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You’ve heard of death metal; well, this here is death country-folk, and a more gruesome collection of songs you will not hear this or any other year. Bob Frank is a California-based, 62-year-old, late-blooming maverick roots singer-songwriter who once played with the likes of Townes Van Zandt; he has teamed up with John Murry to make a “murder ballads album,” but instead of revisiting the familiar catalogue of traditional tunes, they’ve written 10 of their own, based on actual events, and notably shorn of any moral tone. This makes grim if compelling listening — murder, rape, pillage, nooses, knives and mayhem — from the story of Little Wiley Harpe in 1805, to Bubba Rose’s dark deeds in 1961. The music is suitably sepia-toned, hushed vocals cowled in a gaunt mesh of steel guitar and evocative picking. Not easy to like but impossible to ignore. — Joe Breen, Irish Times.       sample: Joaquin Murietta, 1853

Sample: Just to Be With You

Bob Frank and John Murry, two Southern ex-pats (the former hailing from Memphis, Tennessee, and Murry being from Tupelo, Mississippi) living in the San Francisco Bay Area and separated by nearly a forty year age difference, have created a more-than-worthy follow-up to their critically acclaimed 2006 release, “World Without End”. That release was a gruesome collection of true murder ballads, co-written by Frank and Murry and hailed by critics worldwide as a both timeless and timely meditation on death, destruction, and American violence. Perhaps, then, it follows naturally (or at least “naturally” according to Frank and Murry) that their newest record, “Brinkley, Ark. and Other Assorted Love Songs”, though very much a departure aesthetically, focuses just as heavily on loss; this time, not the loss of life but of lost love and of longing.

Dubbed “redneck soul” by Frank, Murry, and their long-time producer Tim Mooney, the album is filled with Memphis horns, Muscle Shoals rhythms, Mississippi gospel organ, and fiery Southern Rock-influenced guitar work that encapsulates the strong and emotionally honest songwriting of Frank and Murry.

The songs themselves span nearly forty years, with some having been written by Frank immediately after his tour of duty in Vietnam. Creating the record was an idea that occurred to Murry when he was staying at Bob’s house and found a box of old reel to reel demo tapes.  He was staying at Bob’s house at the time because he had separated from his wife and, in the midst of the heartache, found refuge in Bob’s forgotten songs. These songs inspired John to write his own, and the resulting record is a seamless mixture of Frank and Murry’s songs, chronicling the heartbreak of love lost.

“… a stirring collection of recent songs and old favorites produced by Memphis shaman Jim Dickinson, with backing by members of the North Mississippi All-Stars and Mudboy & the Neutrons.” — J.R. Nashville Scene

Sample: Since the Midway Came to Town

This is, after all, where this rock and roll mess began: a human being and a guitar. Bob Frank stands naked on stage, baring his soul in a coffee house. Except for the fashion on the clothes (he’s not really naked), it could be any year, any time, any place.

In the early part of the 1960s, they called it a hootenanny. Jim Dickinson, whose career was moving in a decidedly theatrical direction, appreciated the power of folk music (he’d first retired from rock and roll in 1959). Dickinson had helped found the Market Theater in Memphis, a jook of a performance space, and was way off into the Sunday afternoon musical free-for-alls.

Dickinson didn’t know Bob Frank from Wild Bill Jones when Frank stepped to the stage with his guitar in hand. Bob Frank sang “With Sabers in Our Hands” and Dickinson damn sure set to finding out who he was. Frank had been thrown out of Vanderbilt University for playing his acoustic guitar too loud. A friendship was born.

Bob got to make a record for Vanguard way back when, Dickinson cut Frank’s “Wild Bill Jones” on his legendary 1972 solo album, and Bob moved out west, finding his way mostly out of the music biz, though he never strayed too far from the guitar.

Bob Frank’s songs are the proscenium between the personal and the universal. I was a kid in Memphis when the Cotton Carnival used to be on the riverfront. I immediately conjured that image, and all the conflicted emotions, the excitement and the emptiness that follows, when I listened to “Since the Midway Came to Town” on this album. I believe anyone would feel the same thing, hearing lyrics about a midway, fireworks, and the “good gal” that “packed her grip and gone across the Mississipp.” Frank is unflinching, letting it all wash so impersonally down the mighty river.

This disc includes a trucker’s song (I’ll never pass a Peterbilt on the highway without thinking of “Old Truckers”), a hippie-era ballad (“Journey to Myself”), even a gospel song about a different kind of revelation (Vanguard made him censor it; it’s here in its original form). But most fascinating is the Civil War ballad, “With Sabers in Our Hands,” which sounds like it came marauding off an 1864 battlefield letter writ in blood. But Bob Frank wrote that one too.

I just went back to check a song lyric and was shocked to hear the other instruments on the track. I’d remembered the performance as just Frank and his guitar. Now that’s perfect accompaniment (provided by the Dickinson family); it fleshes out the solo artist’s feel without diluting his strength.

It’s been three decades since Bob Frank’s first album, the obscure LP on Vanguard (I’d like to buy yours if it’s just collecting dust). This collection mixes older material with the new, and there’s no distinction. He locked into his songwriting mode back then, and it’s worked ever since; he’s had no reason to get a new Peterbilt. He’s been this good for that long. Listen to how the words are phrased, how the lines are broken and assembled to the performance.

These songs, this record, Bob Frank: time just ain’t a factor. — Robert Gordon, author of It Came from Memphis.

If you write and perform “Judas Iscariot” in humorous talking-blues fashion, you’d better get it right! On Red Neck, Blue Collar, Bob Frank navigates between the rocks with his insistent yet expertly nuanced voice, his basic-but-skilled guitar playing, and a bouncy Jew’s harp signaling light-hearted intent — all crisply picked up by recording, mixing, and mastering at three different Memphis facilities.

But an unmistakable moral seriousness runs through all 11 of Frank’s refreshing songs. His skepticism toward authority and institutions informs the deep respect his ballads show for human dignity when uncoupled from status and wealth. This lends credibility to his explicit claim of being a folksinger despite writing his own material. Regarding the elitist claims that we’re all “one big family” and “in the same boat,” Frank says, “If this is how they treat their fam’ly / I feel sorry for all their kin.”

That’s a representative swatch of the pithy chambray fabric Frank’s words weave, hitting them with a couple of words banned from TV while waxing awestruck toward us who face life-and-death decisions when their trucks and trains turn lethal. He isn’t obsequiously generous: The album’s just over 38 minutes long. He doesn’t indulge himself. There are no jams or even long instrumental introductions or endings.

Where’s Frank been all these years that we’ve needed his kind of artist? Well, Vanguard released his eponymous LP in 1972. Legend has it that at the release party Vanguard gave him he played a set with no songs from the album. Applying his irreverence to his label meant no follow-up album. We can only hope that won’t be the case this time. – David J. Cantor, Soundstage.    Sample: Out on the Prairie

He’s a masterful songwriter and very striking vocalist whose songs have been recorded by numerous vocalists and groups, yet Bob Frank is another of those names well respected among musicians and generally unknown to the broader audience. Some of that may be due to a limited catalog, something that makes any of his releases a newsworthy event. His newest is Ride The Restless Wind (Bowstring), and it has 12 songs that range from great story tunes like “Monroe, Louisiana, Pipeliners’ Brawl” to “Luther Brown” and “Painted Arrow.” There are also numbers with equal parts humor and irony such as “Within A Few Degrees” and the tune “Buckskin Lady” that’s been covered by among others Chris Ledoux and the Starlite Ramblers. Frank’s pieces are always highly literate, superbly crafted and frequently provocative. They’re far too witty and original to get much radio airplay, but they shouldn’t be missed by anyone seeking smart, well performed and entertaining music that’s neither dry nor predictable. — Ron Wynn, Nashville City Paper    Sample: Holy Ground

“This music is that rare slice of Americana that gets passed over these days by too many hurried folks.  It’s that breath of authentic fresh air mixed with serendipity — like happening upon a forgotten coffee house and discovering a genuine troubadour inside who isn’t afraid to sing about what’s really on everybody’s mind.  He understands the sentiments of the average Joe because he is one.  Unlike society, the troubadour hasn’t changed his ways in all these years, he’s merely become more seasoned in the experience.  Such is Bob Frank’s Pledge of Allegiance CD.  The payoff is like running across some treasure we’d once enjoyed and then set aside.  Now we recall how much we’ve missed it.”  — Hoover, “The Lost Outlaw.”

“Frank’s ‘pledge’ has nothing to do with blind allegiance to his country. It’s a pledge to what he obviously feels a more personal loyalty to — the working class that made that country great.”  — Bill Glahn, Community Free Press

Sample: One Big Family