In my daily musical listening activities I do come across a lot of new singer-songwriters of an acoustic, introspective flavour. So much so that you could make an argument for this coffee store style of quiet balladry enjoying as much of a trend setting age now as in the early seventies when Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Paul Simon and Cat Stevens coloured the airwaves. But it is not quite the same today, primarily because a circumstantial cause of this movement is the comparative ease of recording music from the bedroom, where a quiet acoustic intimacy is far more attainable than the space required to record a band. And the direct route to online distribution means the old barriers to exposure no longer apply, so we feel an avalanche of guitar and voice melancholia raining down on us every day. Furthermore, when touting their wears these acts know the value of a vintage sound, the emphasis is always on a natural organic creativity, cosy situations more homely than a studio environment and the value of real instruments over electronics. On the downside however, we listeners can feel they would sometimes benefit from a stricter critical ear; three guitar chords strummed slowly and emoted over might feel very sincere when sat on a bed pouring your heart out, but that alone does not guarantee a riveting listening experience. Unless that is, you are playing one of the major natural talents in this field for well over a decade, an artist like Alela Diane for example.  

Even though the aforementioned regulation boxes of a 2026 retro-leaning songwriter album were ticked for this album, the musical quality lifts it high above the pack. Alela had built a daily routine of working up the material in the attic of her 1892 Victorian home, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon, and when the time came to record, she wanted to use the same location. This was partially born from a desire to connect with other local musicians and feel the spark of collaboration in the album’s grooves. She enlisted her pal Peter Lalish, of the band Lucius, to give her guitar lessons and invited Anna Tivel for tea. “It felt imperative to connect with artists I respected and get reacquainted with my own town” she recalled. And so, Alela Diane’s seventh album, ‘Who’s Keeping Time?’ has the feel of a creative project that rose up naturally once life finally quieted around her. You can hear that shift in perspective in the way these songs move; unhurried, attentive, tuned to the small revelations that surface when the noise drops away. She talks about “coming to the end of a season,” a moment when her daughters were older, the sleepless nights had eased, and a rare stillness settled over the house. In that space, she found her thoughts drifting back toward music, circling melodies and half‑formed ideas until they began to gather shape. The record carries that sense of intuition and community, the feeling of someone rediscovering their own internal rhythm and following it wherever it leads.

This is an album that has a sombre awareness of the passage of time, it is rarely low in mood though, more determined to be exhilarated by the wonders of existence and celebrate them. That is an element to Alela’s sound that has hooked me right from the start, how even when pensive and reflective, the overriding characteristics of her voice are magnificently soothing and uplifting. It is an element that remains undimmed by the passage of time and tragedy, a quality we hear on one of the records most poignant of songs. ‘Spring Is A Fine Time’ was written in reaction to the passing, at the age of 83, of fellow Portland outsider musical heavyweight, Michael Hurley. It postulates that spring is the best time to die, with all the natural world around bursting into new life. The track becomes a bright little tribute to her friend, all playful whistles and sly wit, the sort of thing he himself might have delighted in. That same magical blend of mournful grace and mystical awe burns in ‘Endless Waltz,’ a love letter to Alela’s grandparents as they waltz into the unknown, the perpetual motion of time felt in every note.

Across these eleven tracks we journey from the feverish, popping thought bubbles of Alela’s mind on the swirling ‘Galloping’ (written whilst in bed with a fever and you can hear that) to the more pointed political edge of ‘Piss, Coffee, Blood Or Wine,’ a song that builds in momentum the more Diane sinks her teeth into the lyrics. It is a title offered as a visual for the social state of affairs in her homeland today, depicting a slumped figure on the sidewalk with a puddle of uncertain origin forming around its beaten frame. ‘In My Own Time’ holds aloft the albums central theme, it is an ode to pausing and resisting the pull of life’s relentlessly ticking clock. It harks back to the laid-back classicism inherent in this artists work right from the start, the kind of song that feels as natural as water and belonging as if it has been in the world for decades. Which brings me back to why Alela Diane stands tall in such an overpopulated musical field; it is because there is something so pure in her work that just feels right, it always seems like it had a place reserved in the musical architecture that was merely waiting to be occupied. It heralds a new phase in her journey, shaped by the natural shifts in home life and answered with a deeper, ever‑attentive musical maturity.

Danny Neill

You can buy the new Alela Diane ‘Who’s Keeping Time?’ via this link: https://amzn.to/4v79ZWl