Bob Frank is a cult hero, even if he doesn’t want to be
by Edd Hurt
Neither a wise outlaw nor a convincing romantic, Bob Frank came to Nashville 40 years ago and proceeded to make a debut record he's never surpassed. Still, it's not entirely appropriate that Bob Frank remains the Memphis songwriter's crowning achievement. Back in the dope-soaked early '70s, Frank's songs cast a dispassionate but bemused eye on the great countercultural dream of radical democracy. Since then, Frank has become a poet of homelessness, poverty and working-class values —a disaffected American with a sentimental streak. He's a cult artist, which displeases him.
"A cult following...you know what that really means—it means you have a real small following," Frank says from his home near Oakland, Calif. Sure enough, Frank's acclaimed 1972 Bob Frank remains a collectible and long out-of-print item, and overdue for a CD reissue. Cut in Nashville and New York, and featuring Frank's singing and acoustic guitar along with a smattering of first-call session players, Bob Frank is a brilliant half-hour. It was the last record he would make for nearly 30 years.
Born in Memphis in 1944, Frank became fascinated with cowboy songs as a child and went on to play in the Bluff City's early-'60s folk scene. He says he often worked shows with the late pianist and producer Jim Dickinson, another Memphis musician interested in the strange relationship between folk and blues. (Dickinson would later cover several of Frank's songs and produce a couple of his records.)
"That was in the early '60s when I started out, when Dickinson started putting these folk shows together at the Market Theatre," Frank remembers. "Dickinson was probably the biggest influence on me I ever had." Later in the '60s, Frank would be shipped off to Vietnam, returning to civilian life in 1968 and coming to Nashville a year later.
In the interim, Frank had briefly attended Vanderbilt University. ("I got kicked out for playin' my guitar in the dorm," he says.) He worked odd jobs and eventually got an English degree from Memphis' Southwestern University. When he came to Nashville it was with a job —writing for Tree Publishing.
"I could never actually write songs like they wanted in Nashville," Frank says of his staff-writing days. "Like, Buddy Killen at Tree would listen to these songs and say, 'Man, that's great, but who am I gonna pitch this to? I'm not tryin' to change what you write—just tryin' to get you to tune into what we can get recorded.' "
Whether or not Killen or anybody else could discern commercial potential in songs such as "Wino" and "She Pawned Her Diamonds for Some Gold," Frank's songs were writerly in their marriage of extreme situations and homely language. The record's greatest moment is perhaps "Judas Iscariot," an account of a wager: "Said the soldier unto Judas, 'I'd like to make a bet / That your gypsy sidekick Jesus Christ is soon gonna meet his death,' " Frank sings.
"Somewhere in there [producer] Cletus [Haegert] hooked me up to make this deal and we made this record," Frank says. "I just went into the studio with a bunch of wine and beer and weed or whatever, and got all fucked up and sat down and started recording these songs. It wasn't hard to do or anything."
Frank says he made an effort to tour behind Bob Frank. Playing in 1972 before a New York City crowd that included journalists and the president of Vanguard Records, who released the album, Frank miscalculated his audience.
"It was at Max's Kansas City, a hot club at the time, but I had no idea," Frank says. "I went in there and thought, these people don't want to hear these old degenerate songs, so I sang about havin' a garden and living by a creek. At some point during the second set, [label head] Maynard Solomon stood up and said, 'Bob, why don't you play songs from the album?' I said, 'If they wanna hear the songs off that album, let 'em go buy the fuckin' album!' "
Living in California since 1973, Frank worked for the city of Oakland and raised a family. He began recording again in 2001 with A Little Gest of Robin Hood, a version of a 15th-century narrative poem done cowboy style. In recent years he's released some fine records, including the Dickinson-produced Keep on Burning and this year's rock 'n' roll-influenced Brinkley, Ark. & Other Assorted Love Songs, done with producers John Murry and Tim Mooney.
As he says, "I got a college education, so I'm writing from a literary standpoint. But I've always worked with working-class people and hung out with people who are homeless, bums. I just kind of identify with those people more."
Email music@nashvillescene.com.
Comments (0)