But while taking a clean break from the noise of social media, Margaret Glaspy started thinking critically about the complicity and complacency implicit in holding your tongue. On the self-indemnifying “Reminder,” Glaspy sketches her restlessness and introspection clearly: “Doing nothing is something I do too well,” she sings in an uncomfortable monotone, dripping syllables like drops of water. Drinking in a girl’s confidence, Glaspy adoringly talk-narrates the theatrical “I Thought She Was a Song” (which could’ve been pulled straight from Hermes in Anaïs Mitchell’s Hadestown). When Glaspy softly sings the titular line, grit stripped from her voice, it’s a heavenly interlude: Every instrument but the fingerpicked guitar—now higher and gentler—drops out. Though the threat of silence haunts the album’s conflicted characters, and her bittersweet acoustic guitar and skeletal arrangements might suggest more sedate strains of folk music, Glaspy shows no fear of speaking up.