ALBUM REVIEW: C.W. Franz – C.W. Franz IX

Though I came in a year too late to the beginning of C.W. Franz’ self-titled album series (forgive me, my Fiverr gig didn’t exist back then), my official introduction to Franz’s music came in the form of 2020’s “C.W. Franz II”, an instrumental evocation of memories related to the American Midwest. From there, I’ve covered every “C.W. Franz” installment up to this point, experiencing and pretty much documenting the unique concepts, various emotions and degrees of musical experimentation along the way.

“C.W. Franz III” and “C.W. Franz VI” are currently my top two favorites, the former being an elegy for the traditional American restaurant whose release during the second year of the pandemic made the experience of listening to it all the more heartbreaking, and the latter being a bleak, epic, existential journey where time and space were ripped apart in an attempt to find meaning within the banality of modern-day life. Back when I reviewed “VI” and interviewed C.W. himself on my podcast, I assumed there was nowhere else for this series to go. And then “C.W. Franz VII” and “VIII: Adrift and Hoping” dropped, bringing things literally back down to Earth. Acting as two sides of the same coin – day and night, if you will, given their contrasting album covers – “VII” and “VIII” saw C.W. moving optimistically forward in his life through a new relationship, leaving behind a dark path of broken hearts and unforgivable mistakes.

Now we have “C.W. Franz IX”, the ninth chapter of this ongoing series, once again boasting an eclectic cast of guest performers and a striking album cover designed by KM Designs. And in order to describe the experience I had with this record prior to writing this review, I have to talk about that cover.

With the first few listens I gave the album, my mind kept zeroing in on two things: the production and that cover. Bear in mind that I was simply basking in the sound and tuning into the vibe of the record, without thinking too much about what was going on thematically and lyrically. But I felt there was something missing, or at least something that didn’t grab me during those first few listens. I went back to that cover and then I noticed something I didn’t before: two birds, each perched on a tree on opposite sides of the forest portrait serving as the album art. And THAT was when the album finally clicked for me!

Playing almost like a ‘threequel’ to “VII” and “VIII”, “C.W. Franz IX” is a breakup record, which is admittedly nothing new in C.W.’s expansive discography.  And yet with the more listens I gave it after that ‘mind-blowing’ reveal of the birds in the album art, I couldn’t help but see it as a turning point in C.W.’s musical career, where he takes all of the stylistic practices and thematic fascinations that he’d been honing and pondering on for the past five years and combining them into a stunningly cohesive whole!

It begins with the first of two two-parters (technically, there’s three – but more on that later) “Flying Over Home (Thinking of You) / Permanent Affection”. The first half opens with an archival recording of the “Steamboat Bill” refrain made famous through the iconic Disney cartoon “Steamboat Willie”. Not only does that sample reflect C.W.’s deep interest in American history and the reverberations of its past upon modern society (“C.W. Franz II”, “C.W. Franz V” and “American Republic in Crisis” come to mind), but it sets up the album’s main symbol: a bird. Now you’re probably asking yourself: “But isn’t it an animated mouse who does the whistling?” My response to that is: “Isn’t that cartoon now accessible through the public domain?” On a side note, it’s funny how this album takes us off the yacht from the album cover of “VIII” and onto a metaphorical steamboat in a matter of seconds.

Anyway, “Flying Over Home (Thinking of You)” kick-starts with some gentle strumming courtesy of C.W.’s beloved Texaco Oil Can-o-Caster, which evolves into a warm, pleasant duet with guest artist Michael Wookey on Marxophone. Going back to the album cover, this moment feels like the musical backdrop to a cinematic establishing shot involving the forest from the album art. Roughly around the 2:45 mark, C.W. starts singing, and as short of a verse he gives in this first half, it packs a lot of emotional punch. The album’s premise is laid out: three days have passed, and his romantic partner has left the “temporary nest” with no indication of returning. C.W. mentions “Steamboat Willie” in the third bar, which I interpreted as him expressing how he feels the complete opposite of how carefree Mickey Mouse was in that cartoon.

In the “Permanent Affection” half of the track, we get another fantastic duet between C.W. and Michael, with some Ebow use from the latter in the background. C.W. returns to the bird metaphors, singing about how the “audacious starling and chickadee flies over home to the nest where they feel they should be”. He ends the verse with a tear-inducing farewell of sorts to his former partner, effectively setting up the record’s poignant tone.

The following track “No Worries” opens with a soft duet between C.W. and classical guitarist Naythen Wilson. C.W.’s undulating pace creates this weird sense of dread as if he fears the reminiscence he’s about to embark on in this track will hurt him. And yet he receives some much-needed support from Naythen, alongside guest pianist Neemias Teixiera on the Yamaha P-95. All three instrumentals combine into a stirring soundscape which takes up the rest of the song. During that section, C.W. delivers a short and genuinely heartwarming recollection of specific memories, evoking the mental retreats into “happier times” prevalent on “C.W. Franz III” and 2023’s “American Byways” featuring The Big Bluestems. And in those happy, burden-free moments of “No Worries”, C.W. had “nowhere somewhere else to be” (God, I LOVE that line) and “didn’t worry enough then” of his own limitations, imperfections and, in an emotionally captivating moment, his “own self”.

Up next is the second two-part track “Got Troubles/ Got Mine”, whose first part begins with what sounds like a bluegrass-like melody made up of C.W.’s vibrant strumming and The Big Bluestems’ own Rodnell Matos’ playful plucking of the mandolin, with some six-string fretless electric bass support from guest bassist Hexifice. Another memory, just as vague as the ones on “No Worries”, is brought up in song, but it’s clear that C.W.’s singing about his ex. Here, he recalls a moment where he was deathly afraid of something and she was there at that time to support him.

Afterwards, C.W’s Can-o-Caster playing slows down to a crawl, then picks back up to signify the start of the track’s second half (“Got Mine”). The bluegrass-like melody restarts, this time in a slightly different pitch, then slows down after a while for C.W. to finish his story. A callback to one of the main themes of “C.W. Franz VII”, C.W. reminds himself of how he emotionally mistreated his former partner. Perhaps out of fear of his own future, he proceeded to shut her out of his life, ultimately resulting in their separation. And in the track’s final moments, he summarizes that outcome in both a regretful and indifferent manner by saying “some things don’t last”.

Similar to the sonic experimentation on “C.W. Franz II” and “C.W. Franz V”, C.W. incorporates some non-American instruments into “IX” via the following track “Shaker Symmetry”. Thanks to Maryan Banan on oud and longtime collaborator Reinaldo Ocando on darbuka, finger cymbals and vibraslap, percussion is FINALLY added to the album’s instrumental palette. Throughout this track, we’re treated to this exotic and slightly sensual mix of Can-o-Caster, darbuka, finger cymbals, vibraslap, oud and Hexifice’s electric bass guitar. Seemingly intoxicated by the vibe of the production, C.W. starts praising his former partner’s external and internal beauty. I especially LOVE how the oud makes its introduction in the final line of the first verse between “addressing” and “unjust policy”. In the second verse, he confesses that he still finds her perfect in his eyes, “encircled and flanked by other perfect ones”. The following lines add some depth to his perspective on their past relationship: “I give so much to you / That I don’t think enough for myself”. And similar to the opening lines of the track “Northern California Blues” off his recently-released “Solo Again” record, C.W. closes this song with this self-aware couplet (“It’s all the same tune, in a similar mode / It’s been that way as long as I can remember”).

We then get the two-part, two-track final act and album highlight “Auk and Chickadee” (i.e. the two birds on the cover. I Googled their names to make sure, by the way). Part 1 opens with two repeated notes from C.W.’s Can-o-Caster, amplified for a few seconds with a droning reverb before settling into a fully fleshed-out melody. In a moment of pure brilliance, a double bass from guest artist Bruno De La Rosa creeps into the mix, establishing the sweeping, epic feel this particular song will treat us to. After the 3:10 mark, C.W. delivers a SUPERBLY written first verse centered on mending a broken heart whilst “selling hearts” on Valentine’s Day that is nothing short of heartrending. Ajayi Desai, who appeared on “C.W. Franz V”, adds some tabla to the second verse, right where C.W. mentions how she found that his words had beauty. And then in a truly powerful moment, C.W. looks inward and declares that he’ll open his heart out to her so she can see what she knows: “heavenly moments”. Instead of bottling them up, he’ll express these moments to her through song. And from that revelation, C.W.’s strumming increases, building into a heavenly crescendo alongside the tabla and double bass. And then out of nowhere, guest performer Jose David shows up on timpani to guide the song into this wondrous climax! This bird is going to sing his heart out, with the hope that his former mate flies towards his nest at just the right time to hear him.

And just when your tear ducts have had enough, Part 2 begins, and I love how it just STARTS with no buildup or hesitation. Energized by the exuberance of Part 1, C.W. and Hexifice perform this joyous duet, with some support from the midpoint onward by Rodnell Matos who delivers a GORGEOUS solo via his mandolin. C.W. proceeds with a final tribute to his ex (revealed at this point to have auburn-colored hair), appreciating the memories they’ll continue to hold close to their hearts. And on the ambiguous closing line (“The rest is for ourselves to claim”), driven by the soothing sounds of Reinaldo Ocando’s marimba (Is this meant to represent the xylophone mentioned in that “Steamboat Willie” line on “Flying Over Home (Thinking of You)”?), we’re left with the hope that these two birds will continue to be a part of each other’s lives, regardless of the nest they each call home. And speaking of birds, the album’s outro involves a field recording – reminiscent of the ones used in “C.W. Franz IV” – of nature sounds presumably from a forest similar to the abovementioned album art.

On the Bandcamp liner notes, C.W. states that this album was “recorded in three days and then meticulously thought about for three months”. Initially, he was going to release it with just his voice and improvised Can-O-Caster compositions, but something told him to sit with it for a while. And I can safely say that it was a great thing he did, because the end result is arguably the BEST entry in the “C.W. Franz” series  and, dare I say it, his BEST ALBUM thus far!

Also according to the liner notes, “C.W. Franz IX” is described as a “labor of love” – and it ABSOLUTELY shows! From the artwork and the lyrics to the mood and sound of each song, EVERYTHING feels thoughtful and emotionally-driven! But the two standout aspects of this album are its themes and overall musical execution. Drawing from his collaborations with other artists on “American Byways”, his “Orange Diamond” and “Wells House” jam sessions and some of his previous “C.W. Franz” records, C.W. managed to get the best out of his long-distance musical collaborators. You can tell they deeply UNDERSTOOD the album’s themes of heartbreak, forgiveness and moving forward and as a result, they projected that understanding into every note they played. And I will make the argument that even if you’ve never listened to a C.W. Franz album before, self-titled or otherwise, the themes are so relatable and the music is so refined and well-conducted, you can easily get into the vibe of this record. 

I guess for me, great things really do come in threes – or in multiples of three – because now “C.W. Franz IX” stands tall as my top favorite in this self-titled series, with “VI” and “III” in the second and third spots respectively! And like “VI”, I REALLY don’t know how or if it’s possible for C.W. to top what he did on this latest installment! I guess we’ll see when “X” is released, and if it’s one thing we’ve learned from a successful movie franchise with nine entries (see “The Fast and the Furious” – and in the case of this point being made, “Hobbs & Shaw” doesn’t count), there will inevitably be a Part 10. But for now, “C.W. Franz IX” is one of this year’s best albums and it gets my highest recommendation!

OVERALL RATING: 10 out of 10

Now available on Bandcamp and Spotify

ALBUM REVIEW: SV & Alyssa Jane – Neo Phily

Boston producer and Jim’s Pool Room Records co-founder Sean ‘SV’ Veligor and New England rapper/singer/songwriter Alyssa Jane join  forces on their debut joint record “Neo Phily”, which serves as both a follow-up to Alyssa’s 2021 debut album “grey area” and SV’s 2023 compilation project “My Corrhiza”. In my review of the latter, I stated that Alyssa was THE (yes, this word will be presented yet again in caps) standout performer on “My Corrhiza”, thanks to her diverse range in rapping and singing. She also displayed a willingness to wear her heart on her sleeve, even when she’s going hard on solo cuts like “Dopeness Right There” (whose chorus alone is still lodged in my brain since I first heard the song back in JANUARY of last year) or collabs like “Without You” and “The Tree” featuring Jim’s Pool Room artists Capo and Gage respectively.

Going back to Alyssa’s debut record, it’s interesting – and probably intentional – that it bears the same name as the excellent 2019 album from British rapper/singer Little Simz. Not only was that album my official introduction to Little Simz’ work, but it presented a rapper unafraid to address her flaws and insecurities through engaging and relatable introspection whilst showcasing her truly impressive lyrical dexterity. After the first few listens I gave “Neo Phily”, I checked out Alyssa’s “grey area” and from a production standpoint, I can see how her penchant for smooth, low-key beat selections fits so well with SV’s moody, mid-tempo instrumentation.

What’s interesting about “Neo Phily” is that it feels like a thematic expansion of “grey area” and a thematic / sonic expansion of the SV and Alyssa Jane tracks on “My Corrhiza”. Therefore, fans of Alyssa who were probably expecting her 2023-released singles like the respective smooth jazz and bossa nova crossovers “Karma Suits Ya” and “NEW PR!” to be packaged into a new album may have to wait a while longer. This is entirely an Alyssa and SV presentation to the extent of having NO guest features, not even from Jim’s Pool Room.

The album’s rewording of the term “neophilia” (love or enthusiasm for what’s new) and the juxtaposition of diurnal and nocturnal imagery in its cover art hint at the journey the listener is about to embark on. It’s a journey where the ‘new’ is right in front of us but the ‘old’ is not that far behind, and where light and dark co-exist, both externally and internally. From the opening track and third single “Kerosene”, SV and Alyssa establish the emotional ‘grey areas’ the listener will experience on this journey. The post-hook alone sets up the album’s main theme of emotional duality (“Tonight, I be quick to remember that I live two lives / Not talking about a disguise”). Though SV’s beat on this track is smooth, wavy and laid-back with some pleasantly jazzy horns and guitars in the mix, Alyssa wrestles with her own self-doubt while presenting herself as unwavering in her pursuit towards greatness in her life and career. She accepts her imperfect self, but the only way for her to attain some level of perfection in her life is obviously to move forward.  Performance-wise, Alyssa sounds so natural over SV’s production, effortlessly switching between rapping, singing and even vocalizing, as she does on the pre-hook after the first verse.

Compared to SV’s last instrumental, the production on the following track “Leave” sounds moodier, darker and significantly hypnotic, with its synth keys, drums and occasional embellishments of sax. It’s as if something unnerving – an emotion or memory perhaps – is creeping into Alyssa’s subconscious. Thematically and lyrically, this is one of the album’s darkest moments as Alyssa finds herself stuck in a particular rut in her life, desiring to leave everything behind in search for answers. 

Her emotional burdens get heavier on the next track “Pressed” where on the beat, we get this odd, brief skipping effect on the drums during the non-vocal sections of the track. It’s a subconsciously self-aware aspect of the song, as I saw it as a representation of how unclear Alyssa’s life path is. I will confess that during my first listen to this track, I swore some background process on my laptop was causing the song to stutter while I was playing it on Spotify. Sporadic Windows 10 annoyances aside, “Pressed” is easily one of the album’s best songs! Yes, the beat is great – even with the ‘skips’ – but it’s Alyssa’s vocal range that makes this song work. She embodies the emotional baggage she’s dealing with at this point in the record through her vocals, whether it’s the smoothly-sung, catchy-as-hell hook, the slightly heightened expressiveness of her raps, or her gradually aggressive post-chorus after the first verse.

Up next is the album’s second single “Trip on Me” which features this dreamy mix of R&B-styled drums, trap percussion and retro-80s synths. As the title implies, someone’s emotionally tripping on Alyssa  (a fan, a friend, a potential partner perhaps) and as the superbly trippy animated music video suggests, she’s taking this person on this psychedelic, mental journey through her highs and lows. Once again, she’s embracing her flawed, imperfect self and in the context of the song, hopes that this ‘visitor’ gains a deeper understanding of who she is before taking their friendship or relationship one step further.

Speaking of relationships and ‘tripping’ on people, there’s the album’s lead single “Down to Zero”, where Alyssa raps and sings about not being able to get her ex out of her mind and wanting to rekindle their obviously fractured relationship (“I just need you to know that you’ve been on my mind / Ever since the second we decided to break the bond”). SV’s instrumental perfectly sets the melancholy tone of the song with its somber piano keys and light snares and synth notes in the background.  The hook is well thought out, as Alyssa flips the “ready or not” kid’s game into a heartfelt plea that not only will her ex be close by when she finishes her count from ten to zero, but she’ll be capable of finding him before he’s considered ‘lost’. If I have one gripe with “Down to Zero”, I felt it deserved a second verse, given how exceptionally well-written this song was.

The album’s final leg begins with “How it’s Made” and “If You Been Bad” where Alyssa picks herself up from the lows she’s been experiencing on this record thus far. The former track features a droning ambient beat laced with boom-bap drums and a pitch-shifted vocal chop. Alyssa puts this beat to great use as she reduces her self-loathing and regains her confidence through some much-deserved self-affirmation. Her opening lines establish the mindset she’s in at this stage on the album: “Sympathetic to the ones before you / They got a side of me I can never undo / Had to pick up the slack to be something / Now I’m working overtime to deliver my cool”. And throughout this song, she’s boastful with her bars, vulnerable with her emotions and grateful for the support she’s received from her fans and loved ones during the mentally tumultuous times in her life.

We then get what is my opinion the BEST SONG on this record: “If You Been Bad”. SV’s production has a distinctly dramatic flair to it, as if I’m  hearing a spacey, boom-bap version of a spaghetti western theme composed by the late, great Ennio Morricone (kids, ask your parents). Alyssa delivers what is essentially a therapy session on wax, with these freestyle-like raps centered on how her music has helped her cope with mental, emotional and even spiritual loss over the years. The second verse shows a startling amount of growth on the record, as Alyssa mentions the recent support she gave to her father and acknowledges the creative medium of music as a true blessing in her life. And yet near the end of the song, she shows awareness of how easy it is to slip back into the darkness, breaking hearts and burning bridges in the process (“Staying out of trouble cuz the karma’s active”).

With the inspirational highs given by those two tracks, I guess it’s fitting that “Neo Phily” concludes on a dour note with “Slow Motion”. I say ‘guess’ because while a part of me wishes we got a brighter, optimistic ending to the record – with Alyssa’s confidence back up and her life back on track – the reality is that life itself doesn’t play out like that. Try as we may, there will be moments of uncertainty, pain and stress that will inevitably pop up after the moments of joy, happiness and peace of mind. And I have to applaud Alyssa and SV for concluding their project with that harsh truth in mind. SV saves his most somber instrumental for last with a beat consisting of frail, disenchanted piano keys, amplified quite effectively by vinyl crackle.  As the title suggests, Alyssa finds herself moving in slow motion thanks to the “creeping” demons she’s been addressing and fighting throughout the record.  Like the equally distressing “Down to Zero”, this is another track where I felt a second verse was absolutely needed. With its near-minute and 45 second runtime, making it the shortest track on the album, “Slow Motion” feels more like a ‘To be Continued’ than a ‘The End’. But maybe that’s the point. It’s not supposed to be the end of this neophilic journey. There’ll be more pain and struggles to endure on this path but there’ll also be more blessings and achievements to be had on it as well. In other words, this Neo Phily story is still being written, and each page begins with one step forward.

Overall, “Neo Phily” is yet another top-quality album from Jim’s Pool Room Records and a thoroughly entertaining project from Alyssa Jane and SV. It’s also a remarkably cohesive record, thanks to the seamless blending of SV’s mood-inducing instrumentals and Alyssa’s reflective lyrics and heartfelt vocal performances. Creatively, the sky’s the limit for these two and I can’t wait to hear what they put out next!

OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10

Now available on Spotify and neophily.com

BBB RADIO S04E11 – Outside Interference (Album Review), We Were the Lucky Ones (Episodes 1 – 3), Freaknik: The Wildest Party Never Told, X-Men ’97 (Episodes 1 – 3), Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire

In this week’s episode, we review the collaborative album by Trinidadian rapper Micwise and Virginia producer/rapper Hard2see entitled “Outside Interference”, the first three episodes of the Hulu miniseries “We Were the Lucky Ones”, the Hulu documentary feature “Freaknik: The Wildest Party Never Told”, the first three episodes of the highly-anticipated Marvel Animation series “X-Men ’97” and the newest MonsterVerse feature “Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire”. We also pay respect to the late, great Louis Gossett Jr. and Chance Perdomo.

LISTEN TO THE FULL EPISODE HERE

ALBUM REVIEW: C.W. Franz – Solo Again

Previously on “Solo”: “On a surface level, it is admittedly a collection of mostly-incomplete song ideas that, most likely, were fleshed out into complete, released songs. But as a rare, emotional look into C.W.’s creative process, “Solo” delivers!”

That, of course, was the conclusion to my 2022 review of C.W. Franz’s record “Solo”, whose “one-man show” approach to its material was subsequently replicated on his 2023 albums “The Cubensis Session” and “A C.W. Franz Christmas”. This month in particular has been a rather busy and creative one for C.W., with the releases of three generative music projects – the latter being the carefully considered yet immediate “Four Generative Quarter Tone Pieces” – and his provocatively political album “American Republic in Crisis”. Now he caps off the first half of March with the surprise sequel to “Solo”, aptly titled “Solo Again”.

Unlike its predecessor, which was basically a collection of loose demos that may or may not become fully fleshed-out songs later on in C.W.’s discography (more on that later), “Solo Again” has a clear, specific throughline. And despite the stream-of-consciousness approach to the songwriting and spur-of-the-moment approach to the instrumentation, there is a genuinely strong theme holding this album’s five tracks together.

The theme in question is human connection, specifically the bond between family, friends and lovers. The throughline, however, is how C.W. deals with both sudden and eventual disconnections from previous romantic partners and, to a lesser extent, friends and family. Replacing his Texaco Oil Can-o-Caster from “Solo” with a custom acoustic cigar box tenor guitar, C.W. ruminates on the failed relationships that continue to fuel his music while constantly reminding himself that everything, good and bad, will inevitably conclude.

The opening track “Nothing’s Promised” brilliantly sets up the album’s appropriately somber tone. There’s a slight intensity to C.W.’s strumming during the song’s slow yet soothing build-up. Around the 3:10 mark, C.W. officially kicks off the song itself, delivering his vocals in the soft, hushed register he clearly favors when working on his string-based musical compositions. The album’s theme is set up through a few harsh truths C.W. drops on the fleeting nature of life (“Go in for a check-up, and you go under / Start your retirement, and your heart gave out”). After a roughly minute-long period of moderate strumming, C.W. sets up the album’s throughline with the disheartening and incredibly relatable final verse (“Lovecan fall by the wayside too / Even if you’re careful, that sad sack might be you / At some point”).

The following track “Northern California Blues” features the most self-aware lyrical moment on the record. Around the 2:10 mark when the song begins, C.W. opens it with what is clearly a reference to his existing discography (“I sung similar blues over the years / Well now I’m gonna sing ‘em again”). Additionally, this song features the second instance of California (“Images of the Northern California sun got me down”) as the first line of “Nothing’s Promised” also mentions the “California sun”.

Perhaps California is where this relationship ended, and though we aren’t given any information on what happened, we are given ideas on how C.W. approached that relationship and dealt with the outcome. He genuinely wanted to be there for this person and not solely base their partnership on his needs being met. Between two passages of turbulent strumming, we get the final verse which suggests that C.W’s dissatisfaction in the outcome of the relationship resulted in him turning his back on some of his loved ones who probably saw the end coming before he did.

The inevitability of the end is explored in the next track “The Oregon Trail” whose title isn’t in relation to the actual Oregon Trail but the VIDEO GAME of the same name! Leave it to C.W. to put me on to a game I didn’t even know existed! Anyway, there’s an odd, unexpected sense of humor to the song’s opening lines (“Played the Oregon Trail the other day / Still remember the Apple II in third grade”). But then as the song progresses, you realize that he’s using the game as a metaphorical setup to describe yet another failed relationship.

Incorporating the strategy-based gameplay of “The Oregon Trail”, C.W. establishes a farm, buys and hunts for food and keeps a party of settlers safe from danger. And in one couplet near the tail end of the second verse, he gives a brief description of how that ‘level’ played out (“Didn’t go so well / Everyone in the party died”). But it’s the last line that’s the most intriguing and ambiguous. C.W. sings “But you weren’t among the names”, suggesting that either his ex in this scenario had already left him or wasn’t there amongst the party of settlers in the first place. In other words, he played by the rules and still lost the game.

We then get the most revealing and emotionally moving track on the album: “Elliot”. Right out of the gate – lyrically, that is – we get this brief, unequivocally romantic introduction to this particular story (“We met, two strangers / Through the ether / Tryin’ to right our ships”). From here, C.W. describes the empathy his ex had towards his ailing father even though his parents mistreated him in the past. Also, the “small hints as to his misery” he gives his father alludes to the first verse of “Nothing’s Promised”.

On the second verse, he sings about how the judgment of his friends and family (perhaps the ones he turned his back on in “Northern California Blues”) towards C.W.’s former partner added to the strain their relationship was already undergoing. When the relationship itself comes to an end on the next verse, C.W. ponders whether he was the root cause of its failure or if his parents told him to end it. And yet on the final verse, he wishes him all the best and moves on. There’s a nice bit of alliteration in that verse when he sings “Deciphering signs for the silent”. Despite the downer of a conclusion this song contains, its final three bars are admittedly sweet, heartwarming and optimistic (“Fill up your cup / Show love / Let it worry about the rest”). As a whole, it’s a true album highlight and one that I imagine will leave some listeners teary-eyed.

And speaking of the “collection of loose demos that may or may not become fully fleshed-out songs” I mentioned earlier with my brief take on “Solo”, “Solo Again” concludes with a demo that BECAME a fully fleshed-out song! “Red Dress”, which kicked off the album centerpiece “Red Dress / Bad Bill of Goods / Better Than / Red Dress Revisited”, is now re-interpreted from what I STILL assume is a commentary on socio-economic change to a heartbreaking look at post-breakup regrets. The vocal melody and establishing verse are different from what we heard on “Solo”, and we’re treated to an actual storyline centered on the lead character with the titular ‘red dress’.

What holds this version back, however, is the noticeable flaw in its recording. If you’re familiar with C.W.’s home recordings, you’ll easily realize that he recorded this album at the “Orange Diamond Studios”. But there are a few moments in this track where you can hear indiscernible voices outside, most likely from a TV. I really wish C.W. re-recorded this track when the area was quieter but I guess, like the one-man show “Solo” was, he was creatively ‘in the moment’ at the time of this recording.

Anyhoo, on “Red Dress”, we get a sense of the painful heartache he’s enduring, sparked by the revelation that his ex left him for her old boyfriend. He desires some sort of reconciliation but doesn’t think it’s worth the risk, as he states at the end of the second verse (“Wish I could’ve made the five-hour drive, but that would’ve been too much”). Interestingly, C.W sings on the fourth verse about how his ex, at the time they were together, was reasonable towards his inner demons and flaws. 

Now I could be wrong, but I assume this is a reference to his “C.W. Franz VII” record which was centered on trying to move forward into a new relationship from a dark past. The line “on a place filled with charlatans and liars” may very well be the “Devil Town” C.W. sang about in the Daniel Johnston cover that opened the album. The final couplet of that verse finds him picking himself back up, wishing his ex all the best and moving forward yet again (“I still appreciate what you did / And I hope you think of me once in a while”). The cycle of loneliness starts all over, bringing a sad conclusion to the album.

Ultimately, “Solo Again” is an effectively poignant follow-up to its predecessor with heartfelt lyrics, stirring instrumentation and thematic resonance. Though it isn’t designed to answer its underlying existential questions regarding the transience of life and human connection, the message one should take from this record is how these unforeseen disconnections can shape us into becoming better people. But to get to those realizations, we need to be by ourselves and with ourselves. And in the case of this “Solo” duology of records, it doesn’t hurt to have a musical instrument nearby.

OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10

Now available on Bandcamp

ALBUM REVIEW – Dookie Bros – Happy Dook Year

For my first album review of 2024, I’ll be covering my first album listen of 2024: the newest record from Canadian rap duo Dookie Bros – “Happy Dook Year”! For those who forgot the first two paragraphs of my “Merry Shitmas” review from last December, Dookie Bros consists of rapper/producer/boom-bap torchbearer Shy The BeatYoda and fellow rapper Franchise.

Last year, they dropped three solid (Get it? Dropped…..solid) EPs in the forms of “Manure Music Vols. 1 & 2” and “Merry Shitmas”, the latter of which not only made it to my Top 10 bracket of BEST ALBUMS OF 2023 but stands as a shining example of Christmas-themed rap music done right! And like “Merry Shitmas”, “Happy Dook Year” is a 21-minute record with production handled entirely by Shy, no guest features and its thematic focus centered on a particular occasion. In this case, it’s about….well…..starting off the new year right. As we all should know, it’s always beneficial to go into the new year with some sort of hope, faith and optimism, even if you don’t have a clear idea of everything you’ll be doing in the new year or you’re still hung up on the losses you dealt with the year before.

And that’s the exact vibe Dookie Bros brings to the table, resulting in a project that sounds and feels more mature and focused in tone compared to “Merry Shitmas”. Now that the Christmas season is over and Mariah Carey is cryogenically frozen until November 1st, a new year has started and it’s time for the Dookie Bros to execute their game plan. Franchise and Shy sound so hungry and laser-focused on this album that even their penchant for raunchy humour is dialed back a considerable bit.

From the opening track “The Dream Team’, Dookie Bros sound determined to establish their names as one of hip hop’s greatest duos. Interestingly, it uses a snippet from an old WWF promo for the tag team The Dream Team – and as a professional wrestling fan myself, I did appreciate that bit of schooling into the awesomeness that was Greg Valentine and Brutus Beefcake. Periodically on the record, we hear snippets of WWF promos with wrestlers either doing hyped-up tough-talk or expressing how fired up they are for starting a new year in their legendary careers. The instrumental for “The Dream Team” features an 80s-inspired electric guitar solo laced with leisured drums, which altogether sounds like a boom-bap reinterpretation of a classic wrestling entrance theme. Shy comes through with some solid punchlines, most of which include pop culture references (points for that “Moonraker” bar, by the way)  and Franchise compliments him with an exceptionally written and performed verse.

The heat turns up on the following track “The Real Dookie”. Just to touch on that title for a bit, its hook, like “The Dream Team”, involves a short succession of DJ cuts, but the Notorious B.I.G. sample used in it was always one of those things I never noticed on that specific song (I’m not going to say which one) until hearing it on this track! But anyway, over an upbeat, punchy mix of piano keys and drums, Franchise and Shy SPAZZ THE SHIT OUT, each delivering a VERSE OF THE YEAR CONTENDER!! Yes, you read it first!

Both the vocal chops added to the opening of “Flush ‘Em Down” and the hook provided by Franchise are sure to please many Public Enemy fans as this song cleverly interpolates the 1991 classic “Shut ‘Em Down” – which, in case you didn’t know, has one of the GREATEST Pete Rock remixes attached to it (If you haven’t listened to it, please do. You might need a neck brace after listening to it, however. Don’t say I didn’t warn you)! In this case, Dookie Bros share their heightened frustration over the depths some rappers would stoop to to get their music noticed and appreciated, particularly by adopting a rugged, gun-toting and drug-dealing persona. On his verse in particular, Shy warns these funk-fakers to not approach him at all, whether on wax or in real life.

Sonically, the next track “Dope Shit” is sure to please fans of coke rap, specifically the Daringer-produced songs regularly released from Griselda Records, thanks to its menacing piano chords, clinking percussion in the back of the mix that sounds like a certain something is being mixed in a jar with a spoon (if you know, you know) and a cleverly-chosen Westside Gunn vocal sample. Thankfully, Dookie Bros are self-aware enough NOT to do an actual coke rap song, since they already called out certain rappers for copying and pasting that drug-dealing lifestyle into their rhymes. As the title suggests, they’re simply informing the listener that their lyrics alone are DOPE. However, they’re just as addictive as actual dope because once you hear their 16’s, you’ll most likely come out of this song wishing you got a third verse!

Up next, we get “The Missile Launcher II”, the official sequel to a track that appeared on their debut record “When the Shit Hits The Fan”. Vocally and instrumentally, both tracks exhibit a grimy, Demigodz-esque, lyrical beatdown vibe. Surprisingly enough, this sequel plays like a literal reflection of its predecessor, where Franchise spits his verse first, ta vocal chop is used that’s similar but not the exact one used in the previous “Missile Launcher”, and Shy raps over the mellower instrumental (this is a two-beat song, by the way) while Franchise gets the aggressive one to do his thing. Both songs are fire, but in the case of “The Missile Launcher II”, this feels like a solid entry in what could be a “Missile Launcher” series spanning future Dookie Bros albums.

The album winds down with its lead single “I Luh This Shit” (not luv, mind you…. LUH!) where Dookie Bros express their love for hip hop over a smooth boom-bap instrumental. On his verse, Franchise draws inspiration from classic “I Love hip hop” songs like “I Used to Love H.E.R.” and “Act Too (The Love of my Life)” as he uses a woman he’s attracted to as a metaphor to describe the passion he feels for rap music. Shy takes a more personal approach to this topic by mentioning the sacrifices he’s made for his rap career and how he has no plans on throwing in the towel anytime soon. In short, “I Luh This Shit” is anthemic, inspirational and tailor-made for true hip hop fans like myself!

And with the closing track “The Greatest Story Ever Told”, Dookie Bros deliver what is in my opinion the best SONG on this album and one of their best songs PERIOD! There’s a sense of gracefulness and beauty to Shy’s beat, with its sentimental piano chords and laid-back drums. But it’s the sentiment of the song that stands out the most. Here, Franchise and Shy close their album off strongly with some truly heartfelt bars centered on their continued steps towards rap immortality, writing their own story as they trod on this chosen path of theirs.

Overall, “Happy Dook Year” is yet another solid entry into the already-impressive discography of Dookie Bros! Shy and Franchise’s hunger and drive are palpable throughout this album’s 7-track duration, heightened further by their razor-sharp wordplay and emotionally-driven instrumentals. For me, they certainly kicked off this year on a strong note and here’s hoping theirs is filled with great accomplishments and tons and tons of dookie!

OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10

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ALBUM REVIEW: C.W. Franz – Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending

A few months ago on my podcast, I reviewed the surrealist dark comedy “Beau is Afraid”, the third feature film from writer/director Ari Aster, best known for “Hereditary” and “Midsommar”, two of the best horror films of the past decade. Easily one of the most divisive movies of 2023, “Beau is Afraid” follows the journey of Beau Wasserman (played brilliantly by “Joker” and “Napoleon” himself Joaquin Phoenix) from the crime-riddled city he calls home to the estate where his mother’s funeral is being held. Along the way, his over-heightened anxiety and paranoia are challenged in a series of bizarre, terrifying and oddly humorous scenarios. Though I came out of the film perplexed by its strangeness and disappointed at the character growth of Beau (this isn’t a spoiler per se, but he is LITERALLY AFRAID throughout the entire film), I admired the effort put into making me FEEL the fears, real and imaginary, Beau faces and endures.

I bring this up – just in case you thought you were actually reading a movie review – because I couldn’t help but think of that film with every spin I gave “Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending”, the newest record from Chicago singer/producer/multi-instrumentalist C.W. Franz. Like his March-released album “American Darkness”, cited in the album’s Bandcamp liner notes as ‘the closest reference point’, “Alpha and Omega” is inspired by current events which clearly left C.W. feeling uneasy. Stylistically, it draws inspiration from the idiosyncratic Houston lo-fi folk singer Jandek and English experimental music group Current 93, the latter of whom is associated with neofolk or apocalyptic folk.

And on the surface, “Alpha and Omega” feels apocalyptic. It’s as if we’re hearing the whispered (more on that in a bit) ramblings of a man waiting for the end of the world to occur. The music, performed in a raw, stripped-down fashion by C.W. through the use of his trusty custom soprano cigar box guitar, sounds bleak and haunting. But underneath it all, and this is why I kept thinking about “Beau if Afraid”, this album effectively articulates the fear of both the inside and outside world.

C.W., or at least the Jandek and Current 93-inspired ‘character’ he plays on this record, is afraid of both death and life. He knows he’ll eventually die so the fear of death is natural in a sense, but he also seems scared of taking chances, accomplishing goals and handling responsibilities in his existing life. Through a series of fragmented spoken word passages, he references those who faced death or faced some insurmountable odd and ponders on how their lives and deaths impacted the world he’s afraid to face. And while it’s easy for C.W. on this album to stay hidden in the abyss he calls his comfort zone, staying there for too long can become terrifying to someone who’s constantly afraid.

Getting into the main flaw of “Alpha and Omega”, I felt that bits of C.W.’s hushed vocals were inaudible on some of the album’s eight tracks. Given the frightening and frightened nature of the record, C.W.’s delivery is totally justified, but a tweak or two to the mixing of his vocals would have made them sound clearer and more tonally effective. Thankfully, this is a Bandcamp exclusive and as such, lyrics are provided for each song. And for me, the key to understanding this record – or at least coming up with your interpretation of it – lie in these lyrics.

On the opening track “I. An Entrance”, where the groundwork of the album is instantly established through C.W.’s skeletal guitar strums and manic microtones, we hear this lyrical rumination on the realization, sudden for some, that we’re all destined to die. In the second verse, C.W. references a section of the classic John McCrae poem “In Flanders Fields”, a eulogy to the soldiers who died in Belgium and France during World War I. The following track “II. Inklings of Nihil” finds C.W. pondering on the bold actions and decisions made by figures both historical like Shadrach and Abednego (Meshach isn’t mentioned) who, in the biblical Book of Daniel, were untouched by the flames of Nebuchadnezzar II’s furnace that they were cast to, or ordinary like those who died without fully grasping God’s redemptive power. 

As simple as it is, the chord progression that drives “III. Hymn for the Corrupted” is one that’ll stay with me for a LONG while. I really enjoyed how the instrumentation became less skeletal and more melodic around the midpoint of the track, and then skeletal again near the end. Lyrically, C.W. continues his philosophical thoughts on God by examining the image of the Holy Ghost and the fear His presence brings to the sinful. On “IV: An Omen”, the longest track on the album, C.W. shifts his focus to humanity and the beliefs we hold on to in order to justify our existence in a cold and cruel world. The song opens with the ceremonial-like use of a Tibetan singing bowl, which actually brings a sense of respite to the tension built on the album at that point. After that, we’re treated to a disquieting soundscape supported by some dark, existential lyrics which add up to arguably the album’s most haunting song and one of the most haunting compositions C.W. has ever released.

The mood gets bleaker on “V: The Failed Acolyte”, a song that, given its subject matter, instantly brought to mind his compelling, Holy Thursday-released project “The First Eschaton”. And thematically, C.W.’s profound look at the significance behind Jesus’ crucifixion on Good Friday would’ve fit perfectly in that album’s 25-minute suite “Trial of the Nazarene / Golgotha / The First Eschaton”. If “IV: An Omen” is the album’s most haunting song, “V: The Failed Acolyte” is its creepiest. From the way its instrumentation plays uninterrupted for roughly 2 minutes before C.W. even utters a word to the way C.W. himself recites this spoken word passage in a dry, sardonic type of way. And DON’T get me started on the melodies that play after the song’s final line! If you scare easy, this song is DEFINITELY for you!

The album’s final leg begins with the interlude “VI: An Entrance Revisited”, a music-free interlude which reiterates the opening track’s main theme of being born into death. As C.W. states, the moment we’re conceived, we enter this dark world, and if we stayed a day longer in our mother’s womb, our entry into this world would’ve been more problematic. In other words, we’re all forced out of our respective comfort zone to face the world – inevitably – on our own. C.W. adds an extra layer of irony to that realization on “VII. Ineffable Enigma” where, after a brief instrumental passage, he says in Greek “The light is on, but it is dark in here”.

C.W. saves his most philosophical piece for last with the final track “VIII: An Exit”. Here, he imparts some words of wisdom to those who’re scared to go out, face the world and live life to the fullest. He informs us that there’ll be moments that will change us, and we oftentimes wish we could’ve changed the outcomes of some of them. And then he drops the missing piece of the puzzle which encompasses this album: “Permanence is a fallacy”, which is indeed true even though we hate to admit that. As the world changes, you too will change, and when we do confront the fears that hold us back, we’ll be changed. The instrumentation presented on this track sounds immensely relaxed, dissipating the album’s built-up tension in the process. There’s a moment near the end of C.W.’s spoken word piece where he says “Come in, the tea is boiling. We have a lot to discuss, my grandson”, which I interpreted as a reminder of how the older generation can impart much-needed advice to us on life and its peaks and valleys. But keep in mind that even though you’re invited to come inside, you’re not supposed to STAY inside for the rest of your life. Eventually, you have to take these teachings and put them to practice OUTSIDE, as suggested in C.W’s final quatrain. Bringing the song and album to a satisfyingly relieved close is a single strike to the Tibetan singing bowl, signifying the end of the terror.

On its Bandcamp page, “Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending” is described as being “not for the faint of heart or spirit”. And I must say, C.W. is absolutely right! It’s certainly darker than… well… “American Darkness”, although I still think “C.W. Franz VI” is his darkest work yet. But this album comes at a close second thanks to its chilling meditations on life, death and the ironies and hypocrisies in-between, and the relentlessly sparse, discordant and unnerving use of the custom soprano cigar box guitar that, dare I say it, I can imagine hearing in the soundtrack of an actual horror film! It’s THAT effective! Like “American Darkness”, it’s a challenging listen and one that will leave an impact on you long after you’ve heard it. And if you manage to “survive the night”, you’ll be rewarded with the encouragement to confront the fears that cripple us to the point of not wanting to live our own lives. Long story short, “Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending” is certainly worth checking out – and it’s worth listening to at night as well. Thank me later on that one, if you survive, that is!

OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10

Now available on Bandcamp