In The Garden by Cynthia Clawson: A Timeless Gospel Journey That Feels Like Home
Let’s get real for a second—there’s something about In The Garden by Cynthia Clawson that just hits different. Released way back in 1982, this album is one of those hidden gems you stumble upon and wonder how it stayed under your radar for so long. It’s not flashy or overly produced; instead, it feels like sitting on a porch with an old friend who knows exactly what to say when life gets heavy.
The genre? Folk, World, & Country—but don’t let that box fool ya. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill country record. With its gospel soul and heartfelt delivery, it's more like church wrapped up in music form. And if I’m being honest, two tracks stuck out to me so much they’ve been looping in my head ever since I first heard them: “In The Garden” and “Love Lifted Me.”
Now, “In The Garden”… wow. Just WOW. If you’ve ever felt lost or overwhelmed, this song wraps around you like a warm hug from someone who really gets it. Clawson’s voice has this raw vulnerability that doesn’t feel forced—it’s like she’s singing directly to YOU. The arrangement by Buryl Red keeps things simple but powerful, letting her vocals shine while Charlie McCoy’s harmonica adds this earthy texture that makes the whole thing breathe. You can almost picture yourself walking through that garden, feeling peace wash over you. It’s sacred without trying too hard, which is rare these days.
Then there’s “Love Lifted Me.” Oh man, this one got me right in the chest. There’s something about the way Clawson belts out those lines—it’s not flashy or overdone, just pure emotion pouring out. When she sings, “I was sinking deep in sin / Far from the peaceful shore,” it feels personal, like she’s lived every word of it. Bob Moore’s bassline gives it weight, grounding the track, while Farrell Morris’ subtle percussion (hello, maracas!) brings just enough lift to keep it floating. By the end, you’re left thinking, “Yeah, maybe love CAN lift me too.”
What strikes me most about this album is how human it feels. These aren’t perfect studio takes where everything sounds polished to death—they’re real performances full of cracks and imperfections that make them beautiful. Even the backing vocals have this lived-in quality, like everyone involved was as invested in telling these stories as Clawson herself.
And hey, here’s a random thought—I bet Lenny Meyer had no idea their artwork would still be talked about nearly four decades later. But good design sticks, doesn’t it?
So yeah, In The Garden might be from 1982, but it doesn’t feel dated at all. In fact, it feels kinda timeless. Like those moments in life where everything slows down and you realize what truly matters. Weirdly enough, listening to it made me think about how we could all use a little more grace these days—both for ourselves and others. Maybe that’s why albums like this stick around. They remind us we’re not alone, even when it feels like we are.
Now go listen to it. Seriously. Your soul might thank you later.
