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
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