Bonnie Frankson’s Self-Titled Debut: A Raw, Soul-Stirring Ride
Alright, let’s talk about Bonnie Frankson’s self-titled album under Columbia Blue Beat. It’s one of those records that doesn’t try too hard to impress but somehow worms its way into your brain anyway. You know what I mean? Like when you meet someone who isn’t trying to be cool, but they just are. That vibe is all over this thing.
First off, track two—“Faded Photographs.” Man, this song hits different. The guitar riff at the start feels like it was plucked straight outta an old memory you didn’t even know you had. Then Bonnie’s voice comes in, kinda raspy but smooth, like she’s whispering secrets only you can hear. By the time the chorus kicks in, you’re not just listening anymore—you're living in the moment with her. It’s simple stuff, no crazy production tricks, but maybe that’s why it sticks. Feels honest, y’know?
And then there’s “Running on Empty,” which might as well be my new life anthem. If you’ve ever felt like you’re barely keeping it together while everyone else seems to have their act down pat, this one will slap you awake. The bassline grooves so deep it could carry the whole tune by itself, but the lyrics? Damn. Stuff like “I’m chasing shadows ‘til the sun comes up” makes me wanna nod along and cry in the shower all at once. Weird combo, right? But hey, that’s music for ya.
What I love most about this record is how unpolished it feels. It’s got grit, like sandpaper rubbing against silk. Nothing’s overdone, nothing screams LOOK AT ME. Instead, it lets you sit with it, get comfortable, figure out where you fit in its world. And honestly, we need more albums like that these days—ones that don’t feel manufactured for playlists or TikTok trends.
So yeah, if you’re looking for something real, something that scratches beneath the surface without needing a PhD in metaphors to understand, give Bonnie Frankson a spin. Just don’t blame me if “Faded Photographs” ends up looping in your head for days.
Oh, and here’s the kicker—I swear every time I listen to this album, I find myself digging through old boxes of photos afterward. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe Bonnie’s music has some kinda nostalgic voodoo magic going on. Either way, I ain’t mad about it.
