I've been mildly (to say the least) obsessed with Francis of Delirium's songs since I first heard them sometime in 2023, but I’ve never quite got to the point of converting thoughts to text. 'Blue Tuesday', 'Real Love' and 'First Touch' are all fabulous songs, and mean a lot to me. 'Give It Back To Me' was just about edging ahead as my favourite. And then, wonderfully, in March, FoD went and released a whole album, with all those songs on it and seven more, too.
Writer and vocalist Jana Bahrich is from Canada but based in Luxembourg and signed in the UK (there's a fabulous recent interview with her on The Line of Best Fit); something of that worldly-wise, cross-border aesthetic shines through very clearly in all the songs on this record. 'Lighthouse' is the title and it's a great album: rich and evocative; deeply nostalgic; and dwelling on love, in its various phases, with very relatable honesty.
From an instrumentation point of view, the drums really stood out to me, throughout the whole album, from my first listen. I’ve since learnt that FoD's drummer, Chris Hewett, is also the producer. The rhythm section exudes great patterns, with lots of offbeat or doubled-up hits, but also choosing and sticking with a pattern for the duration of each track. That combination of variation across all of 'Lighthouse' and clarity within each individual song brings a lovely sense of stability.
The first track on the album is a new one, 'Ballet Dancers (Never Love Again)'. It begins subtly and almost tentatively with a simple, clean guitar riff: a gentle call into the void, with Jana's voice remaining delicate and singing of "Twirling ballet dancers on the corner of a 7-11" – all wistful and reflective, dwelling on love. Then after a kind of mini-chorus, an instrumental break of roaring guitars suddenly erupts. The next verse drops us back down again, before a second round of that loudness, which this time develops further, as Jana joins in with a soaring refrain of "When it ends, I will never love again" that then stretches out into a gentle landing. It's an adrenaline-fuelled and energising opening to the album, setting the scene for the next 35 minutes.
'Real Love' has such a relaxing and lilting groove. It begins mellow, with muted guitars and then establishes a rolling, relaxing rhythm with crisp opening hi-hats giving a nice skipping feel. "Real love isn't real love when it's not us" is the core of the song, an exploration and attempted explanation of the unexplainable, often all-consuming mystery of love. This chorus also features a repeated four-note pattern played on a honky tonk piano, moving and also slightly haunting. It's an enveloping kind of song, and like many of the best songs do, it ends and resolves satisfyingly with a single piano note.
After that 'Want You' comes in with something of a buzz and more grit. This is the first song where you hear a bit of a wobble to Jana's voice, bringing honest vulnerability. Again, there are similarities with what's gone before; this album has a brilliant coherence and singularity of purpose and execution. It truly is an album-lover's album.
That gradual fade in on 'Blue Tuesday' is a brilliant touch. The song approaches like a promise, then settles into a chugging, progressive rhythm. The lyrics open apropos of nothing, with "And it starts in the back of a cab ..." – this gives a feeling of tension and suspense immediately. You know this is leading somewhere, and in some ways you're part of the story now. As the song develops, it becomes messier and the lyrics reveal that sense, too.
We've moved from those initial, heady feelings into something more complicated and confusing. This is the solid centre of the record: the core around which the entire, wonderful musical edifice has been built. We're feeling the mix of feelings that love brings.
'Cliffs' leads us further into a zone of heartfelt cries and appeals, and in the more reflective and sad 'Starts To End', there's the full realisation of some of those earlier doubts and confusions. 'Alone Tonight' brings exactly that feeling, with echoing guitars and incessant, if muted, drums. We hear Jana entwined in a monologue, exploring options and perhaps reaching acceptance of the point we've reached. There's a strange kind of solace here.
After that, 'Something's Changed' is a lovely piece of storytelling, and the vocal devices here are brilliantly expressive: going high for the words "I'm lost" in the verses, before launching into long, soaring lines on the chorus.
As we approach the conclusion, 'Who You Are' arrives with colourful, shimmery chords. There's vulnerability as Jana explores new - and not necessarily welcome - aspects to another person's character. This is relatable and in some ways inspiring. Like the rest of the record, it's very human – the songs reveal, and help us realise, parts of our shared experience, and there's comfort in that.
Finally, 'Give It Back To Me'. So heart-rending, building and rising, Jana offering solace. The song is generous in the way it displays vulnerability, but again provides inspiration as we see strength, too: Jana is stretching her voice, almost to breaking sometimes, just giving her all to us. The guitars swell and almost overtake and overwhelm, heads are swimming ... And then, so softly, pointing back to the way this all started, we're soothed to a tender goodbye.
Francis of Delirium are on tour in Europe in April, before playing 9 dates in the UK and Ireland in May, and then heading to North America. Find out more on their website and Bandcamp site.