Like the best folk music, Gillian Welch’s output seems to exist outside the flow of linear time. Her debut album, 1996’s skeletal and captivating Revival, could have been mistaken for a lost recording from decades before, and in the years since, her recordings have only probed deeper into the enduring spirit of old-time country and bluegrass. Born in New York City in 1967, Welch grew up in Los Angeles, attending alternative schools and singing folk music; in college, she cycled through scrappy rock bands before rediscovering her love of bluegrass and eventually, after studying music at Berklee—where she met her partner, guitarist David Rawlings—decamping to Nashville. (The pair have called themselves a duo that simply bears only one of their names.) As a storyteller, she favors tales of outlaws and ne’er-do-wells, the woebegone and down-and-out, and the duo’s acoustic playing gives the music a similarly timeless cast. The heart of it all is Welch’s voice: mournful, weary, tapping into the mystery of what author Greil Marcus called the “old, weird America” with uncommon grace.