Josephine Foster
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing Locust http://www.tinymixtapes.comsites/default/files/arton480_0.jpg

[Locust; 2006]

Rating: 4.5/5 4.5 / 5 (0)

When I saw Josephine Foster perform this May in Athens, she seemed for the entire night to wonder why a roomful of people would pay good money to watch her perform some simple songs she had written. She was friendly, genuine, and graceful – all the things one would expect after hearing her music – when some friends and I spoke to her before the show, but she also seemed surprised that strangers would walk up and introduce themselves to her just
because they enjoy her work. On stage, she kept her banter to a minimum, and
when she did talk, it was to the end of demystifying her music: she
introduced "Stone's Throw from Heaven" as a little tune she put together on
the fly during her last stay in Georgia. During the one song she played with
accompanists, Foster invited members of the audience to grab any instruments
they might have handy and join her and her bandmates on stage; when the two
folks who accepted returned to their seats at the song's end, I got the
sense that she wished the wall between observer and performer would remain
down for the rest of the night.

Foster did not, significantly, play any songs from A Wolf in Sheep's
that evening, despite the fact that it was the album for which
she was ostensibly touring. While both cursory and in-depth listens reveal
that the album is by no stretch at odds with the singer's previous
recordings, it is the first of Foster's albums to feel like a closed space,
to create its own consistent environment. You could chalk it up to the fact
that Wolf was recorded in a church – albums made in sanctuaries
(think Talk Talk's Laughing Stock) are often more anchored to their
sites of genesis than others. But Wolf is also a concept-driven
project: it's a collection of seven German lieder, songs for voice and
instruments often credited as the modern pop song's late 19th century
ancestors. The American folk stylings and personable lyrics typical of
Foster's previous albums provide multiple points of immediate contact for
Joe Concertgoer, whereas a Brahms piece has more potential to alienate or
disengage, even when played without the intention of doing so.

But I think there's another reason that Foster may be wary and perhaps even
afraid of playing any of Wolf's songs live: this record makes her
sound special. I've never heard anyone deny Foster's talents, but I have
seen many reviewers and friends shrug her songs off as second-tier fare.
Fair enough, I suppose: if you compare her original material to Devendra
Banhart's or Joanna Newsom's (and we always end up doing this), Foster's
arrangements sound less full and her lyrics appear less idiosyncratic. In
short, she's had as good a voice but not as unique a Voice as her

On this album, though, Foster uses other people's songs to come into her own
as a performer and interpreter, outshining her peers on a number of levels.
You could chalk it up to better source material, but then you'd ignore other
areas of growth. For starters, Foster's more economical than ever on this
outing. Singing in a lullaby cadence, she stretches notes to their limits,
often projecting emotions as varied as bittersweet nostalgia, serenity,
melancholy, and deep-seated joy over the course of a single word by
relishing each phoneme. Her harp provides appropriately baroque
accompaniment, gracefully filling each measure with as much sound as

Guest guitarist Brian Goodman might be most responsible for taking Wolf to
the next level. He first chimes in at the end of opener "An die Musik,"
launching into a noodly, clean tone electric outro that adds a trippy,
psychedelic aftertaste to a performance that otherwise sounds like it could
have happened when the piece was originally written. Goodman's contributions
grow on each successive track, culminating during Schumann's "Auf einer
Burg," a heavily textured, free-form spin cycle of guitar drift that rivals
the SYR series' most disembodied moments in its surrealism. This track
should connect some crucial dots for anyone who's ever wondered why so many
listeners of seemingly genteel singers like Foster or Newsom also have an
appetite for blistering, chaotic artists like Mouthus and Hair Police.

Wolf's avant-garde wanderings are quite interesting in light of how
its songs have been received over the past century. When Cecil Sharp, Ralph
Vaughan Williams, and other middle-class scholars, composers, and society
people revived English folk forms in the early 20th century, purging the
common man's consciousness of German lieder was one of their primary goals,
as they regarded these songs as fleeting, insubstantial scraps of popular
drivel. This revivalist project would establish the milieu from which
Fairport Convention, The Incredible String Band, and other acts who mixed
pop with traditional British folk would rise a few decades later. And now an
American artist who travels in a circuit that is often derided as a mere
reprisal of this late '60s psych-folk scene has made an album full of these
once-despised lieder for a general public that will likely regard her
recording as inaccessible or even pretentious. Neo-folkies like Foster are
often criticized for drawing too heavily from the past, but a look beneath
the surface reveals that their albums are sites for rewriting and
reevaluating received topographies of pop music history. And A Wolf in
Sheep's Clothing
is the most compelling reinterpretation I've heard in
some time.

1. An die Musik
2. Der König in Thule
3. Verschwiegene Liebe
4. Die Schwestern
5. Wehmut
6. Auf einer Burg
7. Nähe des Geliebten


Some musical ruptures are so penetrating, so incisive that we just can’t help but exclaim EUREKA! While many of our picks here defy categorization and test the boundaries of what exactly discerns ‘music’ from ‘noise,’ others complement or continue anachronistic traditions that have provided new forms and ways of listening. We consider the section a work-in-progress, so expect its definition to be in perpetual flux. Check out the section here.