A Little Touch of L.C. Franke in The Night?
though a collection of winning originals, not covers
Reading the press release while listening to this effervescent, ornately orchestrated instantly likable set of new, yet nostalgic tunes, it wasn't surprising to discover that modern day "crooner" L.C. Franke's musical roots at least for this record were anchored in his grandmother Elsie's "dusty" record collection (crooner in quotes because his singing style is more straightforward, though the tunes and arrangements could be used by an old school crooner).
"L.C."? "Elsie"? Franke, whose real name is Jeff Klein, re-named himself after his bubbe— a sentiment as sweet as this you'll fall in love with it when you hear it record. Everyone I've played it for has, but I don't know if they've gone and streamed it or bought the vinyl version with the old fashioned label art and rear jacket artwork and type face to match.
Harp glissandos, sweeping, swelling strings, whispering flutes—arranger John Mills hits all of the sentimental orchestral cues bouying Franke's gentle, uplifting lyrical sentiments sung with sweet but not saccharine sincerity. Franke knows how to turn the chords in his emotional favor. The opener "Marionette" is about casting off old regrets.
The waltz "You & Me Against the World" doesn't need explanation. "Prisoner" is a two-step tuxedo of a tune that could have been written for Astaire and Rogers to dance to. All ten tunes are charmers.
The presser notes that Franke is the former (and still) Jeff Klein, an "Austin-by-way-of New York indie rocker", but that doesn't begin to cover the resume, which includes Berklee College of Music, signing to Bjork's One Little Indian label and a twenty five year career filled with collaborations with major artists, success in well known and regarded groups including My Jerusalem, soundtrack contributions, and an international following you can read about on Wikipedia.
He certainly didn't change course because of failure, and this album is not at all intended as a put on, but rather as a reaction to his feeling (according to the presser) "lost and jaded" and a (successful) attempt at "building a bridge between 20th-century nostalgia and post-millennial alienation".
Recorded at Jim Enos' (Spoon) Public HiFi now located in Providence Rhode Island and filled with gear you will like, the sound is pleasingly sumptuous with the orchestrations spread across a wide and reasonably deep soundstage (in a budgety kind of way). It's good but don't expect what EMI/Abbey Road Studio's Phil McDonald managed with the Nilsson album!
Franke/Klein's road to this record made me think of Ray Davies—who though obviously a great rocker with the Kinks, went there because that's what was happening in 1964 and where a musician had to be to get noticed. But Davies was by nature more a music hall/traditionalist song writer as his later output demonstrated. I figure Klein did what he did earlier in his career because that's where the action was, but with this record he's found a more comfortable musical place. You'll enjoy being there with him.
