I want to start off this article by asserting that Janelle Monáe’s “Dirty Computer” should have won Album of the Year. Of course, given the Grammy Awards’ notorious track record of benching black artists in the AOTY category, I knew chances of Monáe winning were slim.

Taking into account the Grammys’ reluctance to award Album of the Year to artists of color (there hasn’t been a black winner in over a decade), who did that leave? Post Malone? In this economy? Surely not!

Imagine everyone’s surprise when Album of the Year went to Kacey Musgraves’s “Golden Hour”: the rainbowiest, sunshine-iest dark horse to ever grace the awards show in our lifetime. Perhaps Musgraves was the most surprised of all, if her viral “What? What??” reaction is anything to go by.

It’s funny; despite “Golden Hour”’s commercial and critical success – named Album of the Year by Apple, Entertainment Weekly and People – the album was likely most people’s last pick for the Grammys’ AOTY. (Aside from maybe Brandi Carlile’s “By the Way, I Forgive You” – sorry, lesbians.)

To further reinforce the “dark-horsiness” of “Golden Hour,” Musgraves won the most Grammys of the night. On top of Album of the Year, Musgraves was awarded Best Country Solo Performance for “Butterflies,” Best Country Song for “Space Cowboy” and Best Country Album.

I know what you’re thinking: the last thing this nation needs is some more yeehaw bullshit at the forefront of… anything. And you’re right. But “Golden Hour” is, and I cannot stress this enough, not yeehaw bullshit.

“Golden Hour” is, however, so goddamn chill. The album “goes down so smooth,” Pitchfork’s Sam Sodomsky writes, “it might not even register as a total reinvention.”  Musgraves, known for her progressive tongue-and-cheek cynicism in previous albums, takes a patient, introspective approach this time around, highlighting specifically her newfound appreciation of the natural world and the nuances of relationships.

She sets the tone right out the gate with opener “Slow Burn,” an ode to taking time to stop and enjoy life for a bit. The bridge is a notably radical one-line shrug – “Whatever feels good” – and marks the climax of the song where celestial violins rise and fall over an acoustic guitar like waves on the shore. It’s a wonderful experience: a four minute-long exhale.

Despite its chill disposition, “Golden Hour” is also a strong work of subtlety. Musgraves winks at her out-and-proud love for hallucinogens in “Oh, What a World,” where she mentions “Plants that grow and open your mind” – and “Mother,” written during an acid trip, is surprisingly poignant: “Hope my tears don’t freak you out… / It’s the music in me and all of the colors.”

Another theme Musgraves delves into with nuanced expertise is her musings on her own agency. Even in lovey-dovey bops like “Butterflies” and “Velvet Elvis,” she refuses to be acted upon even by her lover (in the former, she applauds him for “stealing my heart ‘stead of stealing my crown”).

The song that best displays Musgraves’ agency, however, is “Space Cowboy”: a gorgeous send-off tune which showcases the country singer at her most mature and level-headed. In it, Musgraves breaks off a relationship for her lover’s own sake. In a striking moment of clarity, she delivers a heartbreaking line: “Sunsets fade, and love does too.”

Maybe that’s the best word I can use to describe “Golden Hour”: clarity. Whether she’s tiredly leveling with a lover in “Wonder Woman” or telling herself (and the LGBTQ+ community!!) not to give up hope on the album closer “Rainbow,” she’s facing the world and everything it has to offer with confidence, curiosity and clarity.

For those of you who are skeptical or reluctant to give “Golden Hour” the attention it deserves because it beat out Janelle Monáe and, uh, *checks notes*, Post Malone at the Grammys – give it the benefit of the doubt. Listen to it with an open mind. You might surprise yourself.