Pleasant surprises like Building St. Petersburg are what make this job (yeah, right, like it's a job) so rewarding. It's rare to see music and lyrics given the loving, painstakingly thorough crafting that Foreman provides; each of these songs is so carefully written and assembled that reading the lyrics -- and the framing "historical perspectives" included in the accompanying booklet -- is a rich literary experience itself. Foreman fits into the same broad non-genre that holds Tom Waits, and indeed their vocal styles intersect, inasmuch as both sometimes plumb the same sort of "Delta Blues Madman" character to varying degrees (see "Some Kind of Magic" for a prime example). Elsewhere on the disc you'll find workmen's tales (the title track), spoken-word absurdity ("Talking Ballroom Blues"), traditional highwayman histories ("Newry Highwayman") and an idiosyncratic mixture of defiance, love, remorse, wanderlust, mental collapse and ribald eccentricity, teamed with jauntily appropriate folkish melodies. Building St. Petersburg gives little outward evidence of its inner magic and exhilarating eccentricity; it's one of those discs that you might look at, briefly, but not take the time to get to know. We've all made those decisions, and this disc is a prime example of the delights you miss on the road not taken.