The Prince Albert has that kind of creaky magic about it, intimate and lived in, a perfect stop-over for the reflective, personal soundscapes of Irish singer-songwriter Aoife Nessa Frances. First rustling attention in early 2020 through her serene, sometimes sombre debut album ‘Land Of No Junction’, Frances impressed with her deep, resonant voice and shadowy introspection. Set in a confluence of dark folk, shoegaze and dream pop with lo-fi country tinges, her music came across as strikingly individual.
Lockdown then gifted Frances time to re-energise, moving out of Dublin and onto the County Clare coast, before writing and recording her follow up ‘Protector’ in that place of rugged beauty. Released late October ‘22 this sophomore album has been steadily pulling in praise and looks set to confirm Aoife’s significance in the bustling indie world. So catching its live presentation was a must.
As always with such gigs, success often depends on the attention levels support acts coax from the doors-open crew. Both Lando Manning and Ora Cogan managed to set the tone with engaging sets of folk derived inventiveness. First up Brighton-based Manning went acoustic for his solo spot, mixing new compositions with trusted trad-standards ‘Fine Horseman’ and a refreshed ‘Scarborough Fair’. Performing with a twinkle-eyed thrill, his warm baritone and crisp picking patterns drew you in, while songs like ‘Sugar In The Sun’ flowed with a Tim Hardin-like ease.
Less local but equally at home, Canadian Ora Cogan delivered her widescreen alt-folk through a refreshing post rock frame. With her nimble electric guitar lines tumbling over a purring rhythm section, Cogan’s trio smoothly gained momentum as her ethereal voice added more well-honed detail. People nodded and smiled, primed to push on to the headliner.
Soon, as if from nowhere (but probably the side door) Aoife Nessa Frances strode onto the Albert stage with her bandmates Brendan Doherty (drums plus percussive things) and Brendan Jenkinson (all manner of keys and clarinet). They made for a tight gang, the “two Brendans”, as Frances calls them, were part of her ‘Land Of No Junction’ band and since then key components of the ‘Protector’ project. This close relationship immediately fed into the lush sway and swoon of opener ‘Soft Lines’, all rippling guitar, tensing pulse and swirling Mellotron harmonics. The song lured us into a place where the rhythms were gentle but desperate undercurrents seemed to flow. Taking mid-tempo in another direction, the sultry, lo-fi trip hop of ‘Emptiness Follows’ then probed further, Frances pitching the despairing hook, “Emptiness follows me2 with phrasing that swelled with heartache.
From the off it became clear that new album ‘Protector’ was central to the evening’s set. This could have been risky, as the room’s familiarity with the songs seemed at best patchy but that didn’t diminish the band’s impact. The alt-country twang of ‘Chariot’ impressed with Jenkinson’s jaunty flute-toned keys colouring the story of uncertain escape, but the stretched out ‘Only Child’ stood out as a peak moment. Taking a Velvet’s slow chord churn and scaling it up to a full blasted swirling psych storm may have been easier in the studio, but on the night the trio’s surging coda proved equally seismic.
What the set also highlighted was the emotional clout of Aoife Nessa Frances’s song-writing. When she asked us to “Take a look at yourself” on ‘Only Child’ you could almost feel the floorboards shiver. A shame then that at times her voice got submerged in the general mix, its gorgeous, breathy Bobbie Gentry dramatics and Nico-esque darkness made less distinct. Maybe sensing these problems as the set unfolded, she spoke little between songs aside from the usual band introductions and standard “thanks for coming out”.
Not that onstage banter has ever been high up on Frances’s approach to stagecraft. Instead what was noticeable here was her evolving presence, more grounded, at ease and played out with assured glances that went beyond us and into the distance. There was also the confidence to look back and reimagine older songs from her debut. ‘Blow Up’ retained all its Marine Girls melodic twists and schmaltzy sixties charm whereas penultimate tune ‘Here In The Dark’ climbed higher on an upswing beat of hopefulness.
Fittingly the set closed with the jangling dream pop of ‘Way To Say Goodbye’, snug in seventies soft melodies, a warm rhythmic shuffle and some definitive prog synth. The lyrics may have mused that there was “no easy way to say goodbye” but ironically with a quick final thanks and no merch plugging the trio left briskly, leaving the crowd to drift away.
Winding down the Albert’s stairs we got the feeling that a few months down the line, when the songs from ‘Protector’ are more familiar, the anticipation needed to get the adrenaline really flying would have risen up several notches. As it was, this intriguing gig left us wanting to search deeper still into the intensity of Aoife Nessa Frances’s shimmering music.
Aoife Nessa Frances played at The Prince Albert on Wednesday 9th Nov 2022
Words by John Parry
Photos by Jon Southcoasting
