Riding high off his rather impressive output of projects this year, Chicago singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer C.W. Franz returns with his newest entry in his self-titled series of albums: “C.W. Franz V”. As stated on its Bandcamp page: “What started as some home recordings of my new custom instrument became an exploration of the history of Illinois, and an examination of the harsh truths we must face as a state, a nation and as a global community”. In my review of “C.W. Franz IV”, I criticized its ‘lack’ of a theme, or at least some bit of subject matter for me to mentally project the album’s instrumentals onto. Thankfully we get that on this album, and similar to “C.W. Franz II” (which “IV” served as a companion piece to), we get a personal trip through the American Midwest; in this case, the state of Illinois.
Whilst giving “C.W. Franz V” numerous listens, my mind kept going back to its synopsis, specifically its mentions of Illinois history and harsh truths to be faced as a state, nation and global community. Interestingly, 13 of the album’s 15 tracks are named after communities in Illinois, and the city of Zion is used as the ‘backdrop’ of an interlude, penultimate and closing track.
But it’s the two remaining songs that set the stage for what this album is about. The first is the opening track “Land of the Illiniwek” (“Illiniwek” referring to the Illinois Confederation, which was made up of 12-13 Native American tribes) which features a spacey, ethereal, Shepard Tone-like synth beat that literally places you in the middle of the universe’s creation; which is funny since C.W., utilizing a God-like vocal filter in one of the album’s most audacious moments, recites the first two verses of the first chapter of Genesis (King James Version). But instead of saying “the spirit of God”, he says “the spirit of terror”. To further establish the album’s tone going forward, he wisely excludes the most memorable verse in that chapter: “And God said, let there be light and there was light”.
The message of “C.W. Franz V” is established on the epic, 10-minute track – and easily the album’s best song – “Prairie Suite (Maskote.wi”). Here, with the assistance of Reinaldo Ocando on campana and Max Kerner on citole and bagpipes, C.W. pays tribute to Black Hawk, a leader of the Sauk group of Native Americans and an iconic figure in the 1812 war between the US and the British (who he fought alongside). In addition to playing the keyboard and rawhide rattle throughout the song’s despondent yet beautifully triumphant instrumental, C.W. recites a passage from Black Hawk’s 1833 autobiography, one of the first books, centered on a Native American, to be published in the US. In that passage, Black Hawk expresses his thoughts on his then-captivity by the American government following the removal of his tribe from Illinois as an end result of signing a peace treaty with the US. One particular line stuck with me: “The pathway to glory is rough, and many gloomy hours obscure it”.
And it’s those gloomy hours that take up a majority of the album’s runtime, expressed in a series of sonically lush and pleasant folk instrumentals with an omnipresent sense of dread hovering over them like, say, a spirit of terror. Conceptually, “C.W. Franz V” plays out like a sweeping, bird’s-eye-view of Illinois, with each highlighted town displayed as a social and historical microcosm of America. And yet they were the homes of the Illinois Confederation before the eventual settling of the French, British and Americans, the latter of whom orchestrated the Indian Removal Act which legally removed indigenous people from their ancestral lands.
On “Kaskaskia and Vandalia” (two former capitals of Illinois), we’re treated to some pleasant strums of C.W.’s ukulele and guest performer Franco Trincavelli’s acoustic twelve-string guitar, along with some qanun work from Nadav Freehand that gives the song a subtle exoticness. Speaking of exoticness, there’s some noticeable tabla work from Ajavi Desai on the following track “Belleville”, which sounds fantastic over C.W’s Appalachian dulcimer and keyboards.
In another audacious – or should I say unexpected – moment on the album, guest performer Mathilde Pero delivers a short poem entirely in French on “Champaign-Urbana”. This is clearly from the perspective of a French settler, as she describes the “brick and mortar”, “sunflowers” and “crops” she notices outside her ‘new home’. After the regal-sounding opening keyboards, we get a considerably dark instrumental featuring some tense strumming from C.W’s custom soprano cigar box guitar.
On the track “Heyworth”, the overlapping of melodies from the tabla, harmonium and dulcimer – the latter of which sounds like it’s almost clashing with the other two – creates a subtle sense of unease and sonic disharmony. And while there is a bit of an emotional respite (1 minute and 18 seconds to be exact) on the following song “Bloomington”, the darkness increases on the album highlight “Gardner”. The combination of Brandon Chopp’s HAUNTING classical guitar, Camille Bois’ tenor gemshorn and C.W’s keyboards and rain stick creates this foreboding sense of doom that never lets up. Glory, as visualized by the aforementioned Black Hawk, seems unattainable at this point, as expressed by the shortness in length of the interlude “The Way to Zion I”.
There’s another respite, albeit a near minute-long one, in the form of the peaceful, lovely and almost celebratory (blame it on the rubab and Greek baglamas used here) “Glenview”. And then, on “Wilmette” the tension returns, and you can hear it in the startling disharmony and unevenness between C.W’s cigar box guitar and the backing caxixi, frame drum and sarangi.
And then we get “Evanston/Skokie (Their Eyes Are Watching Us)”, an intriguing, self-aware moment where the album’s loose narrative is paused in order for C.W. to speak his mind. Not only does its instrumental deliver an odd calm throughout its duration (Calm before the storm, perhaps?) but it’s pushed slightly away from the front of the mix, as if we’re hearing this band on-stage perform an overture before C.W. literally steps forward to the audience. His poem, entitled “Their Eyes Are Watching Us” is steeped in cynicism, as he criticizes the edification of the youth and the silencing of the old by the broken system of the United States, and yet attention-grabbing events like the killing of 46-year old George Floyd and the acquittal of 17-year old Kyle Rittenhouse are unfortunate by-products of that broken system. Speaking of Rittenhouse, is it mere coincidence that the following track “Antioch” (which comes before the abovementioned “Prairie Suite (Maskote.wi)”), with its dispirited and somewhat bluesy instrumental, refers to the town Kyle was born in? Honestly, I think not.
With its heavenly, harp and bansuri flute-assisted instrumental, “The Way to Zion II” delivers a much-needed sense of peace and relief from the events hinted at in “Prairie Suite”. However, we get a little twist to that nirvana-like peace in the title to the final song: “Zion, Late Afternoon”. Zion, in this case, is the Illinois city and not exactly the heaven one might expect by its name. In other words, the album ends not in the heavens but on Earth where, despite this moment of calm, darkness still exists. And yet, hope permeates through “Zion, Late Afternoon”, expressed through the track’s calm, relaxed mix of sarod, tabla and keyboard melodies. C.W. recites a segment from English poet William Blake’s “Introduction to the Songs of Innocence”, where the writer forgoes basking in his own serenity, and instead proceeds to write his “happy songs every child may joy to hear”.
And here, the point of the album is made clear. To prevent the dark aspects of America’s history from repeating themselves, particularly the reverberations of the Indian Removal Act and slavery – amongst other historical events – on modern American society, there must be a continual, conscious effort to impart the lessons learned from the past generation onto the present. As you can tell, there’s a lot to unpack and examine from this album, and I can assure you that its complex subject matter, emotionally-driven production and overall conscientious execution, will make subsequent listens to “C.W. Franz V” all the more rewarding. It’s easily one of C.W.’s most personal, thought-provoking and unforgettable works, and certainly an emotional journey well worth revisiting.
OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10
Available on Bandcamp, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music, Tidal & Deezer
BBB RADIO 