Frank Black

Frank Black has gone solo again -- for the first time in nearly a decade -- but he hasn't turned his back on good company. This time, though, he has left the noisy Catholics and world-conquering Pixies for a collection of Nashville legends and musician's musicians. Black calls the result "the most moving and mind-blowing experience I've ever had in my musical career." That will make his fans happy, but will they feel the same?

Honeycomb is not, in truth, a mind-blowing listening experience. The only blown minds will probably belong to horrified casual Pixies fans that come around looking for a "Velouria" redux. Black's Nashville album -- constructed in and inspired by the city of legendary twang -- has other designs, and the effect is along the lines of reading a pastoral autobiography from an established science fiction novelist. Seldom have traditional Americana and country arrangements, played so expertly by seasoned session pros, sounded so disconcerting upon first listen (even fourth listen).

The departure is only partially about the old-time, down-home feel of the songs. For a man lyrically renowned for obscure religious iconography and UFO references, Frank's songwriting on Honeycomb is starkly literal and personal. These are transitional tunes about faded love and packed bags, and, ultimately and sometimes simultaneously, new love and redemption. There's a song named after the new woman in his life ("Violet"), and a jaunty duet about divorce with his ex-wife ("Strange Goodbye").

While Black had wanted to make an album like this for years, the actual assembly of Honeycomb took only a few days. This doesn't necessarily translate into spontaneity, but it is easy to feel the energy and camaraderie of the sessions. Indeed, the limited time may have made it harder to stray from predictability on covers like "Dark End of the Street" and "Song of the Shrimp." But the originals almost all hit the mark ("Sing For Joy," "Go Find Your Saint," and "I Burn Today" are all good places to start), and anyone who mistakes Black's change of pace for assimilation isn't paying close enough attention to the chords. This is his version of The Straight Story, but he hasn't entirely abandoned his curveball. And, like that film, the human center, open regret and linear matter-of-factness of Honeycomb are rendered more poignant by the brilliant, sometimes baffling opaqueness of the preceding catalog. - Adam McKibbin, The Red Alert

Leave it to Frank Black to have his cake and eat it, too: by releasing Honeycomb, his Nashville-recorded collaboration with session legends including Steve Cropper, Anton Fig, and Spooner Oldham, while his reunion tour with the Pixies continued, he could follow his bliss and please his longtime fans. Those who thought Black's later work sounded like the output of a bad bar band probably won't get Honeycomb either, but at least the reunited Pixies should satisfy their longings to hear him shriek about surrealism and incest like he did in the good old days. On paper, Black might not seem like the likeliest fit with Cropper, Fig, et al., but the early-rock roots of the Pixies' mutated surf-punk-pop and the country and roots rock flirtations of his later career suggest otherwise (and "In the Midnight Hour," which Cropper co-wrote, was one of the first songs that Black ever played live). Honeycomb's songs feel tailored to the experience of recording with these musicians in this location, and have a sophistication that Black might not have been able to get with another group of players: the affably drunken "Another Velvet Nightmare" floats by on Oldham's elegantly wasted piano lines, and the band as a whole makes the cover of Dan Penn and Chips Moman's "Dark End of the Street" that much more soulful and genuine. Another cover, Doug Sahm's "Sunday Sunny Mill Valley Groove Day," pays tribute to one of the most prominent influences on Black's later post-Pixies work. Yet, despite the homages to his influences, the musicians playing with him, and the very town in which the album was recorded, Honeycomb is one of Black's most intimate collections of songs, and the closest he's come to a traditional singer/songwriter solo album. Even in this more straightforward territory, though, Black's imagery remains unique: "Selkie Bride" places the beguiling sea spirit of Orkney legend in modern times; the woman he's looking for in the title track has "cherry brown lips of maple"; and "Atom in My Heart" mixes straight-up country with science. Like Show Me Your Tears, Honeycomb is a remarkably personal album, and it's still a bit of a shock to hear one of alternative rock's most famously cryptic artists reveal so much about his life in his music. Black's songs are increasingly about coming to terms with life's realities and disappointments, but they end up feeling more liberating than depressing. "I Burn Today" and "Lone Child" carry on with the dancing-on-your-troubles approach of Show Me Your Tears. "Strange Goodbye," meanwhile, is a remarkably cheery postmortem of Black's marriage -- sung as a duet with his soon to be ex-wife, Jean -- that ends up being one of the highlights of his post-Pixies career. Considering that the album was recorded in just four days, Honeycomb is a remarkably strong album, and even on weaker tracks like "My Life Is in Storage," the playing on it always shines. Unlike some of his peers, not only is Frank Black still here, he's making music that isn't just a rehash of his salad days. With the therapy/roots rock of Show Me Your Tears, the disc of Pixies "covers" on Frank Black Francis, and this album, Black proves that he isn't just open to change in his solo work, he embraces it. Honeycomb is steeped in tradition, yet manages to buck it at the same time; while not all Pixies and Frank Black fans will appreciate its mellow maturity, it's an intimate treat for those who follow its lead. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide