Hannah Frances – Keeper of the Shepherd Review

What does Hannah Frances sound like?

A beautiful ballet of rootsy folk, prog rock and the excavations of a traumatic past.

The review of ‘Keeper of the Shepherd’ by Hannah Frances

Trying to describe Hannah Frances’ music is tricky without diving into catch-all terms like rootsy, and folksy but aggressively prog rock too. Whilst the guitar folk forward album is all of those things, I come away more with a sense of burning urgency and circular dread each time I listen to the album. This is an album where feeling, emotion and simmering disquiet and unease survey an open soundscape of desolation and decimation. All of this takes place across seven dynamic tracks riddled with complex ideas too. It’s a think-and-feel album above its genre.

Hannah Frances opens with ‘Bronwyn’, which introduces us to the shepherd character who will be taking us through a tour of Hannah’s deepest thoughts and traumas. The album opens with a lyrically complex juggle. The Shepherd is both a blessing and curse, wrapped up in a religious soup of emotions that Hannah wrestles with. Ultimately, as the lyrics wrestle towards loving and losing someone, the guitars become grizzlier and more disjointed. What starts out as a calming yet sanguine piece gathers pace and momentum as it shifts into a lightly shoegazing guitar cascading outro. Hannah lost her father and this album is in many ways a diary of grief and the ripple effects of a complex relationship lost. The patriarchy, the religious guilt and the pain of loss are upfront in the title track. This epic track is a fast-paced settlers-rock that sounds like a Western on steroids. I feel like a caravan of death is riding through a valley and Hannah is crying out at all the pieces of herself she’s lost through her father’s passing. It’s both breathless and dynamic and the album standout on an album without filler.

After two tracks that encircle roots and prog rock, ‘Woolgathering’ leans into softer acoustic folk. Hannah’s falsetto is disarmingly vulnerable over the slow arpeggios of the guitar. The song is coated in vinyl spits, gentle harmonium and light percussion and reminds me of Johanna Warren. Both artists bring the grungy, witchy and uncomfortable chords of rock into a delicate setting beautifully. It is an important track for the album as it offers the idea of healing from trauma. This album is steeped in sadness yet there is always a light coming from somewhere. The avant-folk of ‘Floodplain’ explores this further. The main melody is purposefully offkey and Hannah uses her fingerwork on the guitar to smash certain strings as if another trauma is impacting her like a wound. As violins seep in like a sea of fears, there is a dawning and realisation by the song’s conclusion. The wildly emotive outro of lyrics I’ll copy below as the passage speaks to me at a soul level.

I want to be wanted. Don’t want to be forgotten but want to forget.

I want to be shaped by the love I have not haunted by the lack.

I want to be released from the growing pain in the floodplain…

How long have I kept you?

How long have I kept the light on?

How long have I been gone?

Hannah Frances – Floodplain

A sister song to ‘Woolgathering’ sonically, ‘Husk’ explores death as a character. The slow build of minimal guitar being played like a harp slowly envelopes out into a symphonic choir. Hannah Frances layers her voice like a fountain choir that overflows over rich violins and cello arrangements. Woodwind and Hannah’s voice take centre stage for ‘Vacant Intimacies’ for the early part of the track. This genre-defying track pours saxophone, cinematic drums, woodwind, electric guitar dramas and a commanding vocal performance into an art rock whirlpool. As Hannah pours out “I want the one who’s gone” you can cut the atmosphere with a knife. The album then closes with ‘Haunted Landscape, Echoing Cave’ – a song describing the ruins we are lifting ourselves out from. The dystopian gazing and muddy sound flips into jazzier elements as the saxophone returns and we leave those ruins behind. The track goes full 70s prog rock for the extended dreamy outro. As the reverb ripples out – dare I say we end in a psychedelic moment of euphoria? Who knows.

As you may be able to, ‘Keeper of the Shepherd’ resonated with me deeply. Having lost my father a couple of months ago, I feel like I’m still tripping over daily guilt and unable to carry many of the good and painful memories with me yet. I feel trapped because I don’t feel ready to tackle those emotions yet. Hannah Frances chronicles her grief with vulnerability and a deft lyrical touch. She has a deeper understanding of herself but acknowledges this is all very messy too. You don’t just hear it in the lyrics, the songs themselves have moments of displacement, panic and despair. For every moment of clarity to take what fits, there’s a primal urge to cling to the past too. I love how unceremonious this album is and I find myself hanging off every pick, strum and word. A strong contender for my album of the year.

Recommended track: Keeper of the Shepherd

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