It was only three weeks
ago when I was fortunate enough to see David Francey perform live (reviewed here), and now I’m fortunate enough to roll one of his albums!
Disc 1341 is…So Say We All
Artist:
David Francey
Year of Release: 2013
What’s up with the
Cover?
David Francey walks down an alley, or at least that’s what several witnesses
later reported. Are they sure it was David Francey? Did they ever see his face?
This guy could be anyone!
Sorry, that’s as exciting as I can make this “guy walks down an alley”
album cover.
How I Came to Know
It: It was part of a flurry of
David Francey purchases I made after I read about him in a folk magazine and got
excited.
How It Stacks Up: If you’re reading
along, you already know how many David Francey albums I have. Of those, I put
“So Say We All” smack-dab in the middle at #5. I think it could be #4 on a good
day, but for now I’ll stick with #5, while reserving the right to change my
mind.
Ratings: 4 stars
David Francey songs are like ACDC songs – they
all sound vaguely the same and they all sound good. The similarities end at the
high and very subjective level, of course. Francey’s no rock god. He tells true
blue Canadian stories that are stripped down folk songs, delivered with heart
and pathos.
Francey is a natural storyteller, and his
gravelly baritone vocals, tinged with more than an echo of his Scottish birthplace,
are the perfect delivery system for his tales. He doesn’t do anything special
technically. “So Say We All” is his 10th studio release and he
sticks doggedly to his well-established formula. This consists of a short
rhyming couplet, followed by a second, or maybe a refrain if he’s feeling particularly
reflective.
However obvious it may seem (even the melodies
have the same familiar lilt) I wouldn’t change a thing. He’s the master of his
craft, and his easy rhymes are only easy after he sets them before you and they
drop naturally into place like they’ve always been there. His delivery is only
so carefree because his phrasing sits so beautifully in the pocket you don’t
notice him doing it. We should all wish we could deliver art with such apparent
ease and grace.
Ten albums in has its own set of advantages as
well. For one thing, the production on this record is brilliantly balanced, with
a thick and rich tone to every note that doesn’t exist on his earlier stuff where,
presumably, he had a smaller budget.
Over the years Francey has also gathered
around him some wonderful musicians who share his mastery of homespun charm. Francey
sings and writes the songs, but he wisely gives way on the instruments to some
great players. Mark Westberg (guitar), Darren McMullen (mandolin, bouzouki), and
Chris Coole (banjo, dobro) give the record a tumbling energy that matches
Francey’s. Mark Westberg in particular, with his percussive style on the guitar,
makes the record feel awake and visceral, like you’re hearing a busker on a
city street, or an impromptu performance beside a fireplace in some snowed-in
cabin.
Francey is a folk singer without pretense. He’s
not here to protest – necessarily, and he’s not here to paint a pretty picture –
again, necessarily – he just writes what he sees with an almost childlike
wonder, and lets his listener’s judgment take it from there.
A good example is “Cheap Motel,” which is
a song about…a cheap motel. Francey gives you a vivid picture of every cheap
motel you’ve ever seen:
“Behind the stairs and the Coke
machine
Down in the corner, sight unseen
In the cheap motel”
With the denizens of the place that ground it
in the lives of real characters:
“The girl at the desk, she’s
learning guitar
Watching the faces, counting the cars.
In the cheap motel
“Works by herself, likes it alone
Eyes looking through you, harder
than stone.
In the cheap motel.”
You can tell this is one specific girl, but Francey
simultaneously gives voice to the countless girls like her, eking out an honest
living on the edge of an uncaring highway.
On “Pandora’s Box” Francey tackles the internet,
and how its powers can be used for good or ill. It has a bit of “old guy
encounters tech” to it, but the sad and haunted way Francey sings the chorus:
“Hasp and hinges broken
Pandora’s box wide open.”
Makes it feel honest and real.
This authenticity is Francey’s greatest gift.
A love song like “A Star Above” could feel dated and trite in the wrong
hands. With Francey singing it feels timeless, like it fell out of the pocket
of a seventeenth century Cavalier poet. A couple killer mandolin solos from
Darren McMullen don’t hurt either.
“So Say We All” features modern recordings,
but the songs were written across Francey’s earlier career (1999-2008). How
these songs never made it on an earlier record is beyond me, but I’m glad that
this time they survived the cut.
Best tracks: Rain, Cheap Motel, Pandora’s Box, Satellite, American
Blues, A Star Above
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