On fifth album Golden Hour in the House of Lugosi, released March 4, Kate Vargas draws closer to the truth of her uniquely nuanced, jazz- and blues-inflected "junkyard folk." Acclaimed by SPIN, Rolling Stone, American Songwriter, Billboard, and No Depression, she tints hermetaphoric storytelling and maverick, outlier Americana with maturing perspectives, folklorefrom her native New Mexico, and literature at large."I've been thinking about what it means to be human," mulled Vargas, chatting from the SanFrancisco studio where she recorded Golden Hour in the House of Lugosi. "I feel like I'm gettingaway from that with so much technology, screens, and related avoidance of certain feelings."Dusty, darkly romantic, and emotionally raw, Golden Hour in the House of Lugosi wraps Vargas'signature gravelly melodies in rootsy acoustic instrumentation and quirky percussion, her voiceenhanced by the sublime harmonizing of The Reckless Daughters (Kate's sister Lizzy Vargas and Lena Kaminsky). At once confessionally intimate and sepia-toned cinematic, it's a quietly riotous album of deep grooves, smoldering moods, and wry worldliness, it's intrigue and curiosityembroidered with Vargas' deft wordplay, palpable charisma and crisp, cultured phrasing.A wide-eyed childhood in the charming New Mexico village of Corrales, rich in Mexican andSouthwestern oral tradition, still permeates Vargas' work, shaped by her Berklee music education and years of international touring. "I was fortunate to grow up with a mother who, if we said we were bored, would say, 'well, go outside and pretend something'," Vargas recalled. "In a place like Corrales, with two paved roads and no stoplight, you can do that." Vargas' singular sound is rooted in open-hearted genre hopping; subtle, soulful sensuality; and a girlish yet textured, old-soul timbre in the tradition of Nina Simone and Eartha Kitt (oncewonderfully described by The Deli Magazine as "a favorite bourbon come to life"). Keeping herrecording process as live and spontaneous as possible while shunning production sheen keepsGolden Hour in the House of Lugosi late-night intimate, vivaciously visceral, and refreshinglyauthentic.With a band of longtime friends and collaborators, Vargas sought to revisit the stripped-down,largely acoustic spirit of her 2018 For The Wolfish & Wandering album, a few years wiser yetwith her resonant lyricism and playful smirk fully intact. Melding her perennial guiding starsSimone, Tom Waits, PJ Harvey, and Leonard Cohen to textured dive-bar vocals and irreverentyet meticulously selected "junkyard" found-object percussion instruments lends Golden Hour inthe House of Lugosi a smoky yet hopeful aura all it's own. Equally of the head and the heart, it'sone of those rare records that manages to sound instinctive and cerebral all at once, it's ostensibly conversational narratives in fact delving deep into the human condition.The album's title is a reference to actor Bela Lugosi being forever typecast as Dracula, and howwe can all fall into adhering to a character cast upon us by others, or even by ourselves, until lifeshines just the right light - the "golden hour" of the title - for us to see a more authentic self."Living can be kind of a slog, and especially right now can feel incredibly dark," Vargas offered."Finding those bits of light when the sun comes in at just the right angle can make things lookdifferent, hopeful, and you find a bit of joy in an unexpected moment."Released by Mother West, Golden Hour in the House of Lugosi is preceded by pairs of singlesbeginning on March 5 with the huskily slinky "Downtown" and the imagined, organ-fleckedfuture regrets of "I Once was a Contender."