Nanci Griffith’s mix of country humble and literary ambition made her one of the most quietly unclassifiable artists of her generation. Born in Seguin, Texas, in 1954, and raised in Austin before moving to Nashville (a source of dislocation that, at times, inspired friction about where and to which traditions she belonged), she started her career on Austin’s small-club and coffeehouse circuit, mixing with country and roots artists like Jimmie Dale Gilmore and Lucinda Williams. From the beginning, her music was porous, weaving between folk austerity and Nashville polish (“Lone Star State of Mind”), with bits of bluegrass (“I Wish It Would Rain”), protest music, and, at points in her career, straight-ahead pop-rock (“Late Night Grande Hotel”). And even at its twangiest, her delivery had a sense of poise that made her as much a presence in the world of adult contemporary alternative music as in country and folk. Not, of course, that it matters: If Griffith’s legacy lies anywhere, it’s in putting the earnestness of her expression ahead of genre distinctions. She died in August 2021 at the age of 68, leaving behind nearly 20 albums and a catalog of songs covered by dozens, including Willie Nelson and Cher.