Indie folk music has long been the soundtrack for those seeking solace, inspiration, and connection with the world around them. On October 27, 2025, two notable pieces—one a heartfelt mixtape curated by singer-songwriter Lydia Luce and the other a sweeping list of essential indie folk albums by music journalist Eric Alper—offered a window into how this genre continues to shape and reflect personal journeys, especially those rooted in nature and introspection.
Lydia Luce, whose own music is steeped in the beauty of the outdoors, shared a mixtape playlist with listeners, inviting them to experience her favorite songs while hiking, camping, or simply lying in the grass. "Hiking and walking are my ways of meditating and connecting with myself," Luce wrote, as reported by Justin Hiltner. With her baby due in November 2025, Luce explained she was especially focused on centering herself in anticipation of this life-changing event. "Really trying to center myself in preparation for this beautiful life change," she said, underscoring the role that time in nature plays in her emotional wellbeing.
Her new album, Mammoth, is a testament to this connection. According to Luce, all of the album's artwork and music videos were filmed while hiking in the Swiss Alps and the Colorado Rockies. "My love for nature seeps out of this new project. I hope it finds its listeners craving the outdoors," she shared. The title track, in particular, is about hiking—a theme that runs through both her music and her life. She described never regretting a hiking or camping trip, saying, "It always helps to put things into perspective for me. My worries and stresses feel insignificant when I’m staring out at a mountain range after climbing to a peak."
Luce's playlist is a mosaic of songs that evoke the tranquility and wonder of the natural world. Among the selections are "Head in the Clouds" by Mocky—a favorite she often listens to with her husband while camping or traveling in their Skoolie—and "Free Treasure" by Adrianne Lenker, a song that, as Luce describes, "reminds us there is treasure all around us in nature and with loved ones – and we don’t have to pay for it." These tracks, along with others like Feist’s "The Wind" and Jon Middleton’s "Quiet as a Star," are more than just background music; they're companions for moments of reflection under the open sky.
Each song in the playlist is tied to a vivid personal memory. For instance, "Hello Sunshine" by Damien Jurado and Richard Swift brings Luce back to solo camping trips on the islands of Percy Priest Lake in Nashville, paddling out to watch the sunset. Bill Frisell’s "Pretty Stars" conjures up memories of night swimming and snorkeling with her brother in south Florida, surrounded by the glow of bioluminescence. And Blaze Foley’s "The Moonlight Song" transports her to autumn camping trips, where friends gather around a fire as the seasons change. "It sounds like he’s singing to us around the fire, pulling us into the moment," she reflected.
Other tracks, such as Richard Hawley’s "The Ocean" and Nick Drake’s "Pink Moon," highlight the deep nostalgia that music can evoke. Luce recalls driving out of the tunnel in Santa Monica, the Pacific Ocean suddenly stretching before her, with Hawley’s song playing in the background. Though she’s now settled in Nashville, she admits to missing the ocean dearly. "This song brings me right back to staring out at the Pacific Ocean," she said. As for "Pink Moon," Luce calls it "just a perfect song," one that never loses its magic no matter how many times she hears it.
While Luce’s playlist offers a personal, intimate entry point into the world of indie folk, Eric Alper’s article, published the same day, takes a broader view, celebrating thirty albums that have defined and expanded the genre across decades and continents. Alper describes indie folk as "the sound of heartbeats, travel, and truth," and his selections reflect the genre’s enduring power to move listeners and inspire wanderlust.
Among the albums highlighted by Alper are works by artists who also appear in Luce’s playlist, such as Adrianne Lenker’s Songs (2020), Feist’s The Reminder (2007), and Nick Drake’s Pink Moon (1972). Alper calls Lenker’s record "a soft storm of guitar and awe," praising its ability to capture the stillness between heartbreak and healing. Feist’s album, meanwhile, is lauded as "a masterclass in understated beauty," with every track glowing with warmth. Drake’s Pink Moon is described as "the album that defines quiet brilliance. A voice and a guitar, and the universe between them."
Alper’s list is a veritable roadmap for anyone seeking to explore the emotional and geographic landscapes of indie folk. From the harmonious hymns of Fleet Foxes’ self-titled debut—"as golden and eternal as the mountains it seems to sing from"—to the windswept melancholy of Ben Howard’s Every Kingdom, the albums chosen are united by their storytelling, melodic richness, and, often, their reverence for the natural world. "These albums, spanning decades and continents, glow with melody, storytelling, and the quiet courage to feel deeply," Alper writes, capturing the essence that makes the genre so enduring.
What’s striking is how both Luce’s and Alper’s approaches to indie folk music underscore the genre’s unique ability to bridge the personal and the universal. Whether it’s Luce recalling the feeling of swimming in the stars or Alper highlighting the "whispered poetry and soft guitar" of Iron & Wine’s Our Endless Numbered Days, there’s a shared understanding that folk music is at its best when it channels the rhythms of life, nature, and memory.
For Luce, preparing for motherhood and reflecting on her place in the world, these songs and experiences are more than just entertainment—they’re a lifeline, a means of grounding herself amid change. For fans and newcomers alike, the playlists and albums curated by Luce and Alper offer inspiration to step outside, breathe deeply, and perhaps, as Luce hopes, crave the outdoors just a little bit more.
In a world that often feels overwhelming, indie folk remains a gentle reminder to slow down, listen, and reconnect—with ourselves, with others, and with the earth beneath our feet.
