon; originally released by 130701, 2006)
Maybe it is the thunderstorm and rain effects on the opening piece that set us in mind of Autumn. It’s possible that having Robert Wyatt read extracts of Haruki Murakami reminds that it’s time to dust down that pile of books and make the most of the long evenings with a novel. Perhaps it’s two pieces called “Autumn Music” – that and the quote ‘A fine, almost invisible Autumn rain unlike the previous night’s downpour’ from Norwegian Wood. It’s impossible to tell. But until Richter tackled Vivaldi, the airy, reflective Songs From Before was his finest seasonal-themed work. (Jeremy Bye)

Erik K Skodvin ~ Flare (Sonic Pieces, 2010)
Flare is gloriously dark, yet glows with an internal fire.  The music is coiled, like a dying ember left untended, waiting to reignite.  Every sparse piano note is a footstep in the woods, a shadowy figure just beyond the light.  Cello and violin communicate a sense of foreboding.  The music sounds like the darkness descending too soon, the autumn approaching before one is ready.  A sequel, Flame, was published in 2014.  (Richard Allen)

Southpacific ~ Constance (Turnbuckle, 2000)
The first and, to date, only album from the spacey shoe-gazing Canadian trio – they released an EP in 2023, so there might be a follow-up at some point – always makes me think of Autumn, but I’m not sure why. Is it the gauzy haze of the guitar and the languid underpinning of the rhythm section? Could it be as simple as the trees stripped of leaves on the cover? Or, most probably, is it because I picked the album up in the September shortly after it came out and hammered it on my Discman for the next three months? This overlooked gem still gets dug out when the leaves turn brown, and I suggest you try Constance yourself. (Jeremy Bye)

George Winston ~ Autumn (Windham Hill, 1980)
The change of the season from Summer to Autumn doesn’t necessarily mean grey mornings and cold days. There are also blue skies, fields of wheat and harvest time. It’s the latter spirit that George Winston captures on his album of solo piano pieces. These compositions contain hints of many other genres, from minimalism and the blues to the jazz style found in Vince Guaraldi’s music for the Charlie Brown cartoons. There’s a touch of melancholia here and there, but an undeniable sense of joy pervades the album. This may be a more Californian take on the season than we’re used to, but it’s a welcome alternate viewpoint. (Jeremy Bye)

woodworkings ~ day breaks the morning shapes we speak (Own, 2013)
The earliest references on our list are to September, the start of school and the autumnal equinox, while the latest curve toward winter.  Kyle Woodworth’s LP bridges the divide between the russet and the white, beginning with “a candy coated October” and ending with softly falling snow.  The music is tender, exuding a sense of comfort and safety.  One need not fear the changing of the seasons; each delivers its own distinct gifts, waiting to be unwrapped.  (Richard Allen)

Richard Youngs ~ Autumn Response (Jagjaguwar, 2007)
It may seem a little perverse to put one of Youngs’ more accessible and vocal albums on a list compiled by a website focused on instrumental and experimental music, but hear us out. ‘Accessible’ is a relative term; although, on the surface, Autumn Response sits within the ‘singer with an acoustic guitar’ genre, this is not a straightforward record to unpack. Youngs doubletracks but delays his vocals so there’s a sense of the singer haunting himself over the delicate guitar patterns. It’s best listened to with headphones on chilly mornings. (Jeremy Bye)