On Phantasmagoria, Americana singer-songwriter Robert Francis uses his sister’s collection of analogue synthesizers salvaged from the 2025 California fires as the “beating heart” to express his folk narrative.
The album’s very first notes on the opener “State Line” are made by surreal synths that fade in, sounding as if they have been plucked right out of the opening credits of an Eighties low-budget sci-fi flick. When Francis’ smoky vocals kick in, they have the profoundness of the likes of Robbie Robertson and Chris Rea, highlighted by gorgeously contemplative classic rock guitars played with the soul of blues and slickness of pop.
This combination of fashionably dressed up, down-to-earth rock music with uncanny synths, which courses through the album’s veins, creates a sense of space that’s vast, and time that’s slow, as if one is deeply lost whilst stargazing.
But Francis also messes with the tranquility of this fanciful moment, as if actually transporting you into the depths of this weird and wonderful interstellar world that you were just gazing at. Francis’ folky science-fictiony world gets even more interesting on the ensuing cut “Midnight On Mulholland,” where the bizarrely frenetic (and utterly angelic) chorus (that’s almost like a different song in contrast with the calm verse) sounds otherworldly with Francis’ “phantasmic” paper-thin vocals.
“Phantasmagorical” recalls the strangeness of early Peter Gabriel with its combination of odd singing and deep shadowy backing vocals, all held together by a complex rhythm. “Pan Pan (Port O’ Call)” gets weirder, where Francis’ vocals, when sung through a vocoder, sounds extraterrestrial, with its “sea shanty” words sung with a spooky singing cadence, and a rhythm with constantly shifting time signatures. “Eden” too has an Eighties art rock appeal with its complex musical fabric and a dominating synth presence.
While more straightforward tracks such as “The Mountain” and “When You Are Alone”—that tap into nothing more than Francis’ Americana roots—might sound more surface level classic rock in comparison, there is a contemplative depth to them that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Francis’ very peculiar direction with this album of taking his heartland roots and tossing them into a world of synths that inhabit their own fantastical world feels neither gutsy nor self-indulgent; it feels just natural. His new musical direction not only works, but works spectacularly well, for at its core, his rootsy heart still beats strong making sure he never goes astray.
