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Maybe I’m completely hopeless in my late night kowtowing reverence, but I’ll be walking around today and tomorrow listening to nothing but American folk artist Jackson C. Frank (to clarify: more than I already do), as today and tomorrow mark the man’s birth and death (March 2, 1943 – March 3, 1999).
T.J. McGrath called him the “most famous folksinger of the 1960s that no one has ever heard of” in a 1995 essay, perhaps because he only managed to turn out one album in ’65–a great one, covered by the essentials from Nick Drake, Bert Jansch, Sandy Denny (who dated Frank), Simon and Garfunkel (the former enthusiastically produced the album), and hey, Counting Crows. Frank was incredibly shy, so much that he hid behind a screen while recording, and I think of that every time a line of his moves a gut of mine. He went to England on insurance money from a furnace accident that happened in his youth–a main source of depression that wildfired through his life–and returned to the States only when the payments were running out. As his audience waned and releasing a second album seemed less and less out of reach, he fell into an even deeper depression devoid of any earlier build-up of confidence. From then on he lived between the streets of New York and psychiatric institutions, dealing with what was diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenia and a number of other health problems, even having been shot and blinded in the left eye.
A fan of Frank’s, Jim Abbott, managed to get a hold of the lost songwriter in the early 90s, before his death in 1999 of pneumonia and cardiac arrest:
“When I went down I hadn’t seen a picture of him, except for his album cover. Then, he was thin and young. When I went to see him, there was this heavy guy hobbling down the street, and I thought, ‘That can’t possibly be him’…I just stopped and said ‘Jackson?’ and it was him. My impression was, ‘Oh my God’, it was almost like the elephant man or something. He was so unkempt, dishevelled.” a further side effect of the fire was a thyroid malfunction causing him to put on weight. “He had nothing. It was really sad. We went and had lunch and went back to his room. It almost made me cry, because here was a fifty-year-old man, and all he had to his name was a beat-up old suitcase and a broken pair of glasses. I guess his caseworker had given him a $10 guitar, but it wouldn’t stay in tune. It was one of those hot summer days. He tried to play Blues Run The Game for me, but his voice was pretty much shot.”
While I realize this story is depressing as all shit, there are days where I’m still nothing but grateful for the little that Frank turned out. I urge anyone reading this to take a break today or tomorrow or any heavy-on-the-shoulders day and to dedicate a cigarette, a beer, or a pull overhead of the bedsheets with Frank on the headphones. My favorite unordered five for a downtime soundtrack might be “Blues Run the Game,” “October,” “(Tumble) In the Wind,” “My Name is Carnival,” and “Milk and Honey”–though I can easily recommend others.
Jackson C. Frank – Blues Run The Game: Expanded Deluxe Edition
(Disc 1 / Disc 2)
Gang Starr MC, Guru, is in a coma after a heart attack yesterday. I know you all want him to pull on through.
Everyone needs to check out The-Dream’s 2009 record Love v. Money. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the pinnacle of modern radio R & B. This guy’s writing credits include “Umbrella” and “Single Ladies”, but his solo work surpasses anything he’s written for other artists. What’s really surprising is that ANY SONG off of this record easily could have been a hit single for any other R & B artist, yet I haven’t heard this guy on the radio. Basically if you want to hear radio R & B pushed to its creative limits, check this record out!
U2 kind of sucks, but this song is golden in the hands of the Chimes.
I’ve never heard the problematics of subject/object relations in representation expressed so smoothly. Usually it comes out in clunky theory or in some lame sonnet, but Dwele makes it sound down right cool. Even at the cost of being objectified, there seems to be some element of empowerment by signing up to be Dwele’s subject. I mean, damn, who else is going to sing about you that smoothly?
Since we’re seemingly really into music videos, and I personally am really into hula hooping, here is an awesome video of “I Think I Like You” by Donora. I haven’t really listened to Donora, but I’ve heard of them because they’re from our fair city. But then I came across this video today, and I fell in love. Mostly with the hula hooping, but the song is also super cute. I am going to find this girl and challenge her to a hoop-off. Details TBA.
For anyone that dug Erykah Badu’s last joint, this guy was responsible for a good deal of it. In other words, he can lay down some hot shit himself. Check this video out along with the record he dropped last year while you’re waiting for New Amerykah pt. II!!!
Also, for any fans of The Wire (!!!!) watch out for Avon Barksdale in this video.
One of my good friends is nuts about Regina and tried to get me into her freshman year, but at the time I was not a big fan of female singing voices (and I’m female… so… don’t know what that means.) But over the blizzard break I found myself with a lot of Youtube time on my hands and played several of her videos on repeat for a few days or so. And now I’m just enamored with this little fearless Soviet-born singer. It’s not as evident in this song as in others, but she’s just great at using her voice as an instrumental tool and isn’t afraid to sound rough or unpretty. And her lyrics are goofy and whimsical and fun. I just wanna hang out with her and go swing on swings and ask how perestroika was.
Collision Literary Magazine 