If the recently-released “C.W. Franz VI” centered on the concept of someone trying to find his place in the world and, to a larger extent, the universe, the much smaller-scaled “C.W. Franz VII”, the latest in Chicago singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer C.W. Franz’s series of self-titled albums, focuses on one’s path forward in life and love being constantly roadblocked by sins and regrets of the past.
Like its predecessor, the true-to-life character C.W. plays on this album is mentally, physically and emotionally trapped. All three traps are hinted at on the opening track “Devil Town”, where C.W. sings a brief acapella cover of the late singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston song of the same name. C.W’s sardonic lyrics, ranging from not knowing he lived in a devil town to realizing that he and his friends are vampires, brilliantly establishes the headspace he’s in at that point. You can also picture a lonely, inebriated C.W. due to his disenchanted singing and the rough mix of the track itself (you can hear a slight hiss in the background).
Speaking of inebriated, alcohol is the main weakness of the album’s protagonist, as it fuels his flings with various women and destroys any chance of a satisfactory, long-term relationship. On “Drop Zero/Carry (The Wild Rover)”, C.W. reworks the classic Irish folk song “The Wild Rover” – a comical and upbeat take on the typical “no more for me” excuse a drunkard makes right before diving back to the alcoholic drink of choice – into a distinctively bleak anthem of regret and shame. The production on this track is quite striking, as we get an intentionally disorienting mix of ukulele strums from C.W. and electric guitar chords from fellow musician Joe Bordash with the drums of Mason Rosenfeld acting as a mediator of sorts between the two contrasting sounds. Sonically, it’s meant to highlight the protagonist’s inner turmoil, with the ukulele serving as an expression of his pain and Joe’s guitars beckoning him to return to the coping mechanisms he addresses on this track.
At its core, “C.W. Franz VII” is more akin to a breakup album than a heavy-handed PSA on alcoholism. While “good liquor” and “fast women” are indeed the protagonist’s vices, the loss of a long-lasting partner is the ultimate price he pays. What the album does incredibly well is frame C.W. as someone who’s been on this road before, and this is where we get to the self-explanatory track “She Moved to Fairfax”. Here, C.W. sings about an instance when he dumped his grief onto an old crush of his, causing her to leave him indefinitely. The entire track oozes in despondency, from C.W.’s slow piano keys and soft, atmospheric keyboards to guest performer Leon Van Egmond’s harmonica which gives the song an appropriately bluesy feel. The only uplifting moment of the song comes in the form of a mandolin from fellow musician Rodnell Matos, which shows up right at the end of the first verse and, interestingly enough, four lines after the mention of a “soft mandolin”. The chorus is simple yet direct, as C.W. states that she “moved to Fairfax, her piece of the American Dream” (a subtle allusion to the overarching theme of “C.W. Franz II”) while he’s left behind with the “DC blues” waiting for his opportunity to leave.
And out of his failed attempt to leave the ‘devil town’, we get the album’s best track: a cover of Canadian folk singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain”. For a song so melancholy, C.W. and his guests fire on all cylinders, whether it’s Joel F. Larsson’s somber piano, Doc Brown’s country music-synonymous pedal steel guitar work and C.W. himself on vocals and keyboards. Delivering some of the most expressive vocals I’ve heard from him in quite a while, C.W.’s character is literally placed at a far distance from an airport where he could’ve boarded a plane and left town – were it not for his abovementioned vices. And it’s painfully obvious he also skipped out on an opportunity at love, which is BEAUTIFULLY illustrated in the third verse as he compares his abovementioned crush’s journey to that of the 707 airliner he failed to board.
The idea of flight as a means of escape and hope is explored even further on the interlude “Glimpse of a Chickadee” and subsequent track “Osprey”. The former, dedicated to C.W.’s current love interest, is the sole instrumental on the album. And as brief as it is (clocking in at a mere 48 seconds), it sounds so warm and inviting – and that’s just the music surrounding the sound of a chirping chickadee. And then there’s “Osprey”, which sounds tonally like a sadder sequel to “Early Morning Rain” thanks to Doc Brown’s wailing pedal steel guitar, C.W’s hopeless piano chords and guest musician Gabb Matos’s complimentary acoustic guitar. C.W.’s songwriting is particularly strong here, as he compares the basic instinctive movements of the osprey (hunt, fly over to nest, spend time with its offspring for a bit, return to hunting, rinse, repeat…) to his own regimen (go out to numb his pain, return home to wallow in his pain, rinse, repeat…).
There are a couple of tracks on the record centered on the protagonist’s recalled memories, each of which left a significant impact on his life. The first is the relatively pleasant alt country song “Faux Leather” which starts off with C.W. reminiscing on a Christmas Day gathering he experienced during his first serious relationship and ends with him highlighting his faux leather jacket, a sole reminder of his last serious relationship (before the one he’s currently in). The transitioning between relationships is emphasized in the song’s production, where it starts off in a smooth, serene tone and, after the track’s mid-point, switches to a moodier, slightly darker vibe.
The most haunting of these tracks is “Tracing”. Driven by a Shepard Tone-like melody courtesy of C.W.’s Casio SA-76 and supported by some superb mandolin work from Rodnell Matos, C.W. reflects on a past moment he and his current girlfriend were together and the goodness they saw in each other after giving a homeless man five dollars. As hinted in the song’s lyrics, specifically in the outro, their relationship will eventually become a long-distance one (temporarily, that is) and you can feel the concern he has for the possible difficulties that may arise permeate throughout the song.
And then there’s the penultimate track “Mexican Cocoa” where C.W., inspired by memories of happier times, finally takes the first step toward exiting his vice-fueled comfort zone. Getting the track’s major flaw out of the way, there were a few spots on the hook and bridge where C.W.’s vocals were pushed to the back of the mix. For such an integral moment on the album, C.W. needed to be front and center throughout the entirety of the song. Flaw aside, everything else about “Mexican Cocoa” is great! The STELLAR blues rock production from start to finish (the guitars in particular sound amazing) evokes the feel of watching a live band performance. And speaking of performance, I can’t help but picture C.W. himself, center stage, performing in front of a large audience every time I hear this track! Though he expresses how unsure he is in terms of taking that aforementioned step, you can tell that he knows he HAS to take it in order to move forward. And while the titular “Mexican cocoa” (a subtle callback to the food sub-theme of “C.W. Franz III”) hearkens back to a better place in C.W’s life, it’s a place that, simply put, he can RETURN to. In addition, the image of Broadway – brought up in the song’s hook (“Somewhere off Broadway….”) – as a symbol for the long-term joy and success he seeks to attain in life may ultimately be unattainable for him. But it’s a goal nonetheless and one that he can work towards. At least he’ll be out of that devil town for good.
The album and the “C.W. Franz” series as a whole concludes with “Quiet Fireworks”, a brief but genuinely beautiful spoken-word piece dedicated to his girlfriend. In the end, “C.W. Franz VII” succeeds as a coda to the loose, introspective narrative established in the first “C.W. Franz” album from 2019 and heightened to an existential level on “C.W. Franz VI”. Though a part of me still feels that “VI” should’ve been THE conclusion to the series due to its epic, climactic feel, I do commend C.W. for ending his series the way he wanted to. It may not be as dense as his previous works, but its overall succinctness and strong, emotionally impactful qualities will definitely make this record an instant standout in his discography.
OVERALL RATING: 8.5 out of 10
Now available on Bandcamp and coming soon to Spotify, Tidal, iTunes, Apple Music and Deezer
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