New Single and B-Side

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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.

“In Tongues” – SW Reverb Review

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Spoken-Poetry and Jazz Infused Rock? That Sounds French.

French Letters is no different than any other spoken-word, hip-hop, jazz infused, avante-guard rock five-piece … they’re all over the place. In a good way, that is. In Tongues destroys any and every genre barrier a record store owner could possibly throw at it, and the result is a 10-song franken-album of emotional-meets-snarky poetry and a big band.

The CD flows staggered and unexpected, which is a fun aural treat. “When it Mattered” starts it off with spoken poetry over a steady, thumping bass. It’s short, yet punchy, with enough attitude to radiate through every track. Then, as if the bass never dies out, “West Ashley Crosstown” begins with upstroke, jazz guitar and soft drum rolls.

“Fried Chicken” stands out as the true ace, combining all the aspects of In Tongues into one, miniature opus. Spoken poetry builds into aggressive, almost punkish rock that’s alive and exciting.

While it’s not likely to jump to the top of any charts, French Letters have crafted a truly unique album that’s musically and emotionally impressive. Plus, it’s poetry. That has to count for something.

– JOE WILLIAMS, Seattle Weekly

“In Tongues” Now Available

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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.
A heartbeat.

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.