A voyage around his father from a soulful singer.
Foy Vance’s seventh album is pitched as the end of a voyage commenced when he learned of the death of his father 26 years ago. As such, it’s an album which is contemplative at times, although there is space for raucous Southern blues and soul as Vance reflects on life and its vagaries across 13 tracks.
The album opens with an outlier, a song defiantly at odds with what follows, in the shape of the nine-minute junkyard blues of A.I., a song about the perils of, you guessed it, artificial intelligence. A blizzard of shredded guitar opens the opus before Vance weighs in, declaiming like a gospel preacher, which leads on to the gospel-like refrain. Amidst the fractured guitars and the testifying, there’s a spoken word interlude about crane flies before the song peters out in fine fashion with noodling guitar and soulful wailing. Cranked up loud, it’s quite tremendous, but it’s an odd and adventurous way to open an album.
There’s more soul on the jaunty I Ain’t Sold On Time and on the sly funk of Money, both of which have a New Orleans feel, while When I See You At The Right Time channels a Muscle Shoals vibe, which is perfectly suited to Vance’s raw yet versatile voice. He returns to gospel influences on the closing Bathed In Light, which is suffused with love and joy, as Vance says of the song, “Of the seven albums I have made and released, this is the only one to finish on a high note.”
The heart of the album, however, is in a clutch of songs which do seem to pertain to his “voyage.” Hi, I’m The Preacher’s Son finds Vance comparing his father’s pulpit to him appearing on a stage and pondering the similarities. While the song gently pulsates, Vance’s oft-repeated line, “I’m no fortunate son“, inevitably recalls Creedence Clearwater’s song, while his slight vocal similarity to John Fogerty reinforces this. Call me Anytime, a tender ballad, reverses this situation as Vance sings a song of encouragement and hope to his offspring, while on We Almost Made It, another gentle offering, finds him posturing his father as a guiding light in his artistic endeavours. Encapsulating all these thoughts and feelings, I’m Not Celebrating finds Vance, backed only by his acoustic guitar, coming to a closure of sorts, accepting that loss can gradually be transformed into hope. However, for sheer enjoyment, Ever Feel Like Everybody’s Just Coming At You, a last-minute addition to the album according to Vance, is a short and sweet rhapsody, which, with its burbling bass and late-night ambience, recalls the late John Martyn.
