When it comes right down to it, the heart of americana music has always been about connecting listeners to real experiences and emotions, and Natalie Del Carmen is currently one of the best examples of what that looks like. On Pastures (Torrez Music Group 2026), her second full-length album, she scratches an itch that many among us have been trying to reach. It’s new music that sounds like it came out 30 years ago, yet it is very modern, not something you would dig up in a time capsule. Her music is refreshing and simplifies everything, showcasing her ability to harness raw emotion and infuse it into a nuanced lyricism well beyond her years.
Country/folk music has seen an impressive influx of young stars gaining popularity, and with the Internet, it’s never been easier for an artist to gain popularity and a following quickly. Her ceiling looks as high as a towering silo in a pasture. At age 24, there is plenty of runway for a long career. “I wrote this record while I was 23,” Del Carmen stated. “It was made between friends and during the winter about a year ago now. It’s for all folks who feel, or felt, like their twenties are just a waiting room. All of the tunes on this record have something to do with what I was going through or thinking about at that time.”
Much like Mary Chapin Carpenter, Del Carmen could sing just about anything, and you’re going to feel lots of emotion. It’s exciting to see an artist with a big vision this young, looking to craft scenes through a song and make sure every detail adds to that. On Plans Upon Plans, she reveals: “And the howl of tomorrow / hanging out my breath / I laid on my bedside / clutching your dreams / they ain’t mine by a mile”. She sings it even-keeled and achingly sweet with words that could resonate with anyone.
Her record ultimately reflects a belief system’s foundation cracking, giving way to change. Rather than holding onto that familiar, youthful anxiety, Del Carmen learned how to let go of some weighty expectations she placed upon herself. “Pastures is about the strange, quiet in-between that defined my early twenties,” she said, “where I constantly felt on the verge of something, but never quite anywhere. I’ve always felt a kind of urgency, like whatever I’m after is still way ahead of me. I wanted to write about what it feels like to be drifting between who you are and who you’re becoming.”
If 2026 has saturated you with immense dread and expectations for shoes you have worried you’ll never fill, then this album is for you. It serves as a comforting it’ll all be okay. Previously, she released a full-length debut, Bloodlines, in 2023 and an EP, Tandem Songs, in 2024. Each is notable for the smooth lyricism of a singer-songwriter who has something to say, supported by classic folk instrumentation such as organ, fiddle, and the subtle strum of an acoustic guitar. Del Carmen likes to work with her hands and “taught myself guitar, cross-stitch, knitting, paint by numbers… My creative hobbies give me something to do mentally when the world gets kinda loud.”
Pastures was recorded with Brunjo, the Tennessee-based musical collective whose members first crossed paths with Del Carmen while attending Berklee College of Music. “I took eight days to make this record together in Nashville back in February,” she enthused. “It’s americana, it’s country! It’s the most me I’ve ever sounded.” On Los Angeles, she sings of her home city, not so much with nostalgia; instead, “I always chose freedom / I never chose you.” Good Morning from Magnolia is a standout track, producing images and sounds of landscapes and cicadas, summers gazing at “hillsides like a postcard”.
She is a fan of Brandi Carlile, who “has been such a North Star for me. There aren’t enough big kid words to describe how much she has influenced me.” And you should also know Anywhere but Here by Hilary Duff is her go-to karaoke record. But what follows is about the nine tracks on Pastures, filled with dreams, plans and longing for what the future may bring. Natalie Del Carmen expands upon those emotions and thoughts as she takes us behind the songs on this album.
June, You’re On My Mind: There’s always an undertone that’s sold to us in life that we must forget the people who have loved and then wronged us. Like it makes us tougher to turn an eye. But we think of people who’ve wronged us all the time. We lose a little bit of ego in ever admitting that out loud, so we never do, but I think there’s good humility in saying you still miss someone you probably shouldn’t. I wrote it about finding the presence of a significant part of my life in my own emotional upstairs. Even when I think I’ve laid them down, I learn, over and over, that I never really do. I chose this as the opener because it honestly came together in an odd way of sorts. We ended up with this party-like, everyone-on-their-feet, ragtime “everyone skate” piano moment on the bridge that completely sold it for me. The original demo sounded like a huge downer, so it was nice to pick it up while recording it.
Leanne: I wanted to write more this past year about things in my life that ground me. Leanne was my best friend growing up, and she’s still my best friend. She’s the kind of person you’d think was made up out of a How To Be a Good Friend self-help book. I can’t even talk about her without getting all weird and sentimental. I wrote this song for her, and for me, but mainly for folks to be reminded of who they can’t imagine their lives without. I hope that people feel that when they listen. Leanne and I are both pursuing music and artistic careers. She’s very talented. We lean on each other when it all feels sort of impossible. We live in fantasyland together, and we don’t convince each other to come down. There’s already too much of that in the world.
Plans Upon Plans: If there’s one thing that’s sure and guaranteed for everyone in this life, it’s uncertainty. You can be uncertain with just about anything in your world, and hopefully find something to shake hands with in this song. I was heavily post-grad at one point. I felt there were caveats to pursuing music against what I thought society expected of me. I crave stability and order in every pillar of my life as much as I need autonomy and change. I’m sure I’m a control freak. I love to-do lists, productivity and plans. I used to trust that if I kept my life on a tight leash, it would all roll along quite nicely (it doesn’t, it just makes you harder on yourself). We feel pressure constantly to pick one path without ever questioning the position you’re in. I think that’s a crazy expectation. I think it’s also about realizing uncertainty never really leaves us. That’s the purpose of the rain at the end of the song, I suppose.
El Cortez: El Cortez is for my dad. I’ve carried this feeling of indebtedness to my parents, like I owe them for everything, and the only way I know how to repay their admiration and belief in me is through gratitude. Our family traveled to Las Vegas for Christmas, and I gambled with my dad at the El Cortez casino for the first time. That trip was full of firsts, the kind that definitely gets rarer the older you get. Moments that remind you that your parents are still there, still alive, still capable of creating memories that feel brand new, past childhood. If you knew me as a kid, you’d know I had plenty of attitude, a quick temper, and a sharp tongue. I talked back more times than I care to admit. Writing El Cortez made me feel like I was finally growing up and relating to my parents in a different way. I want people to get familiar with all the ways they feel rich in life that don’t involve money, or your job, or what people need of you. I realized how much I’d already won in life.
Good Morning from Magnolia: I moved back home to Los Angeles after spending four years on the East Coast for school. It’s a song about homecoming, yes, but also about returning to a place that seems to wait for you. I grew up in the valley. Moving back here felt like saying hello to a part of myself I didn’t quite realize I was missing that much for those years. I often felt like I was trying on someone else’s version of acceptance and someone else’s cool, to feel like I was doing college right. I was driving down Magnolia in Burbank one morning and just felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. I like Burbank a whole lot. I was finally starting to grow into myself and felt homebound in the best way possible. We worked hard to make the production feel like a sunrise of sorts.
Los Angeles: I used to write a lot of storytelling pieces. I wandered very far from that style and slowly walked back in here. There’s a bittersweet and pivotal point in relationships, sometimes when two people decide they want different things out of life and have to part ways. Maybe one person dreams of traditions and stability, while the other is needing something a little louder, or riskier. I realized one day that both of those people are me, and that likely makes me a hard person to date. Writing about love is one of the easiest ways to get your point across, so I hope people love this song for that lens. But I really wrote it about how I see myself. There’s classic ways relationships end, or why we struggle to understand ourselves: love vs ambition, comfort vs uncertainty. It’s for anyone who has ever wanted or needed both.
What Should’ve Been (By Now): I spend a lot of time with a habit of imagining paths I didn’t take in life. The choices I made, the ones I didn’t, the job I turned down and the place I didn’t move to. The endless wondering about how different things might have looked if I’d chosen otherwise. It’s an easy activity. Eventually, I believe we come to terms with where we’ve ended up, hopefully for the best, and we can all save our imagined sub paths for another life. What should’ve been doesn’t ever change what is, and the grass will always look greener everywhere I’m not.
Heyday: There was a social event I attended a few months before writing this song, where I felt like I was bringing a highlight reel to the table because nothing in my current life felt exciting enough to put on display. It came from a fear that the best days of my life were already behind me, which sounds a bit silly now. I wrote it when I turned 23 and couldn’t help but wonder if I’d already missed out on the part of life where everything feels exciting, full of possibility, and new. I started thinking about how I keep memories and wild stories in my back pocket like spare change. Stuff to pull out when I need to feel interesting, or remind myself that I’ve lived something good. That’s the line that came to me first, I keep my heyday held high/On standby, on my sideline/In my pocket with my change. I built the song around it. It’s about trying to find your way back to yourself when you feel a little faded around the edges.
Pressure in the Pastures: Besides the coming-of-age topics that a lot of Pastures focuses on, I look a bit into generational lines that we can’t outrun, too. I think I put a lot of pressure on myself to perform in life. A lot of my life has felt like a heavy pressure of needing to get my life right, to arrive somewhere fast, to have something to show for myself super young. It probably has a lot to do with how much our lives are on display online, ready and willing to be sized up. There’s a weight in trying to carve your own path, especially when that path doesn’t always make sense to everyone around you. It’s the kind of pressure that’s passed down, the kind you put on yourself, and the kind that makes you want to prove everyone wrong. In all of that, though, it’s also about thanking anyone who’s ever bet on me.
