Northeast Indiana's Nod Arvefel (Don Lefevra for those without a mirror handy) admits he no longer dreams of being a rock star. He points to 38 years of factory labor and the humility he's gained in finding Christ for giving up that aspiration. However, spandex's loss is our gain, as Arvefel has been busy churning out homespun albums that combine wry observation and storytelling with a deep, abiding faith.
Joe Factory is a testament to Arvefel's work ethic and love of song. The title track is quintessential Lefevra, a gentle but jaunty tune that takes us along on Joe Factory's typical workday – starting, of course, with an epic race to clock in on time. We get a tour of the factory floor, complete with old-timers, bells, whistles and insufferable superiors ("I wonder what it's like to know it all," Arvefel marvels). Throw in some goofy sound effects and you've got a tune full of insight, humor and empathy.
"Fallen Angel" is sad and soft, with a definite tip of the hat to Dylan. A dusty truck-stop diner sets the backdrop for an ode to chastity on "No Man's Land," while circular country picking on "Ode to Lulubelle" lends a suitable atmosphere for the narrator to tell us about one rather, um, large and forceful gal, as Arvefel sings of a "whip-snappin‚ knuckle-crackin‚ hunk of a woman" who "made my socks roll up and down." The harmony-laden "Movin' On Feelin'" oompahs down train tracks and dirt trails, while "They Call It Love" floats along on a light Caribbean rhythm. "My fears died with Him at Calvary," Arvefel sings on "The Truth," a pulsing, straightforward statement of faith that's brim-full of emotion.
The disc closes with the elegant and beautiful "My Child, There's No Goodbyes," a reassuring message of love and forgiveness bolstered by heavenly keyboards. As Arvefel says in his website bio (nodarvefel.org), "Now all I desire is to be a blessing." The sense of charity, humor and love conveyed on this album shows that the real Joe Factory is making good on that desire.
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