ARTIST: Francine
TITLE: Airshow
LABEL: Q Division
GENRE: Indie
TIME: 46:43 min
SIZE: 63,2 MB
RIP DATE: Jun-21-2006
RELEASE DATE: Jun-13-2006
WEBSITE: n/a
Track List:
01. Stood 01:47
02. Zeroes and Ones 04:00
03. Connectionless 03:23
04. 7 Gulls 01:53
05. Daysucker 03:46
06. Ugly But Rakish 05:04
07. Wells 00:38
08. Here Comes 05:06
09. Lakeshore Gold 03:13
10. Penn Station 04:29
11. Storrow Drivers 03:30
12. Airshow 03:45
13. John Drake 00:25
14. Beatrice 05:44
Release Notes:
Francine, the Boston quintet led by singer /
songwriter Clayton Scoble (ex-Poundcake), have
downshifted their sound from the spit-shined power
pop that defined it around the turn of the century.
They've become purveyors of chilling spectral pop.
Now things operate by cautious design, in
incandescent streaks of painted movement. Flares of
guitar echo and manipulated tape, a rhythm section
caught in self-sustaining Pavlovian flux. The chime
of steel strings and clench of bass frequencies
caught in a gentle spin cycle. Airshow, the band's
third LP, details the fruits of this gradual
transition with a photographic kind of proof, its
cumulative effect dreamlike and disorienting.
So instead of relying on the big meaty hooks of past
triumphs like 2000's Forty on a Fall Day, Francine
is now hunting mood and banking on the power of
reinforced texture. It's a tricky move, no doubt,
not as instantly agreeable or as obvious as the
feisty rock rave-up, but one that has even more
satisfying returns over time and commitment. Down
from the high-altitude rush of a song like
"Trampoline", down even from the sweetly motored
resignation of "Fake Fireplace Things", the
so-called "catch" songs on Airshow - those that could
represent the album as singles - hibernate within
their would-be roles. "Zeros and Ones",
"Connectionless", and "Ugly but Rakish" are
thrilling in their own anti-thrill way: they don't
cater to wham-bam rock craves, but to subtler
gestures of concentrated repetition. This is a band
with more Tortoise than T. Rex on the brain.
While the band can take most of the credit for this
concoction of circuitous style (the climactic
multi-instrumental build-up of "Penn Station" is a
highlight of the record), Scoble's songs are
typically top-notch. He's always been one to combine
elegance with obscurity (as a wordsmith, he's both
clever and evasive), and the soft-focus template of
Airshow makes for prime exploitation of that talent.
The songs are populated with references to
electronic interference, batteries and ring
topologies, still and moving photography, highways
and train stations, optical illusions (naturally)
and crystal-clear reminiscences, all of which enrich
the record's enigmatic content.
Scoble delivers his imagery-burdened code like
fantastical bedtime stories, coddling the words in
his mouth. The cinematic scenes are ones that would
drive a lump into the throats of most - "So you
learned to shift left-handed at night, / So you
could memorize her fingers in your right" and "The
grackles gather like luckless offspring" from "Day
Sucker" and "Storrow Drivers", respectively, are
good examples at the lovely sadness at the heart of
these songs - but whatever lovesickness is left in
Scoble's voice is overcome by the beautiful haze the
band drapes over it all.
This all adds up to a peculiar and fascinating pop
record, one that hides its hooks in haunting
affirmations of melody and a very un-rockist show of
monkish restraint. A band at the beginning of its
career could never have made a record as subtle and
secretive as Airshow - their inexperience, their young
drive to bang the music into shape, would have bred
something much more self-conscious. Francine has
played the rock band role expected of it, and done
it well. Now there are more evasive things that need
chasing.