Track Listing

1. Siren's Admonition
2. Hazel Eyes, I Will Lead You
3. By the Shape of Your Pearls
4. Stones Throw from Heaven
5. Where There Are Trees
6. Golden Wooden Tone
7. There Are Eyes Above
8. Celebrant's Song
9. Good News
10. Trees Lay By
11. Pruner's Pair
12. Crackerjack Fool
13. Way Is Sweetly Mown
14. Hominy Grits

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #38078 in Music
• Released on: 2005-09-12
• Number of discs: 1

Customer Reviews

The most exciting artist making music today?
Josephine Foster seems to have been on a wild musical ride these last few years. As part of Born Heller(her collaboration with Jason Ajemian) she produced an album of austere folky melancholia for which she wrote the bulk of the songs, then as JF and the Supposed she channelled Patti Smith and Television via The Who and Jefferson Airplane into folk rock and most recently recorded an album of German folk balladry set to a backdrop of acoustic minimalism and electric guitars.

This album, though, is her best to date. It's a magnificent achievement on every level: not only does she write all the songs and play every instrument, including guitar, harp, dulcimer, sitar, cittarina, sandblocks, kazoo(!), black cat(?!), 'a box of wire ties' as well as providing her own vocal accompaniment, she also produces the record too.
I first heard of this album a year or more ago and comparisons to Joanna Newsom's "The Milk-Eyed Mender" were enough to intrigue me, but it was only comparatively recently that I finally got a copy. I certainly wish I had been a little more impulsive at the time. It's easy to see why such comparisons have been made: solo female artist, plays harp, unusual voice and associate of Devandra Bahart, but they are not much alike. If anything Josephine Foster is the less accessible, harder to like immediately, of the two. My advice to those who found Joanna Newsom not to there liking, is that they are unlikely to become very fond of this.

The first play of this CD left me with the impression of a unique and unusual artist with a very distinctive style, but on subsequent plays I realised there was so much more here than that. The album is an absolute gem!
I read one review which suggested that the impact of her voice and lyrical style `overcomes the need for conventional melody' but the writer overlooked the fact, that after a few listens, you'll find that the record is packed with winning melodies.
There is such a diverse collection of music here: the title track I found almost instantly lovable, `Stones throw from heaven' has a rough hewn gospel sound and 'Trees lay by'(my personal favourite) has beautifully haunting and tender melody, while the kazoo solo in `The golden wooden tone' raises a smile but is absolutely perfect for the song.
Sometimes the album sounds like a folk academic's porch recordings, such is the feeling of perfect antiquity, but then as with the opening track, when the intrusion of a sitar's buzz adds an unexpected touch, the album always veers away from such neat categorisations. The music calls on earlier times for inspiration but is not of any specific period.

It is the discovery of an album such as this that makes the whole process of listening to new music worthwhile. This is an album that won't be for everyone, but those who find it is to their liking, are likely to find it becomes a very special part of their lives indeed.

Clever, weird, folky...
Her delivers her words beautifully, and her voice is unique. I really like the structure of her songs, she plays guitar very well, and the other 11 instruments on the album. great lyrics too, can be quite dark at times. very highly reccomended.

A album out of time
I bought this album a while ago on an occasion when I bought a whole batch of folk albums from different eras and countries. When I got round to listening to it I couldn't remember anything about its providence and I just put it on and listened. I was convinced on that first listen that it it was a lost classic from the late-60s/early-70s so convincing it is in its apparent purity and simplicity of arrangement - and I have no doubt this is entirely deliberate given that the sleeve design is also typical of that same period - the photographs, graphics, typography etc. all scream 'Judy Collins'. But what about the music? Well, as with Joanna Newsom, once you are accustomed to the strangeness of the voice (a kind of gentle trilling with remarkable changes of register), there is undoubted quality here. Much of the instrumentation has a DIY kind of feel (as you would maybe expect from one of Devendra Banhart's contemporaries) - 'box of wires' is listed as one of the instruments for example and all of it is played by Foster herself. Where Joanna Newsom's songs are often captivating in their quirkiness, Foster's unfold their secrets and layers slowly and shyly, it is an album that demands your time and rewards you for your efforts. My overall impression on listening to it is that sounds as if it has been recorded without Foster's knowledge (as impression only belied by the ocassional double tracked vocals and simple multi-instrumental arrangements), almost as if listening is like eavsedropping on a singer in the next room who sings beautiful, haunting music but only to soothe her own hurts and concerns - as if these songs are not designed for the ears of anyone but the performer. This private intimacy is apparent too in the lyrics, with oblique slants and references to disguises, the 'seen but never known' and summed up by the line 'I know its not eay to share'. But don't be fooled, the impression of an album made for and by an obscure folk artist is cracked now and again with sly humour (Crackerjack Fool) and jauntier than usual rhythms (Good News). I suppose ultimately it doesn't matter when it was made if the music is as interesting as this but the (clearly) deliberate muddying of the waters in terms of the album's period of conception and production is something that will either fascinate or trouble many people. For me it raises a lot of interesting questions but none of them detract from the pleasures this album gives up to the dedicated listener.