Cleo Reed

Cleo Reed is here to reshape your understanding of American folk music—or of the breadth and depth that’s possible when you render it as Americana. The child of parents who met in the South and then headed for New York City, Reed’s vision of what constitutes folk reflects ideas of the country not only as a melting pot but also where change is lifeblood, where progress is the force that sustains it. “Folkloric because it is tethered to a location, because it is tethered to a demographic of people,” Reed said, describing the abiding ethic of their astounding 2025 breakout, Cuntry, to Stereogum, “and it is tethered to a specific kind of call to action, right?”  

Indeed, written in part while Reed worked double shifts for Whole Foods and Amazon during the pandemic, Cuntry squares up to national woes—misogyny, a devastated worker class, rampant inequality—and implicitly and explicitly suggests that solidarity can beat them back. You can hear it in the way Reed jumps genre lines, from the crisscrossed soul and electronica of “Americana” to the mutated folk and rap of “Women at War,” from the amoebic folk-jazz of opener “Salt n’ Lime” to the skywriting disco-pop of closer “Nona’s Jam.” There’s trap, reggaeton, gospel, and a little bit of whatever other sounds you have heard in American popular music during the last decade. Cuntry is a testament to what seems to be Reed’s mission: to make folk of the people, for them to use.