When You Were Sweet Sixteen: Father Francis - TUUL Records 1984

Yes I know what you're thinking at the back there, but you can stop sniggering right now - this is a man of God after all, and in case you were wondering that girl is his niece Carmel (not the 'Maggie' credited the sleeve, that's one of the songs). Indeed, a quick look online confirms his bona fides and tells me that Father Francis Maple is based in a North Wales Friary and is sometimes known as 'the singing Franciscan friar'. So there you go. You'd expect an album from a bona fide 'father' to be a bona fide religious affair, but you'd be wrong; whilst there are some religious songs ('What A Friend We Have In Jesus', 'Bring Flowers of the Rarest') there are plenty of secular ones mixed in too ('Words', 'I Believe In You', 'The Story of My Life'), making this the very epitome of a 'mixed bag'*.

 

Away from his day job, the singing friar can carry a tune of sorts, but he does so with a flat as a pancake voice that projects (on this evidence anyway) about half an octave range and sounds like it's being squeezed from out of a mouth he doesn't open wide enough, making him sound a bit like he's singing through closed lips like a bad ventriloquist. Musically it's all very safe and predictable enough fodder that, on the whole, is not difficult to churn out if you have the time and resources, and Father Francis seems to have both in abundance (including a backing band of musicians that include members of Smokie and Liverpool Express) - what really takes my breath away though is that suffix to the title - Volume Nine! Nine! That's more studio albums than The Velvet Underground, Jeff Buckley and Nick Drake managed between them and I think the weight of that number illustrates the disposability of this stuff.

 

Indeed, at first blush these recordings have a Chuancey Gardner type innocence to them, a childlike naivety that wouldn't be out of place on a children's singalong television show. But then just like finding a small piece of gravel in your shoe, what starts out as tolerable in its amateurishness starts to get really fucking irritating as time goes on. In fact, for me, it reaches a kind of nadir at track one side two with a teeth grindingly sincere, sing song version of 'All Things Bright And Beautiful' but at that point there's still about twenty minutes left to go. And that's twenty minutes too long I'm afraid - I don't doubt this doesn't go down a storm amongst the faithful at his prayer meets, but it's all a leap of faith too far for me. 

 

 

* I was going to make a comparison here with Johnny Cash's late Rick Rubin recordings which were similarly eclectic, but on reflection I don't think that would be fair on any of the parties.