Ruthie Foster has a slight confession: She cleaned her house this morning, a few hours before her housekeeper is due to arrive. “I’m empathetic to people who work just to try and make it,” Foster says. It’s that deeply rooted empathy, forged by Foster’s own life experiences, which informs much of Healing Time—the latest album in the blues and gospel singer’s Grammy-nominated, award-winning, 25-year career.
Foster grew up in the small Texas town of Gause, a two-hour drive northeast of Austin, often helping her mother clean houses to make ends meet. She attended college in Waco, Texas, then enlisted in the Navy, broadening her world view. After her stint in the service, Foster moved to New York City, becoming a frequent presence on the local folk-club circuit and drawing the ears of record labels.
In 1993, Foster abruptly stepped away from her rising potential, returning to Texas in order to care for her ailing mother. She took a job as a camera operator at a local television station until an offer to sub for a singer at a Sunday brunch performance brought her to Austin. Soon after, she started performing in The Live Music Capital of the World every weekend, sleeping on friends’ couches until she scored a place of her own. And, before too long, Foster’s name became synonymous with her new hometown’s artistic community.
She released her debut LP, Full Circle, in 1997 and Crossover in 1999, then signed with Blue Corn Music for her subsequent 12 albums, including her most recent. In between, Foster garnered three Grammy nominations and a dozen Blues Music Award nods, including seven wins as Traditional Blues Female Artist of the Year. This past November, she was the sixth artist honored with a star outside of Austin’s famed Paramount Theatre.
“Yeah, how about that?” Foster says. “I spent many a night standing on those stars, waiting to get in to see other people play.”
Foster knows the blues isn’t about personal recognition, just as she acknowledges that gospel isn’t about awards. She’s an advocate for change and a steward of tradition, a gifted and perceptive messenger for those in pain—even herself.
“I’m closer to the blues than I am to anything else—every kind of blues,” says Foster, whose live performances include nods to genre pioneers Son House and Mississippi John Hurt. “The blues is a witness to what goes on in people’s lives—and definitely in my own life.”
In her own life, Foster has experienced plenty of pain in recent years. Her drummer since 2001, Samantha Banks, passed away in 2018 after suffering a stroke. It was a devastating loss for Foster and for a band she considers her family. Then, less than two years later, the COVID-19 pandemic hit.
Like the rest of the world, Foster was stranded at home with her feelings. Banks’ death weighed heavily on her. To start the healing, she continued to write, reworking some earlier material and devoting time to her poetry—staying open to however and wherever the muse appeared. She also decided to do something on her next record that she’d never done before—work with her own band.
“Doing a project that involved my band family, that’s something that needed to happen,” Foster says.
Foster recruited past collaborators Gary Nicholson and Grace Pettis to join in the writing. Veteran producer Mark Howard sat at the helm for their initial recordings at Studio71West in Austin, as well as some follow-up sessions at New Orleans’ venerated Esplanade Studios. She followed that with additional sessions in Austin alongside producer Dan Barrett at Electric Deluxe, the space operated by Black Pumas’ Adrian Quesada. In addition to several Black Pumas members, the album boasts two notable guests—slide guitar icon Sonny Landreth sits in on “Finish Line,” while pedal-steel master Robert Randolph joins for the title cut.
During the shutdown, Foster rekindled her love of cooking and spent time with her vinyl collection, spinning favorites by Carmen McRae and Ann Peebles as she prepped her meals. “There’s something about the continuity of albums that really struck me,” Foster says. “And that’s missing in a lot of today’s music.”
True to classic form, Healing Time is a set of songs with a distinct through-line; its introspective first-half details the perceptions and deceptions of life and love. The title track is a hinge, slotted at the record’s midpoint, while the secondside narrative is more spiritual, offering a mix of empathy and answers. Foster firmly believes that bridge between secular and spiritual emotions is an essential component; she has taken to performing the album in sequence at her recent shows, likening the concert finale “Freedom” to the benediction of a Sunday sermon.
Though raised Baptist, Foster’s current idea of spirituality is far broader. She wants people to find faith in themselves more than in any entity. “I think that’s why I’m in music—to help people find their own narrative,” Foster says. “If you’re not hurting people and you’re being good to yourself, I’m all for it.”
During her New York days, Foster absorbed valuable lessons from folk singer Pete Seeger. She also enjoyed inspiring talks with singer and civil rights activist Odetta. She believes in the necessity of an artist to stand up for anyone hurting—whether personally, socially or spiritually—and hopes that message is clear on Healing Time.
“I’ve served my country proudly. I pay taxes. I work hard to live in this house to keep my child in a decent school,” Foster says. “I’m a part of this Austin community. I have a voice. I have a say and, damn straight, I’m going to say something if people aren’t acting right.