Singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Stephen Foster may describe his album Sharing Perils as a passion project, but this thirteen-track record is sure to resonate with far more weight than a spare-time endeavor. Released quietly back in January 2022, the LP makes deliberate space for stillness, where one can sensitively explore themes of grief, regret and flickers of cautious optimism in ways that feel both expansive and intimate. It was also recorded with producer and engineer Henry Chadwick in the Santa Cruz Mountains over a series of sessions that balanced spontaneity and patience. Much of this album’s magic comes through in the layering of unusual textures, from music boxes to reversed chimes to trumpet flourishes, which enhance the purposefully sparse arrangements. It’s tender, melancholic and unexpectedly spacious. Reminiscent of artists like Elliott Smith, The Innocence Mission and Ennio Morricone, this collection of tracks move through memory and emotion, inviting listeners to reflect on their own circumstances. With more new music on the horizon and a gradual return to live performance, Stephen Foster guides us through Sharing Perils and the journey that shaped it.
You’ve just released your new album, Sharing Perils, which makes precious space for stillness. What was your vision going into the writing and recording of this album?
Thank you! I actually released this back in January 2022 but never put much effort into promoting it… just a few posts and sharing with friends. At the time, I saw it as a personal passion project: something to do for myself. It was my first time recording in a proper studio (shoutout to Henry Chadwick [Henry’s Linktree]) and Compound Recording in Ben Lomond, CA (Compound Recordings), and the experience felt like a gift. My wife, Elisabeth, and my brother, Mark, encouraged me to share the album more widely instead of keeping it just for home listening.
Looking back, I think there was a deeper, subconscious vision at play: I was trying to exorcise some demons. Music has always been the way I process things. I came in with a mix of finished songs, rough sketches, and barely-there ideas – but they all felt connected somehow and packaging them together as a cohesive whole felt right. I was nervous at first, but Henry put me at ease immediately. He’s a fantastic human, songwriter, musician, recording engineer… and the studio – tucked in the Santa Cruz Mountains – had this peaceful, scenic energy that shaped the sessions in quiet, profound ways.
How do you decide whether a song needs a full-band arrangement or should remain stripped down with just guitar and voice?
Some songs come out nearly finished – like “George Bailey’s Honeymoon” – while others start as fragments. I usually follow the energy of the song: if it feels intimate or sparse from the outset, I lean into that. If I find myself strumming something that wants rhythm and drive, I imagine drums or full-band textures. Instrumental ideas often start as melodies I sing into my phone, and those tend to demand fuller arrangements from the beginning. I never know what’s going to happen, and that’s what’s so much fun!
Can you talk about how influences like Elliott Smith, The Innocence Mission and Ennio Morricone show up in the record?
I’m so grateful I got to see Elliott Smith live several times before his tragic passing. I never consciously tried to emulate him – frankly, that’s impossible – but when I started sharing demos, a few people said my songs reminded them of his. I think his songwriting just seeped into my musical brain over time.
The Innocence Mission (especially Befriended) has always hit that rainy-day melancholy I’m drawn to. Their restraint and emotional clarity really resonate with me. As for Morricone, I’ve long loved his spaghetti western scores and more understated work, like the phenomenal Malena soundtrack. His music shaped how I think about space, atmosphere, and instrumental storytelling.
How does that training in classic trumpet inform the way you compose or arrange your music today?
Trumpet was my first instrument; I started in fourth grade and played it obsessively for years. I used to improvise over Kind of Blue with a cassette that muted Miles’s trumpet, thanks to a clever teacher. Later, I’d play along with Morricone scores on TV, which deepened my love for cinematic and emotionally rich music. That early training definitely shaped how I approach instrumental textures, even if I don’t play trumpet much these days. And I have to thank my parents, who were supportive from day one when they saw how much I loved music. I wouldn’t be playing music or writing songs if it weren’t for them.
As well as trumpet, there’s other unexpected elements like chimes and music boxes, so what inspired this unique amalgamation of instruments?
As the songs neared completion, I began hearing room for unusual sounds: things like wind chimes (recorded in my front yard on iPhone), a spooky music box, or glockenspiel. Henry and I played with layering reversed versions of those recordings to create dreamlike textures, like the overlapping chimes in the “Chimes” intro and outro, and at the start of “In the Sea,” or the reversed music box at the end of “The Light.” Some ideas came from me; others came from the spontaneous vibe in the studio. We were just having fun with the atmosphere.
Are there any particular themes or stories that connect the tracks on Sharing Perils?
Grief, loss, regret, and an underlying thread of pessimism, tempered by a strange, almost involuntary optimism. Some tracks feel cinematic or memory-soaked rather than explicitly narrative, but they still fit emotionally. The record feels like it’s looking both inward and backward, even when there are no lyrics doing the telling.
Which song on the album feels most personal to you, and why?
Probably “The Passing Shadow.” I was writing from a very specific emotional place, though the lyrics are actually unintentionally cryptic. They just spilled out and felt right – I didn’t understand them right away. They’ve taken on different meanings for me over the last couple of years – almost like a mirror that keeps changing. That shifting nature feels deeply personal in itself.
As your first full-length solo album, what did you learn in making it that you’ll take with you into future projects?
I learned that recording in a studio doesn’t have to be intimidating – it can be affordable, fun, and incredibly rewarding. Working with a great musician/engineer like Henry (who now runs the magnificent Washateria Recordings in Portland, OR) and a great mastering engineer like Cian Riordan, opened up the process and introduced me to sounds and gear that wouldn’t have occurred to me on my own. I also learned the value of patience. A few songs I thought were “done” revealed new layers after I gave them space between sessions. “Desolate Cities” and “Después de la Inundación” both benefited from that breathing room.
What’s next on the horizon for you?
I released a follow-up EP (Sun to Rise) in September 2023, and I’m starting to write new material now. I used to play in a band and gig regularly, but stepping into the solo world has been a little slower. I’m easing my way into the local scene, playing a few shows, and figuring out what’s next.
You can also listen to album track ‘Desolate Cities’ in our Outsiders Club playlist.
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