Music x Art - Pretense = Jon Foreman

I first heard Jon Foreman's music in the late '90s, when he was the lead singer and songwriter in the band Switchfoot. His thoughtful lyrics and mellow rock sound were the right kind of up-tempo, inspiring tunes to soothe my late-high-school/early-college angst. In recent years, he has branched out into some truly ambitious territory as a solo artist. After releasing a series of four EPs between 2007 and 2008 that were each inspired by one of the seasons, his latest work is another four-EP collection with a grand scope and universal themes.

The project, collectively titled "The Wonderlands," encompasses 24 songs, one for each hour of the day. Each of the four albums will have six songs devoted to the titular window of time. "Sunlight" was released in May, and "Shadows" was just released last week. ("Darkness" is due in September, and "Dawn" follows in October.) On his website, Foreman invites us -- as listeners of music and as fellow humans -- to travel with him on this journey that we have all shared in our own ways. Each track was a collaboration with a different producer, so the amount of cohesion within each EP has been surprising and impressive. Even more impressive is Foreman's ability not to come off as self-aggrandizing or trying too hard; the behind-the-scenes effort in producing this caliber of project is obvious without being overbearing.

As the first album in the collection, "Sunlight" builds slowly, as if kicking off the daily routines that we all go through, before establishing itself as a fitting mission statement for the project's pending scale and status as an opus. It's not the kind of pop-rock whose insistent beats force you awake during your commute. Instead, "Sunlight" plays out with the ease of a well-paced morning after a good rest.

Foreman opens the first track, "Terminal," with a startling lyric: "The doctor says I'm dying." But fear not; his description of death here is a metaphor about the challenges and failures that await us when we allow ourselves to be "fatally flawed" by not approaching each day with the right attitudes. On "The Mountain," he faces figurative obstacles, but the song evokes the serene calm and peace after climbing and crossing an actual mountain when taking in the view from the top and the light from the other side.

As an ode to naturally-unfolding love with a swelling verse and a soaring chorus, "You Don't Know How Beautiful You Are" shows Foreman writing about tried-and-true topics with the precision of a veteran musician and without dipping into youthful cliches. The folksy charm and harmonica playing in "Caroline" are a slight departure musically but certainly not thematically. "Patron Saint of Rock and Roll" cleverly laments that such a saint doesn't exist while pointedly calling out the good ol' boys who would judge or deride Foreman's calling as a musician. Closing track "All Of God's Children," which seeks the best in others, drives home Foreman's inspirational side and reminds us that if nothing else, at least we all have music in common.

"Shadows," the more recent release, is definitely an album that reminds you of those relaxing activities when you start settling in for the evening -- leisurely but no less profound. This group of songs is the sonic equivalent of a nice dinner and conversation with friends, kicking back with a good book and a glass of wine, or curling up and lighting a fire (weather permitting, of course).

On "Ghost Machine," Foreman sings with a bluesy, soulful rasp that's absent from his other music, and it's a worthy experiment. Don't let the title of "My Coffin" fool you; it's a breezy, introspective tune that dovetails nicely into "Fake Your Own Death," a standout in an already solid set of songs. "Fake" touches on mortality in the wake of our sense of individual purpose in life, which clearly weighs on Foreman now that he's older. The ebb and flow of the music, punctuated by lonely horns and spare drum riffs, combines with echo effects to invigorate this bold, haunting track.

"Good For Me" poses hard questions about the people and things in our lives without being preachy, while "Your Love Is Enough" is closer in tone and message to his work with Switchfoot. Whether he's talking to another person or to God, "Enough" is a gentle, poignant reminder to keep it simple amid life's chaos. Foreman ends this EP with "Siren's Song," alluding to the mythic beings that are synonymous with distraction and temptation. The contrast of his rocker croon with the hushed backing vocals is an effective way to close the album. With this track, we are beckoned to look harder and listen closer -- both to what's going on in our own lives and to what he has up his sleeve next.

I'm curious to see how fully Foreman's vision will be realized by the time "Dawn" is released. As it stands, this single day that he is musically illustrating is a puzzle that's halfway finished. Its existing pieces fit together beautifully, while its remaining pieces are shaping up to become a one-of-a-kind masterwork. When all four of these albums are finally available, who's up for sitting down and having a consecutive listening party? (You probably can't see it, but I'm raising my hand emphatically. Pick me!) In actual time, only about two hours would pass, but Foreman's uncanny ability to convey so much with so little will keep his fans and the public listening for years to come.