Among other things, ‘fō has been a scientist, a soldier, a sheriff’s deputy and a murder victim. But from the beginning of his career as a successful television actor, his most consistent role is also the one he’s told almost nobody about. For twelve years, ‘fō (Josh Cooke) has honed a musical style rife with odd tunings, idiosyncratic structures, and a cinematic palette. The ten songs on his debut have been hewn with painstaking rigor, resulting in an album full of beautiful contradictions, like an eerie haven in an unknown yet somehow recognizable world. At first blush, it’s easy to be swept along by ‘fō’s unique stylings and a voice that’s like bourbon on sandpaper. But on reexamination, one discovers complex lyrical dispatches that dovetail with his distinctive musical approach. The characters in his songs often dole out bad or contradictory advice, and lyrics that may seem innocent ultimately reveal narrators that can be altogether unreliable. There is a vastness to the stories being told here, a spooky soundscape that grows ever more enveloping with each listen. Though it might seem strange for someone who has made a career out of being eminently visible, ‘fō has thus far skirted live performance. Yet — slowly but surely— he is now venturing out to play the music from his debut. If you ask, ‘fō might brush off the unanimously enthusiastic reception he’s received thus far as the politeness of strangers, or a fluke. But anyone who’s really listening will understand that his self-assessment is as unreliable as the characters in his music.