First blast of the post-Lost Domain era from our man in the south, in which brother Frank fires one down from the pulpit in Hobart town. And my, nobody knows how to confer the sacraments to the assembled brethren like this brandy soaked boho.
The hail of gtr/vox brimstone showered down in this his second NGL LP oughtta dispel any notion that old mate might have curled up with his slippers and pipe after leaving Brisbane a couple of years back. In true form he stomps and hollers his way through a set of favourites (Stagger Lee, John the Revelator, Mole in the Ground et al) with his trademark loose swagger and some of his 'heaviest' vocal delivery to date. Meanwhile, the string work on this disc punches well above the weight of his 3 Watt vintage amp, arcing lines of feedback and fuzz into the congregation that nod back to the kinda damage he was doing in peak form Lost Domain and G55.
The locational anomaly of an Australian based 'believer' out-muscling the pack of blues hound wannabes and channelling the true spirit of the south is one of those sweet mysteries you shouldn't think about too much - just dig it man. He's got the keys to the kingdom.
- Leighton Craig
Unhinged live performance from a Hobart church hall.
Ragtime Frank liberates gospel, blues & field hollers from the constraints of tuning and good sense.
His right foot stomps with a church elder's religious zeal & the guitar burns away on the cusp of feedback like a Memphis session player who was too noisy & random for Sam Phillips. And then he sings & yells about looking just like a monkey & wailing on electric harp like Wild Man Fischer mixed with Little Walter.
Far too weird for the purists....just right for boozy parties. - Simon Ellaby
Raging edition of only 100 copies LP from one-time member of legendary Australian underground group The Lost Domain: Live At St. George’s catches Frank screamin’ and hollerin’ his avant one-band-man-isms live in Hobart, where he has relocated from Brisbane. Tearing through a set of all ‘gospel’ ‘traditionals’, Frank comes over like a post-Xpressway Abner Jay, with feral blats of feedback harmonica accompanied by stomping Hasil Adkins/Shaggs style rhythms and a way out vocal style that is part Lux Interior/Wild Billy Childish chicken hunch and part devotional sound poetry. Putting the primal back in American Primitive, this comes over as set of true free folk, with a liberated approach to form and true believer vocalisms married to the kinda insane guitar refusals that would’ve given DNA the big itch. Another monster from Frank that won’t be around forever. Recommended.- Volcanic Tongue