Robert Francis @The Fly, Camden 9/11/09
The mystery that surrounds Robert Francis is how he manages to turn from socially awkward agoraphobe to passionate singer with the strum of one chord.
The Californian Emile Hirsch look-a-like wanders up to the stage like a man carrying the burdens of 1,000 souls, and fiddles around with his instruments like a 13-year-old before a music recital.
But once he starts playing a different Francis emerges – still tormented, like a prisoner recently released from 30 years incarceration – but a confidence flows out of him while he delivers his White Lies-esque mellow folk pop.
The most striking things about Francis and his band at The Fly in Camden last night was their apparent insistence to look like one another, all decked in plaid shirts with messy indie haircuts and David Beckham it-looks-like-I-haven’t-shaved-but-actually-I’ve-spent-ages-sculpting-this beards. It was like standing outside a GAP window.
Ignoring the appearance faux pas, Francis served up soulful sounds that lent a little of everything, at times sounding like roots blues from deep Mississippi and then flowing into country rock, all served with a dash of self deprecation and humility.
Which is less than can be said for Francis’ mid-song demeanour, a confidence, bordering on arrogance, that unfortunately manifested itself in more than enough cum-faces-during-guitar-solos than is necessary.
What is undeniable was the boy Robert’s voice, pitch perfect every song, and hauntingly chilling during each tormented verse. Coupled with melodically memorable songs and pretty boy looks, Robert Francis has potential. Just enough with the weird faces, my friend.
