French Letters follow up our acclaimed debut album with a new single called “Los Alamos”, a taut pop tune constructed around the idea of escape, geographic redemption, and sonic salvation. Peppered with catchy guitar hooks and a stellar guitar solo, an insistent drum beat and punchy bass line propel the track, much like the gasoline in the car Crossley sings about in the song’s lyrics.
The B-side is a first for us, a ballad waltz named “Annie, Queen of Belltown“. The title is an homage to Springsteen and his song, “Mary, Queen of Arkansas”. The subtle warmth of acoustic guitars and ringing of the twelve string make the perfect underpinnings for the tale of doomed young love, including haunting, ethereal back up vocals.
Check out the music blog Back Beat Seattle for photos from the showcase we played at Blue Moon. Thanks again to Dagmar for having us out and getting such great pics.
View more at http://backbeatseattle.com/photos/frenchletters/gallery.html
Primordial New Orleans and St. Louis jazz by way of dirty Delta R&B, you follow the Mississippi River as it snakes its way up to its confluence with the Ohio River.
You follow Lomax to Pere Ubu and the Pretenders.
Rock n’ roll is coined after punk in French Letters’ reality.
Buddy Holly saunters in from the deserts of east Texas. From the rusted wastelands of the Midwest a lone radio signal beams in to the FM radio and it’s the Modern Lovers.
Somewhere in the South there is a poet who is in love but he doesn’t have the girl,
all he’s got is a microphone and a bottle of gin.
The primal, jungle drums of hip-hop, born in east Bronx and now beating along to the caterwauls of the lovelorn poet.
The staccato bass line of post punk, strung out along the tracks like telephone wires
hung taut, each thump a crow newly perched.
A bird of prey.
The high winsome sound of Gram Parsons’s ghost, humming from the shadows. There’s George Jones and skeletons in this closet, American or otherwise, wiping away maudlin tears with a dirty old shirt.
Machine gun fire ranting about a waitress,
it holds steady until Jagger arrives.
“In Tongues” fries its chicken in Pentecostal hell fire
and serves it on plates of gypsy brimstone.
The physical copy of our 10 track album is packaged in a booklet containing the lyrics in poetry form. Available through French Letters’ Bandcamp page.