I was reminded of, and exasperated by, this same songwriting brilliance more recently when I headed down to New York City to play bass on a bunch of new Human Hearts songs, the moniker Franklin’s adopted as his 21st Century nom de rock. The thing about Franklin’s songs, and perhaps the thing that’s kept them from reaching the audience they deserve, is that they conceal much of what makes them amazing, both lyrically and musically; they’re like ingenious puzzles, seamless on the outside, wondrously complex on the inside. Working up my parts I realized again that this was truly the only way to fully appreciate them: to sit down and actually learn these songs, figure them out, bring their secrets to light. If you’re a musician, try it. If you’re not, ask a musician friend, watch as he’s driven crazy trying to figure out what’s going on, then behold the look of admiration and satisfaction that spreads across his face when he gets it. Or she, of course. Franklin’s an equal opportunity enigma.

On the drive down I reacquainted myself with maybe my favorite Franklin album ever, band or solo, 2002′s A Cat May Look at a Queen. In its seeming simplicity and directness it defies much of what I’ve said above, but here’s the song during which my girlfriend, Patricia, not a huge music person and one not generally given to overstatement in any context, turned to me and said solemnly: “Your friend is very talented.” That he is.

[audio:05%20Tired%20Of%20The%20West.mp3]

Here’s an excerpt from a 2000 program, Karma, Part 6, that came up on the ipod the other day and, in its mordant humor, hints at the nature of his larger project. It’s also clear from this that Joe Frank has never heard Furniture Huschle.

[audio:Karma%20Part%206%20(excerpt).mp3]