“American Darkness” is the surprise album from producer / multi-instrumentalist C.W. Franz, released a mere four days after his full-length record “Absolute”. In the wide wonderful world of music streaming, one would think a batch of fresh songs released at least a week after an album drop is meant to be added to the album’s track listing as bonuses. But as stated in its Bandcamp liner notes, “American Darkness” was originally meant to be a C.W. Franz and The Big Bluestems (Luca Giannotti and Rodnell Matos) project. And while it bears a few major similarities to their debut album “American Byways”, mainly the primary use of string instruments and themes related to American history, this project is handled solely by C.W. with a stripped-down, freeform sound and a darker approach to its Americana-based subject matter.
Recorded in roughly 90 minutes on the day before its release and inspired by a sense of unease felt due to certain current events, “American Darkness” feels like a fever dream put on wax, with C.W. expressing specific fears and concerns through the use of guitar. Its deeply personal angle echoes his 2022 project “Solo”, which is interesting since one of his three guitars of choice (along with a guitar zither) on this record is his Texaco Oil Can-o-Caster.
The opening track “Silence in Carthage, IL” features the only instance of harmonica use on the album, consisting of two notes. Like the “Hilltop Waltz (Gambier, OH)” track on “American Byways”, this is the shortest song on this record, and given its placement on the track list and its blink-and-you-miss-it duration, it’s as if we’re hearing the theme for a film studio before the feature presentation begins. The following track “Several Laments for the Deceased Children in Chicago, Gary and Nashville” is pretty self-explanatory in terms of its theme and overall vibe. Its title references the various young victims of gun violence who lost their lives on December 16th 2022 at Benito Juarez High School in Chicago, February 17th 2023 (the body of a 13-year-old boy was found near a church in Gary, Indiana) and, quite recently, March 27th 2023 (three children were killed in a mass shooting at a private Christian school in Nashville), ONE DAY before this album was recorded. Taking the “American Byways” aesthetic into consideration, this track feels like we’re traversing through the streets of these three places, zeroing in on the vigils for these unfortunate victims and the cries for justice from friends, family and citizens. C.W.’s disenchanted, dirge-like composition consists of slight variants of the song’s establishing melody, which effectively convey the on-again, off-again feelings of sadness, pain and respite felt from those incidents.
“Korematsu’s Tears” is one of two track titles alluding to American history and early civil rights movements: in this case, the late civil rights activist Fred Korematsu who resisted the World War II internment of Japanese Americans. The haunting, stripped-back sound of this instrumental compliments the dark, bleak tone already established on the album by the previous track, right down to the creepy, punctuated plucks during the last few seconds.
And if the abovementioned intro sounds like a film studio theme, the closing track “John Brown’s Mouldering Body” – the second of the album’s two civil rights-themed songs – plays out like the closing credits to a 70s horror film. Its title is a reference to the classic marching song centered on abolitionist leader John Brown who was executed by Confederates for a failed incitement of a slave rebellion. Saving his ‘most haunting’ for last, C.W. creates a track that, conceptually, sounds like Brown himself rose from the grave and observed how racism trickled its way into the structure of American society. C.W.’s freeform playing on his guitar zither works here, as we get an instrumental consisting of harsh, cavernous, swirling strums, building to an overwhelming climax around the 4:20 mark and plateauing with an atmospheric, lullaby-like coda.
But the album’s highlight is definitely its longest song “The Deaths and Subsequent Resurrections of the Budweiser Clydesdales”, whose title alone is truly attention-grabbing. Whilst researching these horses and the beloved brand of beer they represent, I ran into an article on a recent accident involving eight Budweiser Clydesdales at the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo. One of the horses fell to the ground and the others got tangled in their harnesses. In its second attempt to get back up, the horse stood on all four legs and walked away, much to the praise of the audience. Now I could be wrong but this song could be C.W.’s ‘retelling’ of the incident. While the track itself exudes a relatively hopeful vibe compared to what we heard before, there are a few moments of tension, like the erratic strumming around the 4:55 mark, and on the 5:25 mark where C.W. beats on his Can-o-Caster like a drum while strumming it (perhaps meant to represent the ‘subsequent resurrections’ of the horses from this accident). In a surprising moment, C.W. performs a brief bit of vocalizing in the track’s last leg, which is probably meant to reinforce the ‘resurrection’ sub-theme of the song.
Happy ending to that track aside, “American Darkness” gives you exactly what its title suggests: a bleak look at the harsh realities and distressing unpredictability of American life. While it works as a thematic sequel of sorts to both “Solo” and “American Byways”, it is its own distinctive burst of fear-driven, guitar-strummed creativity. Given its direct and indirect subject matter, “American Darkness” is, for the most part, a tough listen. But it comes from the heart, and hopefully it’ll help shed a light on many of the fears Americans face on a day-to-day basis.
OVERALL RATING: 6 out of 10
Now available on Bandcamp
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