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: 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: C.W. Franz – American Republic in Crisis

“Remember, remember, the 5^th of November”. It’s both funny and ironic that the first line of an old British folk verse about the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 – now etched into pop culture thanks to 2005’s “V for Vendetta”, one of the best dystopian films ever made – will now be associated with the 2024 United States presidential election. I will confess that, at the time I’m writing this review, I’m marginally aware of the developments in this upcoming election between current President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump. The bits of information my brain receives are courtesy of CNN, which my news-loving father and older brother tune into on brief intervals. And I speak as a non-American when I say this: when this election takes place, the ENTIRE WORLD will take notice!

C.W. Franz, who’s tackled a wide variety of concepts in his music over the near four-year period I’ve covered his work – devotes the entirety of his latest album “American Republic in Crisis” to that election. Stylistically, it’s similar to 2023’s “Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending” where C.W., inspired by events that left him unsettled, delivered an apocalyptic folk album centered on death, its inevitability and the bravery – or lack thereof – of facing it. And in a way, you can picture this project as the third in a series of albums inspired by unsettling current events, the first being “American Darkness” which was released early last year. But what makes “American Republic in Crisis” the most ambitious – and dare I say, most provocative – of this unofficial series is the use of archival sound recordings of various American presidents.

And this leads to the “dire warning” – as advertised on the liner notes of its Bandcamp page – C.W. gives on this record. A physical war, not a digital one between keyboard warriors and quite possibly a CIVIL one (more on that later on), will inevitably arise following the outcome of this election. And drawing from America’s internal and external wartime history, C.W. believes that – to quote the age-old axiom – history will repeat itself.

Additionally, C.W. makes it clear in the liner notes that this album is “a difficult release, not for everyone, but every civically-minded American should hear it”. And yes, I can imagine a LOT of people dismissing the idea of a potential post-election war, whether they’re Democrat or Republican, peace-loving or confrontational, American or non-American. But I can also imagine a lot of Americans sensing that a fuse has already been lit and the powder keg associated with it is set to explode on the night of November 5^th. At this time, because I have to actually review this album, I will say this in terms of whether I believe a civil war is inevitable or not: the attack on the U.S. Capitol Building DID happen. January 6^th 2021, during Biden’s presidential transition, to be exact.

“American Republic in Crisis” kicks off with “The Gerontocracy”, the title of which is a vicious critique of the current ages of both Trump and Biden and how misguided their decisions are and will be in regards to governing the United States. After a quick vocal snippet (“Liberty Bell!”) followed by a field recording of a Liberty Bell replica being rung in Denver, C.W. sets the dark, apocalyptic tone of the record using his trusty custom soprano cigar box guitar. By the track’s 6 1/2 -minute standards, C.W.’s vocals take a pretty long while to appear, which they eventually do around the 3:40 mark. In the same hushed, half-sung, half-recited vocal delivery he exhibited on “Alpha and Omega: Beginning and Ending”, he rips apart any and every expectation that America will be “great again” after November 5^th with lyrics drenched in bitter criticism (“Gerontocracy is the only outcome / Demonic or well-meaning, both aged”, “Follow the scent of misleading snouts”).

The next track “If You Can Keep It” is the first on this record to incorporate an archival sound recording. In this case, it’s the “Progressive Covenant with the People” speech from Theodore Roosevelt. Unless you’re familiar with that speech, I highly recommend that you visit the Library of Congress’ website where that audio recording and its transcription are available. The clip used on this track ends with Theodore saying:

Behind the ostensible government sits enthroned an invisible government owing no allegiance and acknowledging no responsibility to the people. To destroy this invisible government, to befoul the unholy alliance between corrupt business and corrupt politics is the first task of the statesmanship of the day.

In the context of this song, it’s suggested that there is an invisible government who’s been pulling the strings for decades, deciding who becomes President and caring less about how voters feel about the outcome. C.W. opens the song with the line “Red Lion….look it up!”. And so said, so done, I looked it up!! According to Spiritualdesk.com (always remember to cite your sources of info, fellow writers), “red lions are associated with strength, power, and courage, as well as passions, desires, and motivation in reaching one’s dreams and goals”.

But the following line “There used to be equal time” suggests that the Red Lion of this song relates to a famous 1969 U.S. Supreme Court case – Red Lion Broadcasting Co. v FCC – where the FCC’s Fairness Doctrine (radio and TV broadcasters must present a balanced and fair discussion of public issues on the airwaves) was brought into question. After some creepy micro-tuning at the tail end of the second verse, C.W. requests that the “heirs of the Sons of Liberty” should be thrown “into the River Charles”. My interpretation of that line is that the legacy of the Sons of Liberty is long-forgotten at this point, and their heirs (whether by blood or belief) gave up in the fight for liberty. Through C.W.’s logic, nothing has been done to improve the lives of the modern American citizen.

Up next, we’re treated to the two-parter “Bellum Americanum”, Latin for…you guessed it…..”American War”. Part 1 opens with a clip of actor Fritz Klein playing the role of Abraham Lincoln and delivering the now-iconic Gettysburg address in its entirety. But it’s the final line of that address C.W. clearly wants us to hear and remember before he starts strumming his guitar:

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth

Lyrically, this is the album’s most dense and cryptic song, as C.W. examines the dog-eat-dog and dog-FEEDS-dog (The lines “The vertebrates become encephalopods” and “Sabertooths without fangs”, for example, are verbal jabs at most, if not all, Republicans) structure of American society. It also serves as a nightmarish setup of this “American War” (even the final moment of C.W.’s strumming sounds nightmarish), with Part 1 representing the fuse and Part 2, the powder keg.  

Speaking of Part 2, “Bellum Americanum II” opens with the actual recording of the famous Franklin D. Roosevelt speech “Four Freedoms”. Unlike the full speech used in Part 1, this recording stops at the third of the four fundamental freedoms listed by Roosevelt: the Freedom from Want (“economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants—everywhere in the world”). The last one, however, is Freedom from Fear (“a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor—anywhere in the world”). Was this purposefully left out of this track? More on that later on!

It’s remarkable how bleak C.W.’s string-based soundscapes get with every passing track and on “Bellum Americanum II”, it’s no different. Lyrically, he touches on the current American War of Democrats vs Republicans / Biden vs Trump and how, at this moment, media is the most effective weapon being used. In the second verse, he mentions the negative impression this battle has left on the social, racial and economic identity of the average American citizen. He closes the song with a lyrical middle finger – and some microtuning added for good measure – to the media and its ‘selective’ attitude towards serious matters concerning the election.  

At this point, the archival speeches used on this album were delivered during an American War and, in the case of Roosevelt, before a World War. On the penultimate track “Locke, Paine, and Rousseau Weep:  Hobbes Just Shakes His Head” – the title of which references French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, author of “The Social Contract”, English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, and English-born, American Founding Fathers Thomas Paine and John Locke – opens with the inaugural address from John F. Kennedy, delivered roughly two years before his assassination. The clip, which consists of the last section of that speech, ends with arguably its biggest takeaway: “Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country”.

Compared to what we’ve heard before on the album, the strings on this track sounds significantly somber. And on the subject of “The Social Contract” (“only the general will of the people has the right to legislate, for only under the general will can the people be said to obey only themselves and hence be free”), he states on the first verse that if it fails, the “only option lies anarchy or suicide”.  And here is where the powder keg finally explodes and America is at war (“sister against brother”, “lover against lover”). During the song’s haunting final seconds, C.W. slows down his strumming, sings in an almost exasperated manner “Our history will be nothing!”, pauses for a bit and concludes with “Burning… it… down”.

Like “The Gerontocracy”, the album closer “Bloody Potomac Stomp” doesn’t start with a speech, but it does end with one. Before that speech, we’re treated to an instrumental – just as dark and bleak as the music which preceded it – that might as well be used as background music to a movie scene where this civil war (hence the title and C.W.’s “dire warning”) is seconds away from starting. The speech itself is the inaugural address from Dwight D. Eisenhower (the echo chamber effect of the recording makes this track sound even more ominous), and the excerpt used is the first part of this speech, where he delivers this prayer:

Almighty God, as we stand here at this moment my future associates in the executive branch of government join me in beseeching that Thou will make full and complete our dedication to the service of the people in this throng, and their fellow citizens everywhere.

Give us, we pray, the power to discern clearly right from wrong, and allow all our words and actions to be governed thereby, and by the laws of this land. Especially we pray that our concern shall be for all the people regardless of station, race, or calling. May cooperation be permitted and be the mutual aim of those who, under the concepts of our Constitution, hold to differing political faiths; so that all may work for the good of our beloved country and Thy glory. Amen.

Where this album truly shines is how it encapsulates the fear of the inevitable and logical outcome of the presidential election laid out by C.W., replacing its far-fetched first impression with concrete evidence based on American history. And as someone who wasn’t entirely invested in the Trump v Biden rematch, I now find myself genuinely concerned with its resolution and expected reverberations on the world itself (see Roosevelt’s “The Freedom of Fear”). From a thematic and tonal perspective, this record is indeed a “difficult” record to sit through, but given its subject material, that’s to be expected. And yet C.W. keeps things engaging with his lyrical and instrumental performances, and leaves the floor open to much-needed discussion thanks to his references to historical facts from the past and present. As his first true political album, “American Republic in Crisis” is a bold addition to his already-versatile discography. Will there be another? I guess we’ll see as the road to November 5^th winds down. And speaking of November 5^th, while the abovementioned Gunpowder Plot verse may pop up in the discourse surrounding the election, I do hope Eisenhower’s prayer is brought up as well.

OVERALL RATING: 8 out of 10

Now available on Bandcamp

ALBUM REVIEW: C.W. Franz – A C.W. Franz Christmas

Ahh, the Christmas album. Amidst the overwhelming hustle-and-bustle leading up to December 25th, I always make time to seek out new and old albums dedicated to Christmas. Usually, I’m not picky when it comes to genres. I’d listen to a horrorcore album about Krampus scaring the bejesus out of kids who were naughty for a large majority of the year, provided that the beats slap and the lyrics are dope! But all jokes aside, Christmas albums are designed to help set the mood for… well… Christmas, and if done right, remind us of why this time of the year is so wonderful, as Andy Williams eloquently stated back in 1963. As we get older, we can find ourselves feeling jaded, depressed and cynical every time December hits. And sometimes the realities of life hit us so hard, it’s almost difficult to find some sort of joy during the Yuletide season. But that’s why we need the Christmas song – old, new, covered a billion times, untouched or even parody – to remind us that there is, to borrow an old phrase, a ‘reason for the season’.

C.W. Franz, a regular on this blog, decided to throw his Santa hat into the ring and produce a Christmas album of his own. Simply titled “A C.W. Franz Christmas”, this record plays out like a Christmas TV special headlined by a musical artiste. Like “Solo” and “The Cubensis Session”, C.W. adopts a one-man show approach to this album, so if you were expecting a “Mariah Carey’s Magical Christmas Special”-type experience, you’ll be severely disappointed!

Similar to “The Cubensis Session”, you can tell C.W. is drawing inspiration from John Fahey, Robbie Basho and Sandy Bull’s TV performances, in terms of the album’s informal tone, hushed pre-song introductions and light vocal deliveries. But what surprised me the most about “A C.W. Franz Christmas” was the lack of instruments used in this production. Recorded over a two-day period in his basement dubbed the Orange Diamond Studios (where his “8/14/2021” and “06/04/2022” jam session records were recorded in), C.W. uses three instruments: a Casio SA-76 keyboard, a moose hide drum and sleigh bells. Funny enough, the sleigh bells are used briefly in the opening and closing tracks, the drum is used briefly in one track and the Casio is used entirely in another. But the only prominent instrument on this album is C.W’s own voice.

Yes folks, what we have here is a mostly acapella album. And while I don’t generally seek out acapellas – unless I randomly feel the need to do a mashup track – it is quite refreshing to hear a Christmas album in the acapella sub-genre. Again, this is a one-man show, so Pentatonix this is not. But C.W. uses his singular presence to his advantage by creating this quaint, homely, ‘unplugged’ session where he shares his favorite Christmas songs with the listener. His vocal performances consistently match the informal tone of the album, all delivered in an unpolished yet casual and ordinary tone of voice. It’s as if you, the listener who may or may not be a professional singer, were singing a song to yourself or to someone else. 

“A C.W. Franz Christmas” opens and closes with some words from its host and includes brief introductions for each of its eight songs. It’s these non-sung moments that help create a sentimental and, in the case of the longest song on the album, empathic vibe. Perhaps it’s because I never had the reason to learn these carols by heart, but I’m marginally familiar with all the lyrics in this selection of carols hand-picked by C.W.  However, “Silent Night”, “O Come All Ye Faithful”, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”, “The First Noel”, “The Little Drummer Boy”, “O Christmas Tree” and “Feliz Navidad” are so universally recognized, they’re already ingrained into our psyche and interwoven into the music we hear during the Christmas holidays.

On a large chunk of the album, C.W. makes a rather bold choice of performing bite-sized renditions of these songs, sticking to the first and most recognizable verse of each one. It’s as if we’re hearing a medley but one that’s focused on a verse for each song and punctuated by brief verbal intermissions. On “Silent Night”, he sings the first verse twice, which is interesting because I do remember hearing versions of this song performed by well-known singers in the same way, oftentimes excluding the second and third (YES, there’s a third) verse.

There are two exceptions to this ‘one-verse rule’ where C.W. performs full versions of “The Little Drummer Boy” and “O Christmas Tree”. The former is actually his ‘favorite Christmas song’ and even without instrumentation, save for the abovementioned moose hide drum, you can hear the passion he feels for this hymn from start to finish. C.W.’s rendition of “O Christmas Tree” is sure to be a takeaway for many listeners as, in reference to his upbringing in Greek Orthodox Christianity, it’s performed entirely in Greek. And yet the vocal melody itself is timeless to the point that even if the song is performed in a different language, it still sounds delightful.

The penultimate track “The Hope of Peace Suite” is undoubtedly the most ‘C.W. Franz’ moment on the album. Played entirely with his Casio SA-76, C.W. performs an improvisational, six-section, roughly 12 ½ minute ambient piece inspired by the currently-ongoing Israel-Hamas War. In the opening section “Introduction”, C.W. introduces the piece and wisely omits any mention of what it’s about, leaving the job to the listener to interpret its message. Afterwards, we hear this surrealistic simulation of helicopter blades which, given this instrumental’s theme, I interpreted as both a helicopter surveying the Gaza Strip and its occupants preparing to launch an attack (Think of the iconic intro to Francis Ford Coppola’s Vietnam War masterpiece “Apocalypse Now”).

The second to sixth sections are entirely music-based with a brief bit of silence acting as an act break between each one. On “Encircling Gaza”, which utilizes a droning sound effect throughout its duration, C.W.’s chord progressions sound haunting and disheartening with every passing second. Though we get a substantially calmer melody on the opening of the next section “Desert Humors”, the sonic respite doesn’t last long as the notes sound more dramatic and intense (in its climax, the melody sounds like it’s spiraling out of control) near the end.

The second half of “The Hope of Peace Suite” begins with “Forsaken Ones”, which opens with these light, airy notes that sound thematically like the calm after the storm of the previous two sections. The preset applied to the instrumental itself creates this strange, melancholy aura. And when you pair that with the title, it becomes clear that this section is dedicated to the innocent Israelis and Palestinians who died during the war and their families who’re forced to move forward from their losses. The unfortunate reality of the war’s ongoing nature is reflected in “In Remainder”, where C.W. performs this short, eerie composition that sounds like the theme to some old-time thriller or horror film (thanks largely to the piano-like preset he uses in this section).

The suite concludes with “How One Reacts” which takes the haunting and intense moments of “Encircling Gaza” and “Desert Humors” respectively and combines them into a grand, climactic and slightly hopeful denouement. The title is quite ambiguous as the listener is left to ask the obvious questions: “Who is reacting?” and “Is this reaction justifiable?” Does the title relate to the back-and-forth attacks between Israel and Palestine after the terrifying events of October 7^th ? Or does it relate to the United States’ current response to the war? No answers are given.

Now I can imagine some listeners feeling confused or put off by the inclusion of this track in what’s supposed to be a joyous, heartwarming Christmas album. Honestly, if you’re familiar with C.W.’s work over the years, this album would’ve felt incomplete without some sort of ambient piece anyway! And to be fair, the song itself is far from disturbing or nightmarish. But to me, “The Hope of Peace Suite” gives this album a much-needed sense of timeliness. It’s so easy to immerse yourself into the traditionality of Christmas that we forget there are people the world over whose Christmas Day will be spent in anguish, fear and sadness. And in the case of the innocent citizens caught between this senseless war in the Gaza Strip, they’d be fortunate to celebrate the holidays in some way or form, even if it’s by singing a Christmas carol.

The sequencing of the last three songs is quite splendid, as we start with the Greek version of “O Christmas Tree”, continue with the “The Hope of Peace Suite” and end with the album’s final song, Jose Feliciano’s well-beloved “Feliz Navidad”. Even if you don’t know a lick of Spanish, you do know what “Feliz Navidad. Próspero año y Felicidad” means, or at least can sing it in a rhythmic way with or without the Latin pop instrumental playing in the background. And as C.W. reminds us in his brief rendition, it’s basically one verse – and a remarkably memorable one at that!

As a whole, “A C.W. Franz Christmas” is a sweet, simple and straightforward Yuletide album that celebrates the lasting power of the Christmas carol and the general power of music in lifting our spirits through the good and truly discouraging times. The simplicity and homegrown nature of the record clicked with me personally, as I couldn’t help but think of my occasional podcast recordings at home, usually punctuated by occasional, unavoidable external noises like dog barks or heavy footsteps. C.W. Franz fans will definitely appreciate and enjoy this project and connoisseurs of Christmas albums should seek this one out, especially those looking for something a little less ordinary.  Will the release of a Christmas album become an annual tradition for C.W. going forward? I highly doubt it. But like the memorable TV specials and albums dedicated to that ‘wonderful time of year’, “A C.W. Franz Christmas” is certainly worth revisiting.

OVERALL RATING: 7 out of 10

Now available on Bandcamp

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