Black Francis Nonstoperotik
Alun Thomas shakes his head in despair at Black Francis latest
Black Francis has released some amazing albums over the years. Sadly,
this is not one of them. Nonstoperotik is a turgid album, mediocre at
best, which leaves the listener wondering what the hell has happened
to Francis songwriting in recent years. Hes always been
prolific, releasing an average of an album a year since he went solo,
most of these with his backing band the Catholics. Mainly blah country
rock, the Frank Black and the Catholics albums are partially redeemed
by some great songwriting and typically weird lyrics, the two-track
recording method which Francis insisted on giving the albums a warm
bar-band feel. The Catholics wont set your world alight but if
its twisted alt-country with attitude youre after they wont
disappoint. Much. The trouble seemed to set in when Charles Thompson
IV decided to stop being Frank Black and revert back to his Pixies-era
moniker. This resulted in the trying-too-hard Bluefinger, a concept
album about Herman Brood with some awful clunky lyrics, swiftly followed
by the heartstoppingly shit Svn Fngrs, an excruciating chore of an album
with no redeeming features whatsoever. Disappointingly, Nonstoperotik
does nothing to buck this trend.
As is usual for Frank Black records the album is rammed to the gills
with filler, forcing listeners to hunt through the dross for anything
resembling a memorable tune. Five songs in, finally, Dead Mans
Curve slithers into sight, its snaking guitar line heralding the
beginning of the only good song on the album. Francis puts in a great
vocal performance on the track, his passionate screaming in the chorus
being a particular highlight. Lyrically the song is more straightforward
than his usual fare and none the poorer for it.
The underwhelming Corrina follows, a song that would be
less offensive to the listener if only it had a memorable riff, vocals
that were in tune, lyrics that werent dreadful and didnt
repeat its one musical idea endlessly throughout its two minute running
time. An absolute chore to listen to, the less said about it the better.
Unfortunately, this attitude applies equally to the rest of the album.
One disappointing song follows another until the one-two gut punch that
is Nonstoperotik and Cinema Star. Offensively
bland AOR dirges with lyrics so awful and trite that Johnny Borrell
would be ashamed to use them, they close the album with a whimper, leaving
the listener feeling intensely grateful that the ordeal is over. With
Nontoperotik Francis songwriting has regressed to sub-bar band
level. One suspects that the only reason he still has a recording contract
is because of his former glories; if a band starting out tried to release
this kind of rubbish theyd be laughed out of the studio. Black
Francis has finally stopped teetering on the edge of mediocrity and
hurled himself into the abyss. From his new vantage point at the bottom
of the barrel, the glory days of the Pixies must seem very far away.
Alun Thomas
http://www.blackfrancis.net/
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