Jackson C. Frank is one of those names that just insists on being investigated. He’s a near mystical/mythical figure from the 1960’s, with a back story that shreds any other to ribbons, so wracked it is with tragedies both accidental and self-inflicted. Golden Mirrors: The Undiscovered, Series 1, from erstwhile Bad Seed Mick Harvey, sees him again team up with Amanda Acevedo, a singer, artist and film maker from Mexico to pay tribute to Frank. The pair put together a melancholic album of orchestrated noir in 2023, Phantasmagorian Blue. This is the first in (what the title suggests is) a series of uncovering artists who influenced them, while residing possibly under the radar of many of their audience.
Frank only actually issued one album in his lifetime, but as with many artists whose flame burnt out swiftly, posthumous releases have pieced together a mesh-mash of outtakes and demos, seeping out on various labels hoping for more golden eggs from the freshly killed goose. As such, four of the 11 tracks featured here are from that 1965 release; another two come from the 1996 re-release that featured recordings made 10 years later. Until his death in 1999, Frank made faltering further efforts to lay down further tracks, sometimes of his own volition, sometimes as others sought advantage. Each of these tracks eventually reached the light of day as the interest in Frank became greater, even if the quality of some of those recordings left more than a little to desire.
For his eponymous sole album, which was recorded in London, Frank teamed up with fellow traveler Paul Simon, he too pitching his fork in the fertile fields of the vibrant folk scene then in existence. Simon produced the record, adding occasional guitar to that of Frank’s own guitar accompaniment. Similarly, Al Stewart, the Glaswegian destined for later greater things, added some further guitar, the record otherwise just Frank and his voice. There is a suggestion that no less than Sandy Denny, his girlfriend for a time, added tambourine to the occasional track. On Golden Mirrors, the songs have been fleshed out far more widely, with full band arrangements, bringing together a beguiling concoction reminiscent, variously, of Mazzy Star, of Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell, and of the spaghetti western soundtracks of Ennio Morricone. Given the tendency of Frank to recycle both tunes and the occasional lyric, this helps the project from becoming overly of one hue.
“Golden Mirror,” in the singular, launches straight in with a hazy strum, with sinuous guitar and swirling keyboards. Alternating between singing and a lazy drawl, Acevedol is a ringer for Hope Sandoval, the Mazzy Star reference writ large. It’s a barnstorming start, setting the stage for “My Name Is Carnival,” one of Frank’s better known songs after its appearance on the Joker soundtrack. Apparently the favorite of his own songs, and a highpoint of the original disc, it is given a suitably gothic feel. Harvey joins Acevedo for some gaunt harmonies across the chorus, as well as, possibly, the atonal background ghostly wails, drifting across the whole of the track. “Night of the Blues” sees Harvey take up an anguished lead vocal, in a noirish delivery that suits the gaunt desert ambience: think the Walkabouts, of the arrangement. Harvey is using every iota of his soundtrack experience to conjure up the requisite mood.
A touch of echo, together with the fuzz guitar of Alain Johannes, keeps up the interest for “Cover Me With Roses,” a further duet. With this Chilean guitarist having been often a foil to the late Mark Lanegan, the Lanegan/Campbell comparison gets a further leg up here, although the specters of Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood, influential to that partnership in turn, need also a mention. Suffice to say, this is all polishing up rather well. A similar flavor inhabits “The Visit,” a song from the 1975 sessions, as is “Marcy’s Song,” which becomes a haunting showcase for Acevedo’s vocal, now in simmering siren mode, a drawn out Nico-esque drone, bumping geese all over. Indeed, this rendition would not seem out of place on the Velvet Underground debut, something Frank may never have envisaged with his spare delivery of what sounds a completely different song.
“Blues Run the Game” is, of course, the Jackson C. Frank song that everybody knows, even if they don’t know he was the writer, such are the myriad covers it has fostered, often featuring in these hallowed pages. That lays down quite the challenge to Harvey and Acevedo. By electing to pitch it in a different key, the hazy shady atmospheric of the whole projects is maintained, its familiarity subsumed into the overriding texture woven thus far. The fluttering mandolin is especially effective, adding to a greater plangency, which Harvey wrings, excruciatingly, from the words.
One of Frank’s most personal lyrics follows, the self-evident “I Want To Be Alone.” In a slight change of style, this is presented almost as a madrigal, Acevedo now inhabiting the persona of a long gowned pre-Raphaelite maiden, floating downstream. Holding that thought in mind, despite the absence of any vocal comparison, Sandy Denny is then brought to mind for the next song, “Have You Seen the Unicorns?” Given she had given him an oblique mention in her song “Next Time Around,” was this a nod to her? Denny’s song “Solo” contains the famous line, “I’ve always kept a unicorn,” later lifted as the title of both a biography and a retrospective compendium of her acoustic songbook. Whether it does or not, I like the idea.
Drawing to a close, the UK style folk-rock of “October” is up next, with echoes of Annie Haslam and Renaissance, a brooding lament for the end of Summer. One of the more lingering melodies here, it imprints as one of the highlights, shades of Leonard Cohen filtering into the song structure. Golden Mirrors‘ closer, “Juliette,” returns to the Sandoval/Mazzy Star comparisons of the opener, pulling the project full circle. A final duet, it makes for a wistful epilogue to a volume I can both applaud and commend.
Who, then, for the next volume?
Golden Mirrors tracklisting:
Golden Mirror
My Name is Carnival
The Night of the Blues
Cover Me with Roses
The Visit
Marcy’s Song
Blues Run the Game
I Want to be Alone (Dialogue)
Have You Seen the Unicorns
October
Juliette
