Clove

This one’s going far under the radar stateside, but in the runup of singles and into its first week in the world, this quiet album out of Australia has been climbing my list of 2025 essentials. Clove have been weaving folk, country, and a tender strain of indie together since the middle of last year. I first caught them orbiting RSTB faves The Bures Band, who have some crossover members, but the band bends a bit different than their Cosmic American counterparts. Clove catches a sweet spring wind with their sound, full of hazily strummed guitars and twisting flute trills. The band can easily find their footing with the Canyon Country aficionados, picking at a bit of Rondstadt earnestness while also giving a light touch to some Dusty in Memphis grooves. Yet, those are all subliminal feelings, since at its core the album is much lighter and breezing. It’s more like Perhacs in Memphis, taking a slightly curled folk and giving it a rhythmic shake.

Further in the band goes bilingual, lacing the second half of the album with French vocals on three tracks and bringing in more of their indie impulses. At times, like on the standout “L’amour entre tes mains,” the band hot glues Ye-Ye to some ‘90s propulsive pop, feeling like the French answer to Cibo Matto. They continue to eschew English on “Tape Song,” but give it more of a layered folk approach, feeling very much like kindred spirits to Maybel, whose albums of Canadian folk have been a favorite here in the last few years. The early singles hinted at the band’s prowess, but as the band’s eponymous album unfolds, its clear that they’re working towards a beautiful amalgam of pop, country, and folk that feels like soaking away the social ache each time its on the speakers.