In the realms of American folk music, few artists have been able to achieve the beauty that Jackson C. Frank captured on his one and only, self-titled, record in 1965. Haunted by a fiery explosion at his elementary school which killed several of his classmates and left him with severe burns, Frank would go on to write and record some of the deepest, gorgeous acoustic music ever heard, before disappearing almost entirely after succumbing to mental instability and paralyzing anxiety. He would record a handful more times later on in his life, however, most of it would not be released until a resurgence in interest in him occurred after his death. If you’ve not checked out this record, I implore you to do so, it’s hard to find pieces of music filled with as much honesty, sadness, sweetness, and vulnerability as Frank puts into his.
Someone introduced me to the musician Jackson C Frank recently, a hugely influential (yet relatively unknown) artist of the 60′s. If you would like to feel very sad today, go listen to his music or read about his life. But in the mean time, here is a portrait.
several years of rubies and pearls at her breast she’s a demon lover just like all the rest she’s billing out her wings in the many shades of contentment she brings I got to hide it baby, because of you and I hope that you’re proud now honey it’s all I can do