One By One

With cover art that mimics Bob Dylan's The Times They Are a-Changin' right down to the typeface, One by One demands (and, perhaps, deserves) to become a staple of the modern-day folk catalog. Nineteen-year-old Robert Francis is already impressively self-sufficient, playing nearly ever instrument -- from guitar to glockenspiel -- on this self-produced debut. It would be an understatement to say that Francis' musicianship belies his young age, as some of One's best songs already harbor the rustic, world-weary quality that many artists spend their careers cultivating. Whether or not Francis has actually experienced the pastoral blues that color his lyrics is beyond the point; his dusty baritone and heartland imagery make the potential fib worthwhile. From the right-handed piano twinkles of opener "Mama Don't Come" to the gorgeously hypnotic, looping closer, there's an airy sense of space to these ten songs. Even the album's most ornate material -- the seven-minute title track, perhaps, with its climax of co-ed vocals and sweeping violin -- is allotted enough room to breathe. When the orchestration becomes lush, Francis usually swoops in with a musical reprieve, be it a momentary break in a riff's rhythm or a touch of reverb to widen the sound. Even more interesting is his love for subtle, esoteric flourishes: a dog barking in the middle of "The Devil's Mountains," right before the bluesy pedal steel gives way to mariachi horns; delayed violin in verse two of "Little Girl"; the church-like harmonies in "Dakota." It's impressive proof that Francis' self-appointment as producer isn't the result of some youthful ego trip, but rather the most logical choice for a penny-pinched teenager -- or, for that matter, anyone whose music mirrors these rustic folk-pop strains. Dylan it ain't, but One by One is one solid debut. Andrew Leahey.