Robert Forster Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
The Evangelist by singer and songwriter Robert Forster is his first solo recording in 11 years. It may not be a record he ever planned to make at all after the unexpected death of Grant McLennan, his collaborator for over 25 years in the Go Betweens. The band had released and was on tour for Oceans Apart, a masterpiece surpassed only by 16 Lovers Lane, if at all. Forster and McLennan had begun writing a new Go Betweens album in 2006, when McLennan passed away in his sleep from natural causes just shy of his 47th birthday. Three of the songs on this album were co-written by the pair and contain McLennan's final lyrics. That said, The Evangelist is not an elegy or a conscious homage to McLennan. The remaining Go Betweens -- bassist Adele Pickvance and drummer Glenn Thompson -- make up the core band, with a small string section arranged by Audrey Riley (who did them for the Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express). Pianist Seamus Beaghen lends a hand on keyboards. Mark Wallis and Dave Ruffy produced The Evangelist. So is this a Go Betweens record without McLennan? No, but it's close, and it is certainly a new brand of Forster solo album. Forster's writing here is quite different than on his previous offerings. Always a poetic writer, his allusions, metaphors, cultural archetypes, and literary aspirations -- which appeared in his solo material and sometimes in the Go Betweens' as well, but the latter's were always tempered by McLennan's earthy approach -- are all but absent on The Evangelist. Instead, Forster has never been this direct before, so unadorned and honest, and yes, vulnerable without the mask of his gift to weave a story, even in first person, and make himself seem a narrator. These songs are conversational; they express what the protagonist is feeling as a way of opening a dialogue with the listener. The Evangelist is not an elegy or simply some tawdry memorial, but it is a living testament to the influence and camaraderie McLennan brought to Forster's life and work. The ten-song, 40-minute set begins with "Let It Rain," introduced by the sound of a small chord of a droning Casio. Electric guitar chords shimmer and softly ring into the foreground slowly and deliberately. As the bassline all but whispers in the backdrop, Forster opens his mouth and unlocks the door to everything that follows: "If it rains, now we'll change/We'll hold and save all of what came/We won't let it run away/...If it rains/different this time/We won't break the chain or make our own rain/We'll just take what came/If it rains. We'll worship again...We'll be thankful for what came..." An acoustic guitar and the sound of a thunderstorm eclipse the electric one, and suddenly, it just ends. It's a gentle manifesto, not an anthem. "Demon Days," one of the songs written with McLennan, is almost purely his. It's filled with that look into the void, tenderly and sadly; it's tempting to read this as a kind of unknowing goodbye, but perhaps it's simply a look into regret in the present moment of being middle-aged and the nagging feeling that "something's not right/something's gone wrong." Here Forster's enunciation shapeshifts, allowing for McLennan's voice in the tune to come through clearly, illustrated by strings, acoustic guitars, a celeste, piano, and a contrabass and the final underscoring of a gentle, pop-laden backing chorus of hushed voices. It's deeply effective, sad beyond belief, but Forster's ability to channel his late friend's manner of acceptance as a natural part of the baggage of life is remarkable, and deeply moving. He shifts gears immediately with "Pandanus," one of the finest tracks he's ever written. It's got a midtempo, elegant rock hook, accompanied by Adele and Glenn: this is a Go Betweens song if ever there was one, with a shimmering Beach Boys-styled backing chorus and a stridently graceful, unforced articulation of the melody which lets his lyrics just fall into the listener's lap: "...I love the shades of nightfall, the faded blues and grays/The silver on the water, seems to push so many things away, all away..." "Did She Overtake You" is one of those trademark busted love songs, where the potential for bliss is lost and covered over by the reality of not paying close enough attention to one's beloved. The narrator is asking the protagonist a question, and with layers of guitars a winding bass and simple kit drums, the only answer that comes is a sigh. The title track is so gorgeous it seems like a sin to even discuss it. It's among Forster greatest confessionals, that as it accepts responsibility and atones for its presumption and ignorance, and allows for the possibility of transformation because, if it's not to late, the protagonist can actually hear the voice of his Beloved's heart. The strings and acoustic guitar with that lilting piano line make it one of the most breathtaking moments on the disc. McLennan wrote the chorus on "Let Your Light In, Babe," and it's obvious. It's a jaunty, sunny pop stroll with the Go Betweens and Gill Morley on violin. Forster took the chorus and wrote the entire song in McLennan's musical and even lyrical vernacular. The same goes for "It Ain't Easy," the hardest rocking cut on the set. Its jangling guitars and run-on lines are a wonderful combination of McLennan's rocked up pop and Forster's ability to tell a story, resolved in every chorus by Grant's return to the basics. Here again, this is a Go Betweens tune with help from Morley on violin and Seamus on the B-3. Forster's "From Ghost Town," with Adele on backing vocals, closes the album. It's a long-winding sad story, played on the piano with string accompaniment -- the arrangement is glorious. It's the song Forster has perhaps written for McLennan but maybe there are others in it, too. It's very sad, extremely lost and confused but the line: "It's strong: yes, yes, yes, what we made for a thousand years/It will not fade/No, no. no . . " It's a breathless and devastating way to end a record, to be sure, but it's far from depressing. If anything, The Evangelist reveals Forster's conviction to just go on and make music, even if it's just this one recording (though given its quality and the empathic presence of the remaining Go Betweens, you hope not). If it's an album of closure, then it is a way to wrap the package with a beautiful bow rather than letting it sit there like an open wound and be wasted away by the weight of time. Yet somehow, there is little finality here, and just an abundance of brilliant, emotionally communicable and translatable, adult pop music that does its best to practice acceptance and find beauty as one goes on living and creating even in the face of life -- altering tragedy. Bittersweet and poignant, The Evangelist is Robert Forster's most fully realized, seamless, and masterfully articulated solo record yet. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Produced by Edwyn Collins, a longtime acquaintance of Forster from their Orange Juice/Go-Betweens days on the Postcard label, Warm Nights continues the string of wry, sharp romance from Forster's other solo releases. The flavor of Warm Nights is a touch less obviously country-pitched in comparison -- more of the deft, understated rock/pop that the Go-Betweens were known for more returns, though occasional acoustic steel guitar breaks and the like show that Forster hasn't turned away from that approach entirely. If anything, though, the most notable guest musical work comes from a different angle, with five separate folks credited for a variety of brass instruments (tuba, trombone, and the like), plus another guest on cello. Collins himself helps lead the core band backing Forster, and both his performance and production emphasize a calm, wiry approach that's very direct, going so far as to leave in the occasional glitch or audible tape edit. Forster's singing is extremely clear and straightforward, sounding like he's singing right in a listener's ear, without being overbearing (though there's a hint of over-modulation on the recording once or twice). Musically, touches like rough guitar solos buried under echo and the New Orleans jazz horns on "Fortress" give Warm Nights a comparative depth, balancing the immediacy of the music with greater detail. One song worthy of attention is "Rock 'n' Roll Friend," a Go-Betweens rarity turned into a low-key anthem (though admittedly the organ soloing could easily have been lost without hurting the performance). Other notable tracks include the title cut, a quick, nervous kick, and the light R&B/funk groove of "Jug of Wine." Warm Nights itself turned out to be the last album Forster released before the Go-Betweens' reunion, but as the end, for now, of his solo career, it's a worthy effort. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
'I Had a New York Girlfriend'
Release Date 1/1/1994
Tracks 12
Label Beggars Banquet
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Forster's entry in the line of albums consisting of covers by other artists, along the lines of David Bowie's Pin-Ups, makes for an interesting and at times defiantly anti-hip visit through a surprising, entertaining selection of songs. The lineup of the backing band varies from track to track, but a variety of old friends sit in, the one constant being Nick Cave regular Conway Savage on keyboards, with fellow Bad Seed Mick Harvey appearing on almost everything himself. Other fellow Aussie friends and musical fellow travelers -- Dirty Three's Warren Ellis, the Blackeyed Susans' Rob Snarski, and more -- pop up here and there as well, lending the album a feeling of a casual, fun get-together. Nothing's sloppy about the performances, though. Forster's country & western jones is again clear, and everyone turns in at least competent and at best really noteworthy turns, whether it's Graham Lee's pedal steel on Guy Clark's "Broken Hearted People" or Charlie Owen's dobro on the Bill Anderson-penned "3 AM." Forster himself salutes a range of worthy folks in his selection of remakes -- choosing names like Bob Dylan and Mickey Newbury might almost seem too obvious, but Forster and company do them proud. Some of the song choices are really inspired, selecting some unexpected contemporaries of Forster to pay tribute to. New wave icons Martha and the Muffins get the nod with a brisk, quietly passionate take on "Echo Beach," Ellis adding some sharp violin to the proceedings, while a take on Husker Du drummer Grant Hart's solo debut single, "2541," makes for another gently energetic highlight. The real surprise -- and almost as a result, the album's top winner -- is the piano/vocal-only take on "Alone," Heart's AOR mid-'80s power ballad hit, turned into a effective, stripped-down meditation on romantic solitude. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Calling From a Country Phone is sometimes referred to as Robert Forster's "country" album, but the folk-rock sound (with occasional pedal steel) recalls Felt's Me and a Monkey on the Moon more than anything that has ever come out of Nashville. Forster's no-frills production suits his idiosyncratic and dramatic style, which requires very little in terms of accompaniment for its effect. "Atlanta Lie Low" seems too low-key to open an album, but it is immediately followed by "121," an unusually straight rocker on which Forster's delivery actually suggests Elvis Presley at times. "Drop" was the album's single, a dynamic song that deserved to be heard but would have found no place on the charts of the day, and "Falling Star" is just as good. Calling From a Country Phone is the only one of Forster's solo albums that was never released in the U.S., which is both disappointing and understandable since it probably would not have gained an audience beyond the adulatory cult surrounding the Go-Betweens. ~ Greg Adams, All Music Guide
'Danger in the Past'
Release Date 1/1/1991
Tracks 9
Label Beggars Banquet
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Forster's solo debut saw him reinvented a touch as the classic traditionalist -- certainly the cover photo, black and white with him dressed in a neat suit, looks like it could have been taken somewhere in rural America circa 1920. For all that, Forster himself wasn't sounding like an unearthed wax cylinder recording from the back of beyond -- Danger in the Past, if anything, continues from where the Go-Betweens had temporarily stopped, with literate, understated rock & roll still the driving focus. Away from McLennan, a full album of Forster's gently cracked, high vocals succeeds better than might be thought, setting and maintaining a variety of moods from sudden energy to soft rumination, especially evident on the death-haunted title track. Perhaps the secret to the album's success partly lies in his collaborators -- fellow Australian music legend Mick Harvey took some time off from working with Nick Cave to produce and play, bringing fellow Bad Seeds vets Thomas Wydler and Hugo Race with him. Wisely, nobody tries to sound like Saint Nick, least of all Forster himself -- this is his own reflective, quietly energetic vision and style through and through, and his fellow performers play to his strengths. There's a strong element of country & western in Danger in the Past, generally avoiding brawling honky tonk in favor of an elegant, almost studied high and lonesome approach not far off from Bob Dylan's own experiments in the field. Certainly the roiling Hammond organ background behind the acoustic guitar on the lovely, haunted "The River People," later covered with equal talent by the Walkabouts, hints at something the Band could have done, and why not? Forster's wry sense of humor is clearly evident as well, as on this line from the stop-start shuffle "Dear Black Dream": "Wondering who sings better in the dark/Is it Townes Van Zandt or Guy Clark?" ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
