Fare Forward Voyagers (Soldier's Choice)
by John Fahey

Review
**Fare Forward Voyagers (Soldier's Choice): A Haunting Swan Song**
By the time John Fahey released "Fare Forward Voyagers (Soldier's Choice)" in 1973, the American primitive guitar pioneer was already beginning his slow descent into the personal and artistic wilderness that would define much of his later career. What makes this album so compelling—and heartbreaking—is that it captures Fahey at a crucial crossroads, still in possession of his formidable technical abilities but increasingly haunted by the demons that would eventually consume him. Today, the album stands as both a creative high-water mark and a prophetic glimpse into the darkness ahead.
The title itself, borrowed from T.S. Eliot's "Four Quartets," hints at the album's elegiac mood and Fahey's growing preoccupation with mortality and spiritual seeking. This wasn't the playful ragtime revivalist of his early Takoma Records releases, nor was it quite the experimental noise-maker he would become in his final decades. Instead, "Fare Forward Voyagers" presents Fahey as a mature artist grappling with weighty themes while still grounded in the fingerpicking traditions that made his reputation.
Musically, the album finds Fahey expanding his palette beyond the strict confines of American primitive guitar. While his signature steel-string acoustic remains the primary voice, there are subtle orchestral flourishes and a broader harmonic vocabulary that suggests his growing interest in classical composition. The influence of his studies with avant-garde composer Salvatore Martirano becomes apparent in the album's more adventurous moments, though Fahey never abandons the folk and blues foundations that anchor his work.
The album's centerpiece, "Fare Forward Voyagers," is a sprawling 13-minute meditation that ranks among Fahey's finest achievements. Built around a hypnotic fingerpicked pattern, the piece gradually accumulates layers of meaning and musical complexity, moving from pastoral beauty to something approaching spiritual transcendence. It's Fahey at his most ambitious, creating what amounts to a guitar symphony that anticipates the minimalist composers who would emerge later in the decade.
"Red Cross, Disciple of Christ Today" showcases another side of Fahey's artistry, combining his interest in early American religious music with his own increasingly complex harmonic sensibilities. The piece manages to be both reverent and slightly unsettling, much like Fahey himself during this period. Meanwhile, "Steamboat Gwine 'Round De Bend" offers a more traditional showcase for his fingerpicking virtuosity, though even here there's an underlying melancholy that distinguishes it from his earlier, more purely celebratory work.
Perhaps most prophetic is "Lion," a piece that seems to anticipate the more experimental territory Fahey would explore in his later years. Its dissonant passages and unconventional structures hint at the artist's growing restlessness with traditional forms, even as his technique remained impeccable.
The album emerged from a particularly fertile period in Fahey's career, following his acclaimed "Of Rivers and Religion" and preceding his brief flirtation with commercial success. He was still riding high on critical acclaim and had achieved a level of financial stability rare for such an uncompromising artist. Yet the seeds of his later troubles were already apparent to those who knew him well. His drinking was becoming problematic, and his relationships were increasingly strained by his mercurial personality and growing paranoia.
What makes "Fare Forward Voyagers" so essential is how it captures Fahey at the peak of his powers while simultaneously documenting his growing spiritual and emotional turmoil. The album's mix of technical brilliance and psychological complexity would prove influential on everyone from Leo Kottke to more recent practitioners like Jack Rose and Glenn Jones.
In the context of Fahey's larger discography, "Fare Forward Voyagers" represents both an ending and a beginning. It's the last album where his American primitive approach feels entirely natural and unforced, before his later experiments pushed him into more challenging territory. Yet it also points toward the more adventurous work that would follow, establishing him as more than just a gifted interpreter of traditional forms.
Today, "Fare Forward Voyagers (Soldier's Choice)" stands as perhaps Fahey's most emotionally complex statement, a work that rewards repeated listening while never fully revealing its secrets. It's an album that grows more impressive with age, much like the man who created it—difficult, brilliant, and ultimately irreplaceable.
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