Robert Forster was always the darker, more literary Go-Between, the Lennon to Grant McLennan’s McCartney, as was often noted during their three-decade partnership. The Evangelist (Yep Roc) is Forster’s first album since McLennan’s untimely death in May 2006, and while it continues in the vein of previous Forster solo releases (the last one being 1996’s Edwyn Collins-produced Warm Nights), it is also a ghostly Go-Betweens album. Bassist Adele Pickvance and drummer Glenn Thompson of the final incarnation of the G-Bs join Forster, and Audrey Riley provides string arrangements, as she did way back on 1986’s Liberty Belle & The Black Diamond Express. And Forster finishes three songs that McLennan had written before his passing. It adds up to collection of haunted and haunting songs, from the understated, mandolin-driven “Let Your Light In, Babe” to the strummy, talky title track to the jangly and catchy “Pandanus.”
Forster spoke to MAGNET in New York City at the Hi-Fi bar on Avenue A, which he called “Go-Betweens Headquarters” because of the band’s songs on the jukebox and memorabilia on the walls.
What prompted you to record again?
I always knew I was going to make an album, and after Grant’s passing I was shocked and numb and trying to come to terms with things and trying to think straight, which was difficult. But I knew that I was going to record, if only to bring into the world some of the songs that Grant was writing the last two years of his life. Grant died in May, and I just sort of rode out the year in a way. I was doing some music journalism and I was working on songs, and just sort of keeping to myself. Then I started to go over to Adele’s house, which is only about 10 or 15 minutes away from me [in Brisbane, Australia]. It was very low pressure, just going over there on Fridays, sitting in her kitchen and playing and drinking coffee. Over about two months, we decided to do a demo and just put down what I’d shown her.
What’s the genesis of the songs written with Grant on the album?
There are three of them. One is called “Demon Days,” another is “Let Your Light In, Babe,” and the third one is “It Ain’t Easy.” When Grant died in May 2006, we’d started the preparation for a Go-Betweens record. We were not going to record for a year, but I’d started to go over to his place, and we’d had five or six practices. We had about eight songs: two of mine, which were “Pandanus” and “Did She Overtake You?” and we had about six of his. On the last couple Go-Betweens records, he was writing lyrics just when we demoed an album or in the studio. Most of his songs, he had the whole structure and the chorus worked out, but he didn’t have many lyrics. Basically, I took three of the songs and completed them. One song, “Demon Days,” he had the first five lines written, but the rest of them didn’t have verse lyrics. I took three that I thought that I could sing and finished them.
Did Grant’s passing cause you to think differently about writing this album?
No, I don’t think so. I think because everything was so different after Grant’s passing, I didn’t have to worry about or think too much about differences. It was all there around me and within me. All I had to do is keep on writing, and somehow it would seep into what I do.
Some of your songs seem like they could use footnotes; they have allusions in them, such as to the Italian town Mondaino in “A Place To Hide Away” or to Dostoevsky on the last Go-Betweens record.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Sometimes I think [footnoting is] almost needed and I’d like it, but I also worry that I’m too obscure or obtuse. But I think it’s all fairly grounded, what I write. Things that sound unbelievable or made-up in my songs often come from things happening around me.
“The Evangelist” reminds me of The Poisonwood Bible, the novel about a crazy missionary who takes his family to Africa.
Do you know the book The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux? I read it after writing the song but I always knew the story was about it. It’s a similar story. It’s about a crazy, charismatic messiah-type father who takes his wife and children into the jungle. It’s a horrible story; there’s a film made about it. This is one song on the record where you probably need footnotes. It comes down to my definition of an evangelist, which is taking a family or a tribe over a hill to a promised land. The way it works back to me is that I took my family back to Australia in 2001. My wife is German, and I have two children who were both born in Germany. I took them to Australia so that I could reconnect with Grant and put the push into the Go-Betweens, and it was a little bit like that: Life will be easier there and we’ll hopefully make more money and it’ll be great for the children. That’s what the song is about, but it’s connected to me with the idea of an evangelist. It’s a loose definition of an evangelist. They have to be very convincing and self-assured, and if they do have doubts, they have to hide them. It’s all done on blind faith.
“Don’t Touch Anything” seems rather cryptic, with its chorus of “Don’t get involved, just let it burn or ring/Wait until the man comes, and don’t touch anything.” How do the pieces fit together in that song?
It comes from my father, when I was growing up and television sets would come into our house, or anything involving electricity. If anything broke, my father would yell, “Don’t touch anything!” It resonated with me as an attitude beyond the television. It also had the attitude of something precious. This is an old song, one I’d written about 10 years ago. It’s a song I’d always loved, but it never found a place on the last three Go-Betweens albums. But when Grant played me “Demon Days,” it seemed to come together.
—Steve Klinge
