Will Foulke arrives this September with a gift that feels timeless: Charleston Blues, a record that already promises to soundtrack our days and our nights. From the very first notes of the intro we are intrigued, guided towards his ride—an intimate journey between country folk landscapes and melodies that sway like lanterns in the dark.
There is no need to worry anymore, no shadows too heavy, when Dropped Out rolls through the speakers. Its rhythm is unhurried, its sunlight soft yet certain, giving permission to breathe. The songs move like rivers—solar in essence, yet touched with that sweet, necessary melancholy. They shine in the generosity of guitars, in piano lines that linger, in ryhthms that circle the heart. And always, there is Foulke’s voice: familiar, magnetic, tender, a voice that restores something we thought we had lost.
Charleston Blues stands among our favorites already, with its languid guitars, its sensual bluesy pulse, its unmistakable signature. By the time we reach Ran Away, we know this album is an homage to tradition, to authenticity, to music crafted with hands and soul, far beyond the reach of empty machines.
