Wandering the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena years ago, Grant-Lee Phillips stumbled upon an Indian painting whose title would linger in his mind like a whispered refrain: In The Hour of Dust. The phrase eventually found its way onto the cover of his twelfth solo album, a richly textured, deeply introspective work that bridges personal reflection with cultural unease, as only Phillips can.

That twilight hour, known in Indian tradition as “the hour of cow dust,” when the day winds down and the light turns soft and golden, became a metaphor for the album’s mood: contemplative, uncertain, and quietly luminous. “It’s that moment of the day when the cows are led back home, they kick up the dust; that’s a cue to prepare the lamps,” Phillips says. “Night is about to fall.”

With In The Hour of Dust, Phillips lights a lamp of his own, one powered by poetic observation, autobiographical depth, and a painter’s eye for detail. It’s a natural extension of the multidisciplinary creative life he’s led since his Stockton, California days, one that began with visual art, veered into filmmaking, and ultimately took root in music at the height of L.A.’s underground explosion in the early ’80s.

While Phillips is known for his evocative storytelling as the frontman of Grant Lee Buffalo and a long run of celebrated solo albums, he’s still driven by the pull of the canvas. “Art was my first love,” he says. “Painting quiets, or directs my mind toward a focal point. And everything else goes away.” That same aesthetic focus runs through every song here; words as brushstrokes, emotions as color.

The result is a set of songs that feel both timely and timeless. The opener “Little Men” reflects Phillips’ belief in humanity, even as he acknowledges that American freedoms remain unevenly distributed. Meanwhile, Tonight” digs into the tension between potential and collapse. “We’re closer than ever to realizing our greatest potential,” he says, “yet closer than ever to self-destruction.”

But In The Hour of Dust is among the most personal records Phillips has ever made. Songs like “She Knows Me” and “Someone” explore connection, vulnerability, and the kind of quiet intimacy that holds steady through chaos. “It’s an acknowledgment,” he says, “of the fears and insecurities that come knocking in the late hours, and being thankful that there’s someone who knows me, better than I do myself at times.”

There’s also humor and resilience, drawn from his Muskogee (Creek) heritage. On “Did You Make It Through the Night Okay,” Phillips plays with a darkly funny turn of phrase that doubles as a morning greeting in the Muskogee language, one that resonates all too well in our current age. “It’s reflective of those who have experienced hardship and look upon each day as a new blessing,” he says.

Phillips started recording In The Hour of Dust in his Nashville home studio in early 2024, capturing the album’s quieter corners - songs like “Stories We Tell,” “Closer Tonight,” and “No Mistaking”- before heading west to Lucy’s Meat Market in Eagle Rock. There, he called on old friends: keyboardist Patrick Warren, bassist Jennifer Condos, and drummer Jay Bellerose, with Pete Min engineering. “Jay and Jennifer have such a beautiful chemistry,” he notes. “And Patrick pulled off these incredibly symphonic keyboard parts.”

Back in Nashville, Phillips brought in Brendan Benson to help recut vocals and guitar for “No Mistaking,” a track that evolved from hushed home demo to full-bodied reflection. Throughout, Phillips balances the intimacy of bedroom recordings with the lived-in warmth of studio takes, shaping a record that feels both handmade and expansive.