Caroline Herring - Golden Apples Of The Sun (2010)

Why Listen?

Golden Apples Of The Sun isn’t just an album—it’s a quiet revelation, the kind of record that feels like stumbling upon an ancient, weathered book of poetry in a forgotten attic. From the first note, it invites you to sit down, take a breath, and let the world fall away.

Herring’s voice—soft as a whisper yet brimming with emotional weight—floats over sparse, elegant arrangements that feel as though they were plucked from the air at dusk. This is not music that demands your attention; it earns it by gently wrapping itself around your soul.

The album’s title, borrowed from W.B. Yeats’ poem The Song of Wandering Aengus, is no coincidence. Like Yeats’ work, Herring’s songs are steeped in myth and longing, with a timeless quality that makes them feel both ancient and achingly present. Her rendition of Joni Mitchell’s “Cactus Tree” is a revelation in itself—a stripped-down, meditative take that transforms the song into something raw and deeply personal.

And then there’s her original material, like “A Little Bit of Mercy”, which feels like it could have been sung around campfires for centuries, even though it’s entirely her own.

What makes Golden Apples Of The Sun stand out is its restraint. Every note feels intentional, every silence purposeful. The mixing and mastering are so pristine you can almost hear the room where it was recorded—the creak of wood floors, the faint hum of life outside the window. It’s an album that respects space and uses it to create intimacy, as though Herring is sitting across from you with her guitar, singing just for you.

But don’t mistake its quietness for passivity—this is music with teeth. Beneath its delicate exterior lies a core of steel: stories of resilience, heartbreak, and hope told with unflinching honesty. Herring’s ability to balance vulnerability with strength is what makes her such a compelling artist. She doesn’t just sing these songs; she inhabits them, breathing life into every word and chord.

Golden Apples Of The Sun is an album for those who crave substance over spectacle, for listeners who find beauty in subtlety and depth. It’s perfect for late-night introspection or long drives through empty roads when the world feels too loud.

Curator's Note:

I'm not really into Folk music but this album hit me in the feels. Maybe it's because I like to take late-night walks in the snow in winter. The way snow deadens the noise around you, and all I hear is Caroline and her guitar is quite powerful. Kinda makes me feel like a tough pioneer who can brave anything.