A Mile South of Heaven is the album Jess Williamson was destined to make.

The Texas native, who grew up in Dallas and now splits her time between Los Angeles and Marfa, has long experimented with country and western sounds. Historically, Williamson has refracted the genre’s alluring melodies, sonic rusticity and plainspoken poetry through mystical and alt-pop prisms, as heard on her critically-acclaimed solo albums Time Ain’t Accidental (2023) and Sorceress(2020). She further expanded that creative vision with Plains’ I Walked With You a Ways (2022). It was the stark, understated beauty of her previous album that led NPR to wonder “is there anything more tender and mournful than the way Williamson sings?” Pitchfork praised her “teardrop voice and audacious candor,” noting that she imagines “Lana by way of Lucinda while sounding Texas to the bone.” Now, A Mile South of Heaven is her most twang-forward solo album to date, bringing largely traditional music to the center of the frame without sacrificing the mysticism, emotional depth and indie sensibility that have long defined her work.

Her sixth solo record and her debut for Nashville-based label New West, the album reaches a new artistic peak for Williamson as both a songwriter and singer. The songs draw from the emotional directness of Lucinda Williams, the character-driven storytelling of Guy Clark and the deep introspection of Leonard Cohen, while her voice recalls the earthen timbre of Emmylou Harris. Produced by Shooter Jennings at the famed Studio 3 at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles, it chronicles the journey of a woman as she excavates and arranges her most recent tender moments. When paired with Jennings’ organic approach to recording, a crack studio band, and accents of steel guitar, fiddle and banjo, the bold colors, sparkly accents and jagged edges of Williamson’s story songs form a striking and potent display.

“Depending on your outlook, a mile south of heaven may sound sad or it may sound hopeful,” Williamson explains. “We’re always a mile south of the impossible goals we set for ourselves, and my point is, maybe that’s ok, because a mile is pretty close. It’s about appreciating where we are now, because there is no finish line. There is always more work to be done.”

A Mile South of Heaven is the sound of someone who left home for the land of seekers, strove for an ever-elusive goal, and ultimately chased the horizon long enough to realize it can never be reached. These songs reject the myth of arrival in favor of something richer: a life lived in motion, where fulfillment is found not at the end of the road but somewhere along it.