On Tour Goose Flies on David
posted by July 17 at 14:11 PMon
Adam Franklin is a master, a sculptor of a guitar player. He chisels and nimbly modulates his Fender Jazz Master through layers of notes and marble.
People watch his hands when he plays to see how his fingers move.
Not that he is into nude men, or nudity, but his latest David is called Bolts of Melody, out on Hi-Speed Soul. A clean, quarantined, full length collection of mood sifters and regal chord imagery.
Franklinís fans are hardcore. They want autographs and encores.
First, there was Swervedriver. Then Toshack Highway. Now as ĎAdam Frankliní, Bolts of Melody. Franklin also has a project in the works with Interpol drummer, (and Swervedriver fan) Sam Fogarino called the Setting Suns.
(Billy Corgan had asked Franklin to play in his current lineup, but Franklin said no.)
Fogarino had a bottle of Grey Goose waiting for Adam at the Crocodile when he finished his set on Saturday night. A little something to get the tour started right. Improbably, the bottle remained unopened until the next night at Portland’s Doug Fir Lounge.
With Greyhounds circulating, I hovered near Mr. Franklin as he packed up after the Doug Fir show. He velcros his pedals to a thin slab of wood. The instruments of a brain surgeon, yes. He had shown up in Seattle without this wood and had to have it Fed Exed out. He joked how he has a few of these slabs in various places, one in New York, and one in Europe somewhere. Now one on the west coast. He said, ďI have wood everywhere.Ē
Adam Franklin is a highly intelligent, soft-spoken man. When he speaks, he has something to say. His English accent adds austerity and an official-ness. He relayed a story about being in a NY cab on the way home after a show.
The cab driver was an older raspy man, and was telling Adam if he ever needed a vocalist, to give him a call. Adam got home and on a whim, Googled the guy. Turns out he sang for the Platters. Adam and Fogarino need to pull this guy into their collaboration. Would rule.
Sunday night ended by the Doug Fir fire pit. Mirth and liquids flowed. Franklinís bass player, Josh, was tackled in the bushes and piled on. It was Adamís drummer, Thanís birthday. Beyond last call, the hour approached super late and became early morning.
The next day, they were to play in San Francisco at Cafť du Nord. From Portland, a what, ten hour drive? Load in at what, 7:00? Which meant leaving Portland at 9 that morning?
Can you say super fresh van time? Ibuprofen? Red bull, gas station shitter food?
The Grey Goose spreads its wings and claims. Band loses brain cells, reels, and rebounds to the highway headed South. Put on Ry Cooderís soundtrack for Paris, Texas and hope for no traffic.
“Fly like an Eagle, to the sea. Fly like an eagle, let my coffee carry me.”
Update via Adam text: They made the San Fran show just in time. No soundcheck. Good crowd for a Monday.