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\n\tFor 27 years, Foy Vance<\/a> has been processing profound grief through profound songwriting. Friday\u2019s release of The Wake<\/em>, his seventh studio album, is the last step in that process.<\/p>\n \n\tIn January 1999, while playing a residency on Lanzarote, a Spanish island off the coast of Morocco, Vance awoke to the news that his father, a traveling preacher, had suffered a fatal heart attack the night before. As it turned out, Vance had actually been onstage when his father died. In the despair that followed, Vance resolved to write and record seven albums, each informed by his father\u2019s life and the lessons Vance applied to his music.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cThe commitment on that day was to only work with songs that help me grow in some way, or did something for me, or felt real in some way,\u201d Vance tells Rolling Stone<\/em>. \u201cOtherwise, you\u2019re just kind of rhyming stuff. That takes time. You have to live for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tLiving, for the Northern Ireland-born Vance, in the time since his father\u2019s passing has meant connecting with music, with a dedicated group of fans who regularly seek comfort in Vance\u2019s lyrics and melodies, or with himself.<\/p>\n \n\tAs he sees it, music is the thread between the universe we inhabit and a parallel, spiritual universe that surrounds us, even if we never actually see it or feel it.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cIf society ceased to exist tomorrow,\u201d Vance says, \u201cand money means nothing and there are no jobs to go to, no internet, nothing to communicate, you and I could still sit around a fire and sing \u2018The Times They Are A-Changin\u2019 by Bob Dylan<\/a>, and have one of the most profound experiences of our lives. That\u2019s what music is. That\u2019s what it\u2019s capable of.\u201d<\/p>\n