Blues Run the Game –

Dialogue (I Want To Be Alone) –

Did I miss a week? Whoops! I actually got around to recording this track last Sunday, but I got so busy during the week that I never got around to writing about it (and as you can tell, I wanted to write quite a bit about this one) ^^;

The Complete Recordings (2015), Jackson C. Frank. Wow. Here’s a heavy one. There are plenty of haunting albums out there, but the work of Jackson C. Frank (as well as his life’s story) is truly one of hardship and depression. These songs are all taken from the beginning of Vol. 1, but there is also two more volumes included in this series.

Ever since I first heard Frank early this year, I’ve been captivated by his music and his story. He may have only released one self-titled album in 1965 during his career, but I feel like I still cannot possibly do justice to his story in this short blog. A life of serious ups and downs, tragedy first struck when he was merely 11 years olds when his school’s furnace exploded, killing 15 of his classmates and leaving him severely burned. While he would eventually recover, his scars would cause him a multitude of health problems for the rest of his life. This sorrowful beginning wouldn’t be without its triumphs though. He would be gifted his first guitar to help with his recovery in the hospital, get to meet his idol Elvis, and even be given an insurance payout for his injuries nearly equal to that of $1 million dollars in today’s money.

Frank would use that money to travel to England and join its booming folk movement of the mid-sixties. There he would meet and befriend Paul Simon (who had briefly moved there after the unsuccessful debut album with Garfunkel). Simon would go on to produce Frank’s only record Jackson C. Frank in 1965, and Al Stewart would even provide backup guitar on one of the tunes. The album would enjoy some minor success in England and go on to influence multiple songwriters from Simon, to Nick Drake, to Robin Pecknold from the Fleet Foxes, and even to Mark Lanegan from the Queens of the Stone Age. However, very little of the rest of Frank’s story is filled with much happiness.

Frank would splurge the rest of his insurance payoff and slip into deep depression. This was edged on by a prolonged writer’s block and the tragic death of his young son, eventually leading him to be institutionalized and diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. He would spend most of his life either in a mental institute or homeless, which did very little to help his worsening health conditions. He moved to New York in the hopes of finding the now successful Paul Simon and record a new album, but failed to find and meet up with him. While homeless there, he was shot and became blind in his left eye. A few years later in 1999 he would die of pneumonia; penniless and still without a home.

Now I know that’s a lot of info about the artist, but I feel like Frank’s folk blues have a more significant impact upon one’s listening experience if you have a deeper understanding of where he was coming from when he wrote and sung these songs. I included “Blues Run the Game”, not because it is easily his most famous, but because it perfectly encompasses the story of his life. From the line “catch a boat to England” to the ever present fact of Frank failing to run away from his life’s “blues.” “Dialogue” is an even more somber tune, giving us an in depth look into his mind and depression. It speaks of his painful attempt to seclude himself, but the acknowledgment that only sorrow remains in one’s loneliness.

If you’re looking for something a little more uplifting, Jackson C. Frank is probably not the place to look, but that doesn’t mean all of his songs are depressing. “Don’t Look Back” feels more like a socially charged tune from Bob Dylan’s catalogue, “My Name Is Carnival” has weaving rhythms giving it a Renaissance fair quality, and “Just Like Anything” appears at first to be another blues song, but is underlined with just a dash of hope. One of my personal favorites is actually “Milk and Honey”, which stills sends chills down my spine each time I hear it. I hope Jackson C. Frank’s still largely unknown tale can bring you some joy, even through his sorrow-filled music.