Lawn - God Made The Highway (2025) Hi-Res

The descriptor "post-punk" is enough to send shivers of fear through music lovers' spines. Not because the genre is bad or unwelcome, but because the swell of artists copy-pasting the formula and adding a touch of their own flair is endless. But it's immediately clear from "Water," the opening cut of God Made the Highway, that New Orleans' Lawn have found more musical depth and are ready to move on from the style marker of their earlier releases.

In fact, "Water" fully imbues the vibe with Americana-leaning vocal harmony before the album blossoms. "Lonely River Blues," an example of Lawn's dual-vocal talent, moves the record toward their former sound, but God Made the Highway consists almost entirely of poppy head-nodders. The band essentially operate as a songwriting duo—Mac Folger delivers the indie-leaning jams and Rui De Magalhães leads the way on the harder rippers.

"Davie" provides some punch early and power pop lurks throughout the record with "Barroom Wonder," "History Lesson," and "Nowhere Walking." This benefits Folger's rambling vocal style, allowing him to open up about a wealth of topics with less punch and more harmonies. Rui De Magalhães' talk-singing provides ample spark to keep the record sharp. Lawn's greatest strength lies in their ability to switch gears between rock genres without abandoning the album's intelligent, lyric-driven songcraft.

The cover art reflects their love of ineffectual ennui with a scene of off-interstate corporate suburbia (a.k.a. the actual "city on the hill" Americans were given in eras of promise) that perfectly summarizes the album. Highway highlights the mundane and the misanthropic from shady landlords ("Davie") to growing older ("Pressure," with matter-of-fact vocals recalling early Parquet Courts). It's a delicately-balanced record with intangible qualities—ones uncovered with repeat listens and ears keen for an off-kilter presentation of well-worn territory.