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Track List
01) star‐crossed
02) good wife
03) cherry blossom
04) simple times
05) if this was a movie..
06) justified
07) angel
08) breadwinner
09) camera roll
10) easier said
11) hookup scene
12) keep lookin' up
13) what doesn't kill me
14) there is a light
15) gracias a la vida
01) star‐crossed
02) good wife
03) cherry blossom
04) simple times
05) if this was a movie..
06) justified
07) angel
08) breadwinner
09) camera roll
10) easier said
11) hookup scene
12) keep lookin' up
13) what doesn't kill me
14) there is a light
15) gracias a la vida
3:19
3:51
3:04
2:47
3:14
3:00
2:19
3:20
2:39
3:07
3:21
2:46
2:17
3:51
4:32
Data Complete
80%
Total Rating
80%Total Rating
(1 users)
Back Cover
CD Art
3D Case
3D Thumb
3D Flat
3D Face
3D Spine
First Released
2021
Country
Reflective
Country
Breakup
Medium
Album
0 copies
Album Description
Available in:
Star-Crossed (stylized in all lowercase) is the fifth studio album by American singer Kacey Musgraves. It was released on September 10, 2021, by MCA Nashville and Interscope Records. Musgraves co-wrote and co-produced the album with American musicians Ian Fitchuk and Daniel Tashian, with whom she collaborated with on her fourth studio album, Golden Hour (2018), as well.
The album's subject matter was inspired by Musgraves' personal journey of heartache and healing following her divorce from American singer-songwriter Ruston Kelly.
User Album Review
The singer and songwriter’s fourth studio album, “Star-Crossed,” is a chronicle of her marriage’s collapse, delivered with lightly adventurous production and lighter regret.
Kacey Musgraves’s fourth studio album, “Star-Crossed,” really picks up midway through, with “Breadwinner.” It’s a fun dismantling. Over pointedly plucky production, Musgraves tells a story about a male partner intimidated by a woman’s success, who latches on, vampire-like, nonetheless. “He wants your shimmer/to make him feel bigger,” Musgraves sings, “until he starts feeling insecure.”
The relationship is doomed, of course.
Musgraves pulls back later in the song to assess her own complicity, or lack thereof: “I can sleep at night knowing I really tried/I put in the time/But the fault isn’t mine.” She sings this with an unexpected sprinkle of coy, Janet Jackson-esque sweetness — a perfect smile covering up the rictus within.
“Star-Crossed” is Musgraves’s divorce album, a song cycle about how a relationship deteriorates: not all at once, or in huge shards, but decrementally. It’s full of small memories, good and bad, rendered largely without judgment. Though it shares some production flourishes, or anti-flourishes, with her last album, “Golden Hour,” it feels closer in spirit to her earliest work, particularly how on her debut album, “Same Trailer Different Park,” Musgraves achieved a tremendous amount of emotional power with simple, almost talked-through songs.
Sometimes in breakups, there’s no pure enemy — everyone bears some culpability. Throughout “Star-Crossed,” Musgraves entertains this notion, even if only to let it ebb away. It’s a balance she strikes most astutely on “Good Wife,” on which she’s torn between thinking that title role is a worthy goal and seeing it as a tragic stock character. “Listen to his problems/Tell him that I understand/Touch him so he knows in his heart he’s the only one,” she sings, flatly declaiming the role of an attentive partner without ever sounding overly committed to it.
Much has been made of Musgraves’s experimentation at the edges of country music. But praise for her omnivorousness has often read instead as exasperation with the assumed boundaries of the genre she’s perceived as distancing herself from. Sometimes those agitating for change from outside the genre are just as conservative as those agonizing about boundaries from within.
That was always a head fake. Musgraves came up as a traditionalist, and even when she’s poking at orthodoxy, she’s at least lightly invested in heritage: On this album, “Keep Lookin’ Up” is a lovely country song. That Musgraves arrived in Nashville during one of its most restrictive eras isn’t her fault; her closest analog is Sturgill Simpson, who also retreated into soft psychedelia as a reaction to what everyone within earshot was doing.
“Star-Crossed” isn’t as belabored, production-wise, as “Golden Hour,” which could feel overly woozy. (She worked with the same team here, the writers and producers Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk.) In places, it’s almost breezy, and has a few callbacks to the light schlock of the 1970s and 1980s — the John Hughes-film gloom of “Easier Said” nods to “Drive” by the Cars, and the melancholic “Angel,” with a literal rainstorm arriving midway through, feels casually indebted to Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle.”
These relatively minor production gestures speak loudly because Musgraves comes from a world in which they are perceived as more radical than they actually are. (That said, this album is indeed more at home alongside, say, Phoebe Bridgers or Japanese Breakfast.) But they also resonate so loudly because Musgraves lets them say things her voice does not.
She never appears to be singing to convince you — her voice, which is modest in scale but deadly precise, connotes the power of malaise and exhaustion. It is regret embodied.
Sometimes — and often on this album — Musgraves’s resignation appears to extend to the actual act of singing itself. When she’s seething, she’s calm. When she’s calm, she’s verging on bored. Sometimes, at the end of a relationship, you’ve simply said everything there is to say. To give more would be to give too much.
External Album Reviews
pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/kacey-musgraves-star-crossed/
User Comments
Available in:
Star-Crossed (stylized in all lowercase) is the fifth studio album by American singer Kacey Musgraves. It was released on September 10, 2021, by MCA Nashville and Interscope Records. Musgraves co-wrote and co-produced the album with American musicians Ian Fitchuk and Daniel Tashian, with whom she collaborated with on her fourth studio album, Golden Hour (2018), as well.
The album's subject matter was inspired by Musgraves' personal journey of heartache and healing following her divorce from American singer-songwriter Ruston Kelly.
User Album Review
The singer and songwriter’s fourth studio album, “Star-Crossed,” is a chronicle of her marriage’s collapse, delivered with lightly adventurous production and lighter regret.
Kacey Musgraves’s fourth studio album, “Star-Crossed,” really picks up midway through, with “Breadwinner.” It’s a fun dismantling. Over pointedly plucky production, Musgraves tells a story about a male partner intimidated by a woman’s success, who latches on, vampire-like, nonetheless. “He wants your shimmer/to make him feel bigger,” Musgraves sings, “until he starts feeling insecure.”
The relationship is doomed, of course.
Musgraves pulls back later in the song to assess her own complicity, or lack thereof: “I can sleep at night knowing I really tried/I put in the time/But the fault isn’t mine.” She sings this with an unexpected sprinkle of coy, Janet Jackson-esque sweetness — a perfect smile covering up the rictus within.
“Star-Crossed” is Musgraves’s divorce album, a song cycle about how a relationship deteriorates: not all at once, or in huge shards, but decrementally. It’s full of small memories, good and bad, rendered largely without judgment. Though it shares some production flourishes, or anti-flourishes, with her last album, “Golden Hour,” it feels closer in spirit to her earliest work, particularly how on her debut album, “Same Trailer Different Park,” Musgraves achieved a tremendous amount of emotional power with simple, almost talked-through songs.
Sometimes in breakups, there’s no pure enemy — everyone bears some culpability. Throughout “Star-Crossed,” Musgraves entertains this notion, even if only to let it ebb away. It’s a balance she strikes most astutely on “Good Wife,” on which she’s torn between thinking that title role is a worthy goal and seeing it as a tragic stock character. “Listen to his problems/Tell him that I understand/Touch him so he knows in his heart he’s the only one,” she sings, flatly declaiming the role of an attentive partner without ever sounding overly committed to it.
Much has been made of Musgraves’s experimentation at the edges of country music. But praise for her omnivorousness has often read instead as exasperation with the assumed boundaries of the genre she’s perceived as distancing herself from. Sometimes those agitating for change from outside the genre are just as conservative as those agonizing about boundaries from within.
That was always a head fake. Musgraves came up as a traditionalist, and even when she’s poking at orthodoxy, she’s at least lightly invested in heritage: On this album, “Keep Lookin’ Up” is a lovely country song. That Musgraves arrived in Nashville during one of its most restrictive eras isn’t her fault; her closest analog is Sturgill Simpson, who also retreated into soft psychedelia as a reaction to what everyone within earshot was doing.
“Star-Crossed” isn’t as belabored, production-wise, as “Golden Hour,” which could feel overly woozy. (She worked with the same team here, the writers and producers Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk.) In places, it’s almost breezy, and has a few callbacks to the light schlock of the 1970s and 1980s — the John Hughes-film gloom of “Easier Said” nods to “Drive” by the Cars, and the melancholic “Angel,” with a literal rainstorm arriving midway through, feels casually indebted to Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle.”
These relatively minor production gestures speak loudly because Musgraves comes from a world in which they are perceived as more radical than they actually are. (That said, this album is indeed more at home alongside, say, Phoebe Bridgers or Japanese Breakfast.) But they also resonate so loudly because Musgraves lets them say things her voice does not.
She never appears to be singing to convince you — her voice, which is modest in scale but deadly precise, connotes the power of malaise and exhaustion. It is regret embodied.
Sometimes — and often on this album — Musgraves’s resignation appears to extend to the actual act of singing itself. When she’s seething, she’s calm. When she’s calm, she’s verging on bored. Sometimes, at the end of a relationship, you’ve simply said everything there is to say. To give more would be to give too much.
External Album Reviews
pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/kacey-musgraves-star-crossed/
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