How a Santa Cruz songwriter finds volume in whispers on “Sharing Perils” and “Sun to Rise”
Stephen Foster writes songs like correspondence discovered in a forgotten drawer, worn with memory, quiet with meaning.
The Santa Cruz-based artist specialises in emotional restraint and melancholy that somehow transforms into a strange, lingering hope.
His 2022 full-length “Sharing Perils” and 2023 EP “Sun to Rise” represent two sides of the same artistic coin: one expansive and varied, the other concentrated and intimate, both united by Foster’s exceptional gift for crafting songs that don’t demand attention so much as invite stillness.
“Sharing Perils” unfolds as a windswept western landscape of sound, weaving together acoustic intimacy and a remarkably wide emotional palette.
Recorded partially at home and partially at Compound Recordings with producer Henry Chadwick, the album moves seamlessly between full-band compositions that pulse with restless energy and stripped-down reflections that whisper with just voice and guitar.
Trumpets, chimes, music boxes, and glockenspiels create unexpected textures throughout, flickers of light against slow-burning sadness.
Tracks like the contemplative ‘The Passing Shadow’ demonstrate Foster’s gift for earnest expression and evocative storytelling, while instrumental pieces showcase his cinematic sensibility.
The album feels like a collection of short stories, each complete yet connected by a shared atmosphere of emotional gravity.
In contrast, “Sun to Rise” operates as a concentrated dose of Foster’s artistic essence, the emotional equivalent of watching dawn break after a sleepless night.
Recorded entirely at Compound Recordings in mid-2023, the EP ranges from warm, full-band shimmer to stripped-down, late-night reflection.
The title track embodies what might be called “optimistic melancholy,” the sonic version of watching the sun rise while realising you’re still awake for the wrong reasons.
But the most remarkable moment comes with Foster’s haunting reinterpretation of “Chim Chim Cher-ee,” which transforms the childhood classic into something shadowed and strange.
Stripped of its original whimsy, the familiar melody becomes fragile and faintly haunted in Foster’s hands, his vocal delivery recalling Elliott Smith’s intimate vulnerability.
What unites both releases is Foster’s singular ability to find volume in whispers and power in patience.
His work stretches beyond quiet moments to encompass restless energy, slow-burning sadness, and dreamlike unease, all unified not by style but by feeling.
These are albums for listeners who understand that stillness can be just as compelling as sound, and that sometimes the most profound statements are made not by shouting, but by speaking just softly enough to make others lean in to listen.
You can check ’em out on Bandcamp!
