The wonderful singer-songwriter Josephine Foster breathes new life into this old world: her many albums are celebrations of myth making, with ancient and modern images, themes, incidents and characters coursing through the songs beautiful realised narratives.
Josephine Foster returns with her new album I'm A Dreamer, which follows on from the success of her previous critically acclaimed album Blood Rushing.
New European Tour Dates announced
10 Apr: The Tine at The Coal Vaults, Coventry, UK
11 Apr: Howard Assembly Room, Leeds, UK
12 Apr: Green Door Store, Brighton, UK
29 Apr: Cave 12, Geneva, Switzerland
30 Apr: Le Sonic, Lyon, France
05 May: House show, Dijon, France
06 May: Hall des Chars, Strasbourg, France
07 May: Manufaktur, Schorndorf, Germany
08 May: Brotfabrik, Frankfurt, Germany
09 May: Kugelbahn, Berlin Germany
12 May: El Lokal, Zurich, Switzerland
23 May: Festival Les Trois Elephants, Laval, France
24 May: Le Chinois, Montreuil, France
05 June: Mining Museum, St.Etienne, France
03 July: Mimi Festival, Frioul Island, Marseille, France
17 July: Latitude Festival, Henham Park, Southwold, UK
23 Aug: Doune The Rabbit Hole, Cardross Estate, UK
Dreamers have dreamt for as long as domes have fallen, bobbing musical swells from Stephen Foster to the Everlys. Now here comes that beautiful dreamer Josephine and, sugarpie, she's not the same. She has donned her magenta vestiments, dreaming back, with mossy verses that haunt like a name never called. It's not just Jo and her shadow, though, this time around-she's got a gaggle of Nashville cats on hand to coax spidery cathedrals from these campfire jams. Folks will want to call this her Harvest-with its harp and pedal steel, its double bass and cascading piano. And it's true, I'm a Dreamer beckons with a gentle hand, each note clear and crisp so that one feels each grain. Amid such delicate charms, however, lurk muses with rotting flesh, ugly ducklings and Djuna Barnes, wooden floors upon which no babies will be rocked. Wily is the heart that wanders filled with duende and desire, that rides the thigh like a parlor guitar when a strap just isn't handy. These are dreams deep enough to bury your dread--as sorrowful, as sexy, as stirring a set of songs as anybody's dreamt up in ages.