FRAN
We seek out the imperfect light of limestone basements and low stages in the Driftless region—hushed venues to temper our agitation and fears and ennui for a few hours. We’re good at deception, especially when it comes to the self. And we’re bad with temptation, especially in the dark. Fran’s music caters to our desire for both and accords us space to linger and ruminate.
We make acquaintance with the band’s sound in the same manner a sommelier might approach a wine: looking for body and clarity and tannins gripping the inside of our mouths. We find our footing in the delicate features of the live songs, the forward or subtle influences, the temptation stirred in our curated catalog of musical tastes. Is that a hint of Jenny Lewis? A wink at Elliott Smith? A sip of Aimee Mann? We’re being prompted to lose the idea of an individual self and sink into the larger collective.
We’re jarred by the tightness of a near-perfect pop waltz. It mirrors the quiet turmoil roiling in our chests. Jacobson’s philosophical lyricism and rich voice have us captivated, and the band surges in the deep cohesion of introspective universality. “Do you hear what they say?” she questions, pausing before her voice is surrounded by her bandmates in reply: “How can I give it away/wanting it to last another day?” We can’t. We’ve succumbed to the temptation of staying here, underground, in the shared interior of this sound. We’re a roomful of candle-flicker silhouettes and every note, every slyly-phrased lyric echoes from within us and floats at us in a strangely familiar equilibrium.
-- Andrew Jones; Associate Professor of English and Creative Writing at University of Dubuque --
Filmed at Fox Den Motel
in Dubuque, IA
Directed by:
Jeremy Quentin
Filmed by:
John Woerdehoff
Nick Riedman
Jeremy Quentin
Recorded by:
Laird Scott
Forward by:
Andrew Jones
Special thanks to:
Natalie Gassman
John McDermott
Sean Moeller