Anglo/Irish singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist songbird Lewis Barfoot vents her sadness and anger at some ‘venerable’ Irish institutions on Home, her second album.
Release Date: 17th November 2023
Label: Self Release
Formats: CD / Digital
She sings like an angel, she plays like an inspired Orpheus, and her lyrics are as uncompromising as reinforced concrete. Yes, Lewis Barfoot is back – with Home, her new album – and she’s got a lot to say about how the Irish institutions of church and social services (the two have never been completely detached from each other) and baked-in male privilege affected her family and shaped the person she became. And, as this is Lewis Barfoot that we’re talking about, her messages are all wrapped in some of the sweetest, most ethereal music, masterfully played by a small band of top-notch musicians, that you’re likely to hear for many-a-month.
It seems a long time since we last featured the music of Lewis Barfoot within these pages; in fact, it’s almost exactly two years, since we were charmed by Lewis’s debut album, Glenaphuca, and astounded by her musicianship, her ability to write songs that stop you dead in your tracks and, most particularly, by her angelic voice. If you’ve already had the pleasure of hearing Lewis Barfoot, you won’t be surprised to learn that her songwriting and her musical and vocal stylings have attracted comparisons to the likes of Kate Rusby, Sandy Denny, Máire Brennan and Julie Fowlis.
Lewis was born in Walthamstow, London, to an Irish mother and an English father and, since 2019, she’s been resident in rural County Cork – the home territory of her mother’s family. And, it’s the rediscovery of those antecedents and the strife suffered by Lewis’s forebears that provide the inspiration for much of the material on Home. I should warn you here that, if you have any strong relationships with the catholic church in Ireland or with any of the church’s associated institutions, then Home will not be comfortable listening; but, perhaps, if you do have any such relationships, it’s even more important that you hear what Lewis has to say.
Home was recorded at Wavefield Studios in Cork and Lewis selected her supporting musicians wisely. Elisabeth Flett returns (she also featured on Glenaphuca) to contribute more of her delightful violin, Gabriel Buffa chips in with some wonderful clarinet and bass clarinet, Lea Miklódy contributes cello, Davie Ryan’s percussion is subtle yet solid, Michael Riordan’s double bass provides a delicate foundation and Jordi Sanchez Campanario’s ukelele adds the tasty sprinkles that complete the sound.
It’s the album’s title track that gets Home underway and it’s a wonderfully warm and comforting opening track. It’s a ballad, inspired by the stillness of winter and by the peace and solitude that Lewis experienced during lockdown. In a gentle start, Lewis’s fingerpicked guitar is complemented by a soft, timely chime, introducing our first taste of THAT voice. Michael’s bass is understated yet highly effective, Elisabeth’s violin is wonderful and Lewis’s vocal harmonies are delicious. And – the coda of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a lovely touch!
In the 1940s, Lewis’s grandfather and the local priest conspired to incarcerate Lewis’s grandmother, Bridget, in a Cork asylum – for the crime of having given birth to nine children (I can’t help suspecting that her grandfather was complicit in said crime but we won’t go into that just yet). Lewis sings the traditional The Snows They Melt the Soonest in honour of her grandmother, and it’s a worthy tribute to a mistreated woman. Lewis’s delivery is impeccable, the dreamy harmonies and discrete guitar encourage the listener to focus and, when the strings strike up, they add a true sense of mysticism.
In 2018, the Eighth Amendment of Ireland’s Constitution, the law which prevented Irish women from seeking abortion for any reason, was repealed and, to mark that landmark occasion, and to inspire Irish women to “stand tall, speak their truth, and reclaim the power that has been suppressed under the weight of the state and the church in Ireland,” Lewis wrote the anthemic call to arms, Women of Ireland. Lyrics like “As we honour women before us, all the women silenced in shame. Abuses went undetected, suffering – a middle name” – and more – pull absolutely no punches, yet they’re sweetened by the song’s gentle bossa-nova rhythm, some lovely Gypsy-flavoured violin from Elisabeth and piano parts that seem to have dropped directly from Buena Vista.
Sadness and anger over the travesties committed in Irish society form a central pillar of Home, and Lewis returns to that conspiring grandfather of hers to vent some of that sadness and anger in Grandfather Rogue. The tune and structure of the song were inspired by a chord sequence that Lewis admired in a Michele Shocked song, and Lewis does sound uncannily like a warmed-up Ms Shocked here, particularly when she adds the bluesy edges to her voice. She never met her grandfather, but his deeds – sending his wife to an asylum and packing his nine children off to industrial schools and orphanages, haven’t been forgotten and, in lines like: “He dodged the taxman, pretended he was insane, left his young to fend for themselves, as they cried their way down the lane,” she’s found a way of saying what she would, no doubt, have told him face-to-face, had she had the opportunity. It’s a hard-hitting song, and Gabriel’s clarinet parts are superb.
The anger and sadness are undiminished – in fact, they’re intensified – for the biting For You a Stór. Lewis’s mother grew up in a Cork orphanage and the song is Lewis’s way of providing the comfort and assurance that her mother never received. It’s another song that’s dressed in a deceptively soothing tune, but lines like: “Time to leave this shore, like so many Irish before – in hope of a promised land, away from the church’s hand,” leave the listener in no doubt – Lewis will never shed the pain of her mother’s mistreatment. She can’t keep the anger flowing indefinitely though, and the dreamy Búha, provides, in Lewis’s words, “A grounding, peaceful and harmonious meditation.” It’s a restful tune, picked out by Lewis on her guitar and given colour by a choir of Lewis’s own making.
Lewis describes the ragtime New Boots as “A love song to the child within.” The song oozes optimism, especially when the violin and clarinet cut in, and Lewis’s lyrics: “It’s about leaving behind the past and stepping into a future that is kind and graced with love” demonstrate that, whatever the deprivations suffered by her family, she is still capable of taking a positive view. And that positivity carries forward into the joyful Dublin City Bells. Inspired by the bustle of Dublin’s Temple Bar district after the 2021 lockdown, it’s a bright, vibrant song with a shuffling rhythm, a bubbly bassline and light, airy fiddles.
As we already know, Lewis relocated from London to County Cork back in 2019, and, with the anthemic singalong, Rock Me in the Ocean, she celebrates the rediscovery of her heritage. Offered as a song to “inspire, encourage and empower others,” it’s gentle, it’s mild and it’s impossible not to sway along to the “Rock me in the ocean – I am deep, I am wild” refrain. In fact, it reminds me very much of a Celtic “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” and, when Lewis breaks the swaying and chanting with a raucous guffaw, the whole thing gets decidedly raunchy!
But, as we’ve seen, the silencing and shaming of the feminine by the church in Ireland is the central theme to Home, and Lewis wrote Ancestors, the album’s closing track, to offer hope and encouragement to move on from that dark dominance. Lewis invited choral leader and composer Ben See to arrange her song for a choir and guest vocalists Kerry Andrew (aka You Are Wolf), Sarah Dacey, MaJiker, Ellis Kerkoven, Ben Ó Ruaidh and Justine Grounds were enticed to join Lewis, Ben See and Elisabeth Flett to conclude Home on a high and lyrically powerful note. I truly hope that the message: “I am done with all this shame, at the heart of the church, where the female was to blame for having flesh, and thought she must confess” reaches the right ears. We’ll see.
Lewis Barfoot has done it again. Home is a stunning album.
Watch the official video to Dublin City Bells – a track from the album – here:
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