Weekend Song - Jeffrey Foucault
Jeffrey Foucault has this great honest voice that never tries but always nails it.
That kind of contradiction is great for this song because it does all that without barely lifting a finger. Plus it’s about cowboys and indians, but not in a cheesy way and it sounds like a campfire lullaby.
I listen to this and I see NC Wyeth paintings of a stagecoaches and crouching scouts, Ansel Adams lithographs superimposed on family trees and sepia faces above rows of medals.
All the tramps and churchbell tollers,
harlequins and holy rollers
lay their nickel down to raise the dead.
With a tune sung low and wistful
and a pearl handled pistol
and a mirror hung up above the bed.