Born and raised in Wisconsin, Foucault's web site quotes Townes Van Zandt as a musical reference point. One thing is certain; there is a pronounced Texas feel to the seventy plus minutes of music contained here. As much a legend as Townes is - or in death, has become - I'd maintain that a Georgia boy by the name of Eric Taylor took Van Zandt's vision of writing many stops further down the road, and that's what I hear here. Loud and clear. Taylor's songs work on many levels. They're movies, they're plays with a moral, and they are a code to live your life by. Foucault appears to be in touch with an equally potent muse.
There's a consistent melancholy in Foucault's delivery, a beaten down by life sense of resignation that only comes with the middle years of life. The story of a young logger and his father that evolves in the opening cut, "Ballad of Copper Junction," is a prime example. Stylistically the obtuse reference to Vietnam, "in 1964 I was seventeen years old, I got caught up in the draft, I did what I was told, and spent a pair of too long years, too young to be so old," is pure Taylor, except that these are Foucault's words.
In that regard, it's hard to equate Foucault's, with the thoughts of a tender twenty-five year old. I guess some of us take less time to unravel this mystery that we live. On the strength of the material here, I have no doubts as to whether Foucault, born in January 1976, has unravelled the mystery. Other examples of thoughtful lyrics on this fourteen song collection - "it's a downhill road, it's an uphill fight" ('Buckshoot Moon', complete with atmospheric log fire cracking in the background), "and every fountain of my youth, is just a well gone dry" ('Sunrise In The Rearview') and "I build walls and just to climb them, climb them just so you can help me down" ('The Battle Hymn of The College Dropout Farmhand') - only further compound my conclusion. 
It doesn't matter whether it takes Foucault less than three minutes, or more than six, to deliver the complete picture - there are examples of both here - he holds you transfixed. For that lighter touch, a vein of wry humour runs through "Secretariat," while the closing, three minute title cut - not surprisingly - bears the subtitle "A Song for Townes Van Zandt."
There are many, many songwriters in this world, but there are few true song poets. Foucault hails from the latter college. Having listened to writers raised with a southern perspective, he has adopted their approach and, in the process, created material that bears tangible northern exposure. Long may his tall ship sail upon bountiful waters....... 

£12.99