Often, when I write these reviews that I try and do each day, its all about the intro. Something comes to me and it all flows from there.
I’d assumed, that when I came to write these words about “Blood Brothers” it’d be easy. You see, I’d had the record for a couple of years. It came out in 2018 in the US and I’d been a fan for ages, since my great Steve Earle phase in the early part of the 20th century led me to investigate other artists who sang like they believed it.
That led me to Jeffrey Foucault. A year or two younger than me, he sings about stuff that I understand – lost love, feeling lost, whatever – and with “Blood Brothers” being essentially a record of memories, writing about it two years on was, at first glance, simple.
Then the world changed, and I was sitting in the warm, spring evening as the sun shone down on my garden last night. Listening to the record with fresh ears, and it is a strange time right now. And although when he wrote “Dishes” no one knew what Coronavirus was, no one knew what a “furlough” meant (in England anyway) somehow, the line he sings in the first verse about “the light is always perfect just before it fades” had some other (greater? I don’t know, maybe?) meaning.
Right then, there, the gorgeous ballad, sang with his wife Kris Delmhorst, made sense.
That is what great songwriting always does, it evolves. I can listen to one of those Steve Earle albums now, say, those words aren’t about the same thing they were in 2001, the same as the brilliant “War On The Radio” – with its key line “you know the sun is going down, on everything you’ve ever known” – is underlined as important here, maybe not then.
Although reflective, this is not maudlin. “I still believe in rock n roll” he exclaims at one point, it’s just that there is some inherent darkness in its lines. “Blown” which sees the wonderful Tift Merritt join him for a duet recalls Jason Isbell in places, and there is just a hint of the much missed Chris Whiteley in the lugubriousness of “Blood Brothers” and if, like me, you lie awake at night wondering if she’d still know you, then its good to know you are not alone.
And maybe she’s the same girl as in “Little Warble” which actually namechecks a Fleetwood Mac song and has a similar chilled West Coast vibe – and its not a huge surprise that Don Henley covers Foucault’s songs either, when you hear this stuff.
There’s just an innate skill in this. There’s no better way to put it. Fragility is shot through “Cheap Suit”, but the pictures its paints are incredibly evocative, and the way “Rio” is framed by its pedal steel (played by Eric Heywood who has worked with Pretenders) is special.
Just occasionally, it is shot through with the same sunlight I enjoyed in the opener. “I Know You” is a simple love song, and its just lovely, and the kind of helpless shuffle of “Dying Just A Little” balances it perfectly.
Another guest, Milk Carton Kids’ Kenneth Pattenden, appears for the sparse “Pretty Hands”, playing some perfect lead but Foucalt steals the show here with this: “your heart, is like a city” he muses. “I get lost there from time to time” before adding this: “my heart is like a small town, most of the best parts are hard to find….”
Singer-songwriting doesn’t get a lot better, and it is said that Foucault learned his craft by playing along to John Prine. We lost Prine in the week that I am writing this. His work is a gap in my knowledge that I need to fix, but the outpouring of love for him from many of my favourites from Springsteen to Stephen Fearing, tells me he belongs in the very top draw.
So, in my view, does Jeffrey Foucault, and if you haven’t delved in, “Blood Brothers” is a hell of a place to start.
Rating 9/10
