Guest Writer: Calvin Johnson
Blues Run the Game: Jackson C. Frank

There a lot of names that come to mind when I hear "Greatest Band of all Time". Many of them have extensive catalogs of impressive material: Bo Diddley, Unwound, Rolling Stones, Lesley Gore, Milkshakes, John Lee Hooker, the Fall, Webb Pierce, Holly Golightly, the Beatles, Betty Everett, the Impressions, George Jones, James Brown, Fugazi and Annette Funicello have all released album after album of music incredible, all qualify for the status of Greatest Band of all Time. But I am captivated by the work of a man who made only one album. It was all he needed to make. He is Jackson C. Frank.

I'd never heard of him before February when I was playing in Bristol, England. I walked into the house I was staying and my hosts Lisa and Tom had just put on a record. I stopped dead.

"What is this?"

"A folk singer from the '60s, Jackson C. Frank. It's produced by Paul Simon, I guess he was a big influence on Simon & Garfunkel".

What the wtf. The album they had was a bootleg reissue of the 1965 Columbia album Jackson C. Frank, his sole release, long out of print and impossible to find.

Don't know what got me so immediately about it. A man, a guitar, some songs, a legend. It was just clear and simple and spoke volumes. These songs, I can't get away from them. They really are nothing special except to me. And a bunch of people who met him, and some Brit folk types who don't mean much to me like Bert Jansch, Sandy Denny, Al Stewart. He was American, spent the mid-'60s in England, playing shows and influencing a generation of folk-rockers. Being a "major influence" doesn't mean a hill of beans; impressionable Brits come cheap. The songs though, they last forever and "Blues Run the Game", "Kimbie", "My Name Is Carnival" are immortal. He apparently recorded several sessions for the BBC. Why haven't these been released? Somebody get on that.

Digging deeper there is a tragic back story. The equivalent of one fourth of Frank's hard times has made legends of mediocrities with a tenth of Frank's magic. For instance, when he was a kid the furnace exploded at his elementary school, killing most of his classmates. He suffered burns that took over a year to heal. The insurance settlement from the accident was paid to him when he reached the age of 21, so he moved to London, where he shared an apartment with the aforementioned Simon & Garfunkel. His album was recorded in three hours and went nowhere. He married, his child died in infancy, his wife left him. He was homeless on the streets for years, lost the use of his legs and someone randomly shot him in the eye. None of this matters. He could have spent the years after recording Jackson C. Frank as a successful tax accountant, preparing to retire to his vacation home in Florida, wouldn't change the fact that the Jackson C. Frank album touches deep. He was only 22 when he made this record, but he sounds like he could have been 40. When he was 40, he looked like he was 60. He died at the age of 56.

One clue to Frank's genius: when he was 13, still recovering from severe burns, his family took him to Graceland because he loved Elvis Presley. He sat at the bottom of the driveway, and was surprised when Elvis came out, introduced himself and took Frank into the house to meet the parents. This was in 1956. Heartbreak Hotel. Jesus Christ. Could kill a man. Or make him stronger.