The story of the Go Betweens concluded with the passing of Grant McLennan in May 2005. The miracle was that Robert Forster managed to imbue his latest album with the melodies and poetic turns-of-phrase so integral to signature McLennan tunes, to the extent that I could just about hear his quiet, distinctive voice. And yet, the sense of loss is indelibly stamped on the album and impossible to ignore. It is a special album; the songs are elegantly tuneful in the best tradition of the Go Betweens: pristine, expertly crafted -- the complexities coming at an emotional level.

In a published remembrance ("The True Hipster -- Remembering Grant McLennan," The Monthly, July 2006, No. 14), Forster recalls that the Go Betweens' "Album number ten was going to be something special" and that they "...were on the cusp of something." It wasn't to be, but the core of a great batch of new songs was. According to Forster, McLennan had been writing new songs, two of which were "amazing" and one of those, "Demon Days," equal to his best work.

It's unclear exactly how much of the music on The Evangelist was co-written but three of the songs contain lyrics credited to McLennan. Of these, "Demon Days" really is vintage McLennan (with finishing touches by Foster necessary to bring it into being). It's as fine a song as either of them has created -- eliciting a sense of sadness, of moments passed where nothing could be held on to, slipping through fingers like sand. The song avoids becoming morose and is buoyed by a memorable, dreamy melodicism:

"The half whispered hopes
The dreams that we smoked
Puffed up and ran
As only dreams can."

Arguably the most obviously biographical of the songs relating to his old friend, are Forster's "It Ain't Easy" (with chorus contributed by McLennan) and "From Ghost Town," the former revealing something of McLennan, the romantic dreamer as well as inspirational friend and motivator:

"And a river ran and a train ran and a dream ran through everything that he did,
He picked me up when I might have slipped and not done a thing."

The personal and moving "From Ghost Town" speaks with a powerful empathy of McLennan's inexorable melancholy and the loneliness that dogged him:

"There are places he could have stayed. But he had to go because he loved the rain
There were hearts there was help.
But he couldn't love them because he didn't love himself,
It's gone, yes yes yes its wrong and why should this be so."

But Forster knows it's time to move on and so he does. This is Forster as we've not seen him before -- candid, devoid of role-playing. In the title song, "The Evangelist," he takes ownership for having brought his wife from her home in the German countryside, into a suburban desert, foreign and fraught with danger -- but reaffirms his love and belief in the "us" and offers her an escape, whenever she feels the need. It's another pretty tune and, like most of the songs on the album, of uncommon weight and substance.

Of the more upbeat songs, "Pandanus" stands out, lighting up and firing on all (four) cylinders, creating the effortless sort of euphoria that a classic Go Betweens tune can -- as does "Let Your Light In, Babe" which alludes to an opportunity grasped. The song hearkens back to "Lily, Rosemary & the Jack of Hearts" from Dylan's Blood on the Tracks in its quick country tempo and narrative styling. These songs are an antidote for the sadness -- optimistic and vibrant. Musically, "Don't Touch Anything" also hints strongly at Dylan, this time echoing the viscous organ and warm, full-band sound of Blonde on Blonde.

So the Go Betweens may have been on the cusp of something great and unfortunately Robert Forster has had to go at it alone, without his long-time collaborator, yet I can't help but feel that Grant McLennan would have been immensely proud. It's Forster's best solo recording by miles.

The Evangelist is an album I find myself wanting to hear often, its words and melodies lingering long after the songs have ceased playing.

"It was one day at five thirty -- I went down to the beach,
The afternoon was dying -- there was purple at its feet.
I love the shades of nightfall -- the faded blues and greys,
The silver on the water -- seems to push so many things away, all away.
The candle of the day has burnt down to wick,
The candle of the night has not yet been lit.
One hour and five minutes -- that's all I ever need
To take the faith from the mothership.
See the glory god this is what I need, what I need,
One hour in that air -- some gentle people there.
Nothing's going to get you or bring you down,
The sun has gone and it's taken your troubles somewhere, somewhere."

("Pandanus" by Robert Forster)