In Conversation: Francis Lung

Photo by Coralie Monnet.

While it is tempting to view those albums recorded wholly or in part during the pandemic as more personal works, in the case of Francis Lung’s sophomore effort, Miracle, it is actually true. Begun in rural Wales at Giant Wafer studios and finished in proper at his home, Francis reflects on his struggles with mental health, relationships and substances (including alcohol, which he gave up at the beginning of 2021) with a relatable vulnerability and deft sense of arrangement and melody that recall the great pop rock acts of yore. Coincident with the albums’ release, Lung sat down with The Eisenberg Review for a conversation about his new album, creative process and life changes.

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Because of the last 15 to 18 months and how hard they have been for all of us, I have to begin by asking genuinely: how are you?

That’s so nice of you to ask. I’m alright. I’m doing fine. As well as playing music, I teach English, so throughout this whole pandemic my life didn’t change that much. All my work is based online, so I just carried on as normal. I think I even worked more, which is quite good for focus, but then of course, it got very claustrophobic quite quickly. Even thought I wasn’t bored like a lot of people might have felt, I was a bit of a workaholic and I couldn’t really stop. All the extra time I had to work because more people wanted English lessons made me work harder on music as well because I wanted to make up for that time that I wasn’t creating. I definitely could have been easier on myself. Some nice things have happened, though. I got married last week, which was a really lovely thing, and I’m going to be moving to France soon.

That’s fantastic. And, it should be noted, you finished your excellent new album Miracle during that time as well. Upon hearing “Bad Hair Day” I was immediately taken with the song’s strong melodies and fluid arrangement and have been hooked ever since. To get down to brass tacks: why do you make music?

I think, like a lot of people, if I don’t have a purpose, I feel very lost. One of the things I do to give myself purpose is writing songs. I suppose I keep doing it because I’m addicted to the process. You probably have this in other formats and mediums, but the finished album is not the best bit. The finished song isn’t even the best part for me. It’s always the making. So, I have to get myself embroiled in starting another one just so I can be right in the middle of that process. Then, of course, you have to finish it, because if you don’t finish it, your head is too full of that record and you can’t make another one. The thing is, it might sound weird to say that the finished record is not the nice thing to have, because it is, but for me, a record is already about 60% done in my head. I know what it’s going to be, I know what the order is going to be, so the idea of the record is strong in my mind and it already exists. It’s nice when it’s a physical thing, but for me, I’ve already moved past that point of it being a real thing for me as an idea or piece from start to finish. It’s been that way for the first two for me, anyway.

That’s really interesting and I feel like that should resonate with people pretty deeply. It’s the old cliche about life being a journey and not a destination. That makes me even more interested in what the creative process looks like for you. With Miracle, you started tracking it in a studio and ended up finishing a lot of it in your home studio. When you’re talking about that 60% that you hear in your head, where you able to get out most of that in the studio and then do the remaining 40% at home? What did the process of recording this record look like during the pandemic?

It was two five day sessions in the studio, about ten days in total. I got most of it done there, which I’m really happy about because finishing half a record and then trying to do half of it at home is not fun. That’s what I had to do with my first album. I didn’t do any vocals in the studio on the first one, for instance, which I wanted to change. It changes your performance having to sing for somebody—your producer, engineer, or someone that you trust—and makes it better, I think. By the time I took the record home, I just focused on the things that were easy to make sound good at home, like recording stereo organs DI or making the sections in between the songs, which is something that I did after I couldn’t change the track listing any more. There were moments where I still didn’t think two songs fit together perfectly, so I had to bridge the gap with something. For those sections in between the songs, I would just improvise. I loved making them because I started with nothing. I wrote and recorded it on the spot and by the end of it I had this piece of music that didn’t need to be labored over like I might have done with some of the songs. It was really fresh... The whole studio thing is cool because I planned to do loads of stuff that was very difficult to get a good sound on, like guitar solos and guitars in general. Once that’s all done, its the decoration, if you like, or the icing on the cake that’s done at home.

I think there’s a tendency to view a lot of the music produced during the last 15 to 18 months as more introspective and pandemic-related because we had all that time, but it really seems in the case of Miracle, at least in the cuts that I’ve heard, that it is a pretty introspective record for you. You are working through things emotionally in your personal life and in relationships. I’m curious as to what the miracle is that the title of the record is referring to in processing all of that. Is it the catharsis that comes from being able to work through all that stuff through music, or is it something else?

It’s the classic musician thing, but, I do want to leave it open to interpretation. Originally, it comes from the song “Miracle,” which says “It would take a miracle to make it.” It was referring to music as a way of me helping to cope with things like life or as a metaphor for art as something that can help you cope. I was quite sincere in my emotion for that song. It was quite a desperate moment for me. Emotionally, I was quite dispirited in general and it felt sort of like a breaking point song. It was kind of interesting for me to step back and think “Oh, maybe I could call the album ‘Miracle.’” It’s sort of like wishing something into being, creating the change that you want to see. If you need a miracle, then make one. It’s a bit lofty, maybe, but it seemed like a nice idea and a little bit ostentatious. I feel like if you’re not taking the risk, then it’s not good.

I hear you. It always makes me think of a great Jeff Buckley quote about living being the truest form of art. As long as you’re expressing yourself, even if its in an aspirational sense like what you’re describing, making your own miracle, that is art. I am quite a bit fan of a lot of the lush instrumentation on this record, I know Baroque pop and Beatle-esque pop get thrown around a lot when describing your music. I’m curious: who or what inspires you and the music that you make?

I’m trying to chase things that cause feelings within me, whether that’s the way that words are delivered, the way that people speak or sing. That’s a big influence on me… What inspires me is trying to create something that’s really effective. I get inspired by ideas, songs, or other people’s ideas or songs. I really like Stephin Merritt of the Magnetic Fields and how he take a concept for an album—not just 69 Love Songs, he almost has a concept for every album—and the way that he uses that as parenthesis for the project and how it all is formatted. I just think that’s so brilliant. It’s a cliche, but having some sort of confines aids the creative process. The way he pulls it off with such a great efficacy, it’s effortless. I’m really inspired by concepts, in that a sense. I don’t mean a concept record, but, when I write a song like “Blondes Have More Fun,” for instance, that song started out with me just singing to myself “I just want to die.” I mean, we all have those thoughts and they’re not particularly nice. I was feeling very dark, but it was also was one of those moments when you feel so low you just think to yourself “I just want to die.” It sounds ridiculous, but when you externalize those thoughts, that’s what they sound like sometimes. I thought it would be funny to say that, leave a pause and then follow by saying “I want to die my hair blonde,” sort of messing with the listener. I saw a concept within that and I chased it: the idea of changing your hair color. What does that mean? Trying to change something external, change something internal… And so I’m chasing all those little concepts within that song to write it and I’m trying to do that in the most effective way. That comes out sounding incredibly personal, but it’s not really about me. I’m just trying to express the sentiment of that potential song as best as I can. Like, the second verse talks about dying my hair black and then I write about what it would be like to be a goth and maybe giving Robert Smith a run for his money. Obviously, it’s just a joke, but I can see myself trying to cheer myself up in that song. That’s another reason why I do it. To make something cool that I like. It makes me happy. It makes me proud of myself.

What are three records that you’d recommend to the audience?

If you like my stuff, you’ll like the first three albums by Emitt Rhodes. They’re always smooshed together as a three CD compilation or something. It’s an incredible collection of songs.

Joni Mitchell, anything, but Blue just feels like home to me… I don’t think she goes out of pitch once. It’s incredible. She’s razor sharp in her writing and her singing.

Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor. That’s a bit of a touchstone for me in terms of when I put it on, it makes me weep.