Marcus Foster - Nameless Path

Since this record is out on Ben (Mumford) Lovett’s Communion label, it could so easily be written off as another rickety, half-hearted nu-folk jumble attempting to mount the Mumfords’ waistcoat-ed roller-coaster ride towards Fearne Cotton proclaiming her adulation and to infinity and beyond. But it mustn’t. For it seems this other Marcus lad has for the most part bucked the conventions of his peers. Yes, there’s the garish exception or two, but where before irksome banjo noodles and warbling group harmonies were inescapable and souls were seemingly excused from duty, a raw honesty and musical primitiveness lurk in their place. Indeed it seems Marcus Foster alighted from the LDN folk bandwagon a long, long time ago, if he was ever on it in the first place.

Best known up to now as co-author of ‘Let Me Sign’, the shambolically soulful Twilight theme sung by Robert Pattinson, it’s evident from the outset that the man has carefully crafted and slicked his own heartfelt, histrionic take on soul-folk. As a self-professed amant of Nina Simone and Louis Armstrong, his music also successfully backs up this circumstance. It’s almost exactly what you’d expect, but in a good way - blues thru ‘n’ thru and rather over-the-top, with quite a lot of yearning drama dashed here and there. Take single ‘Shadows of the City’ in which we hear the chilling coos of a choir in the background, his own vocals encompassing both the soulful and the guttural. Other song structures vary; some detonate incessantly, others wallow languidly, but at no point do we feel the album congealing and our interest coming to a standstill.

Be it Scott Matthews’ folksy soulfulness (the second half of ‘Memory of Your Arms’), ‘Gold’-era Ryan Adams’ country ditties (‘You My Love’, ‘I Don’t Mind’) or Tom Waits’ depressive bleakness (‘Nameless Path’) he touches on, the right amount of atmosphere is almost always there. Further to this, the jesting Ronson-esque horns and general family-friendliness of ‘The Room’ and ‘Faint Stir of Madness’ nod toward Paolo Nutini at his least MOR. Meanwhile the consummate ‘Rushes & Reeds’ with its fierce distorted riffs and megaphoned vocals mesh the aforementioned blues of Nina Simone with the Cave Singers’ heavier moments. So too does the glorious ‘Screamadelica’ disintegration of ‘Movement’ with its gospel choir and his frankly hilarious gusts of joy.

It isn’t all good news though - one obvious disappointment is opener ‘Old Birch Tree’. Although its country swoon and handclaps are sure to induce sing-alongs, you can quite vividly imagine a crooning Marcus Mumford singing the ridiculous refrain of ‘If I tie up my troubles to the old birch tree / and if I don’t, chop it down, no chop it down’ in one his faux catharses. This and the curt, ill-fitted piano solo aside, however, and the song is just about acceptable as an intro. The next twelve tracks more than make up for it anyway.

This all adds up to one conclusion: the mainstream is beckoning for Foster, but not entirely via Mumford & Sons’ route. All he needs to do now is get the marketing right, the Ed Sheeran and Birdy fans in tow, and credible chart success could so easily follow – and with songs like ‘I Was Broken’, ‘Shadows Of The City’ and ‘I Don’t Mind’ this certainly doesn’t appear an all too distant prospect. All in all, this is an excellent debut from a highly promising singer-songwriter.