Billy Franks is not your typical pop singer. For a start, he offers me a drink. I ask for a pint of Thatcher’s. Franks throws his head back and laughs at the irony. I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine.
At the age of 54, Franks, who released his first single, “Get Out Of My Way” with teen band Scruff more than 30 years ago, could be forgiven for feeling that he has missed the boat. After all, his brand of finely wrought three-minute rock songs, honed in working men’s clubs, haven’t filled the upper end of the music charts since the eighties, when Franks narrowly missed out on super stardom with his band the Faith Brothers. Surprisingly, he feels no nostalgia for the decade, during which he got to tour in a supporting role with giants REM and U2. REM’s Peter Buck remains a fan and even Bono has apparently admitted to “stealing ideas” from Franks’ songs. It was after hearing a song about the Falklands War, called “The Easter Parade”, that Bono issued the invite to join U2 on tour. Franks still rates U2 as a band, but reserves greater reverence for songwriters, citing both Paul McCartney and Cole Porter. I put it to him that he slots easily into a peculiarly British songwriting sensibility, occupied by Ray Davies and Kirsty MacColl. “The greatest compliment I ever received was from someone who said that I wrote like McCartney but performed like Springsteen.” This is certainly borne out by Franks’ later performance at London’s Bush Hall.
Writing songs is, says Franks, a compulsion he has used “to get myself out of a lot of trouble in the past”. He makes no apology for “making music only for myself, in the hope that other people will want to listen to it” and has recently been busy re-acquainting himself with the honesty of country singers such as Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson. “I love the brutality of country music.” Many of Franks’ fans have been coming to his frequent live gigs for “so long now that they have become friends” and an almost tangible love and goodwill fills the auditorium wherever he plays. Among those fans in attendance is often a certain HRH Harry Wales, who has been treated to more than one private gig. In addition to raising money for charities supported by the prince Franks also recently performed at the wedding of Harry’s equerry. But doesn’t this royal patronage sit uneasily with Franks’ former flirtation with Red Wedge, a group of artists including Jerry Dammers, Paul Weller and Billy Bragg who performed on behalf of the Labour Party in the 1980s? This political collective, much parodied since, came about after a meeting between Franks and Bragg’s manager, although Franks’ own involvement was short-lived. “To be honest, I have no fixed political views. I’m not a man to take sides. Taking sides gives you enemies. I was led towards socialism by literature, Orwell and Wilde.” Having grown up in a series of hostels and halfway houses in what he describes as “extreme poverty”, Franks is passionate that “everyone deserves the same start, the same access to education and to health. That wasn’t the case when I was a kid and I don’t necessarily think it’s the case now.” I ask about his education and am surprised when Franks responds: “I never had one. I am entirely autodidactic.” Franks response to “being caned at school for being left-handed” was to steal his brother’s birth certificate and run away with a touring theatre group. It was while touring in a production of Peter Pan, as one of the Lost Boys, that Franks discovered the guitar and began to make music at the age of 15 learning the Beatles’ back catalogue before beginning to write his own songs.
The joy Franks experienced from this remains evident in his own performances and recordings to this day. Seldom has anyone expressed so much private happiness while on stage or on record, and it makes him almost unique among his peers – that and the sheer bloody-minded integrity which made him turn down the biggest gig in history. “The Faith Brothers shared the same agent as Bob Geldof, U2 and Queen. As a result, we were asked to play Live Aid, as the token unknown act.” So what the hell stopped him? “I thought in principle it would be a very mercenary thing to do. No one was going to donate money because we were on the bill. It would have been no more than a career move.”
I point out that such concerns didn’t stop others clogging up the programme. Franks claims to have no regrets. “It would have been obvious why we there. I guess I suffered an overdose of integrity then. I still have it now.”
I ask whether behaving badly as a person makes you a more successful pop star. “Yes. People who spend too much time and energy on ambition don’t spend enough doing their job.” A wider audience will get to see how much time Franks has dedicated to honing his own craft with the upcoming film Tribute This, in which some of America’s biggest recording stars are asked to record a song by Franks, who describes the project as “a road movie with music”.
If you can’t wait for the film, then visit www.billyfranks.com/euphoria.html to download for free 12 of Franks’ best songs spanning thee decades. His CD The Turtledove Boutique is available now.
