I'm Sorry It Took Me So Long

Amos Lee, Caamp, Blink 182, and a forgotten legend

I'm sorry it took me so long
I'm sorry it took me so long (To come around)
I'm sorry it took me so long (To come around)

—Taking Back Sunday

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Very sorry, y’all. We’re late to the game, but we’re here with three recommendations and a legendary Bonus Track about a forgotten legend. By the way, that’s a good future Swap theme—forgotten legends. Take it to the bank. Until then, enjoy this eleventh-hour edition of the Music Swap.

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Fruits of My Labor by Amos Lee (Ben)

This song is off a new Amos Lee record. He’s done projects with the likes of Norah Jones (where I first discovered him) and Willie Nelson. He even credits John Prine’s music with inspiring him to be a musician. This album is another example of collaboration. Enjoy 1 of the 2 early released songs that combine his unique vocal tones with the lyrics of Lucinda Williams.

Also available on Apple Music.

Misty by Caamp (Jonathan)

Caamp is one of my most listened-to bands as of the past couple of years, or so Spotify tells me. Some groups interest me for just a few songs, but Caamp’s sound is worthy of full album listening sessions. My pick today is a song of theirs from 2016 that got me on to them.

Also available on Apple Music.

I Miss You by Blink 182 (Kody)

My friend Zac reminded me this week of a category that could make for a future-themed edition of the Swap - “Secret Slappers.” These are songs that don’t usually come to mind but absolutely slap. We discussed this idea after he had sent me Blink 182’s I Miss You. Boy is this an emo banger. So much emotion going on here. As I’ve listened to it in the car, the song has caught the attention of my four-year-old. It’s really funny hearing him sing at the top of his lungs, “DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME ON ME YOU’RE ALREADY THE VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD.”

Also available on Apple Music.

Bonus Track: A Forgotten Legend - Jackson C. Frank by Eddie LaRow

For Buffalo New York, November 13, 1965 was a typical Autumn day. With temperatures in the 50s it was perhaps even warm to some. Looking down from the upper stories of One M&T Plaza (still under construction) one could make out notable landmarks such as the Old Post Office with its Gothic architecture and cathedral-inspired tower, and the ten story Ellicott Square Building, with its Art Deco trim reminding each passerby of better days, when the city was a thriving metropolis on the cusp of greatness.

For one musical artist, the year 1965 would prove—like the city (Buffalo) in which he was born—to be a year of transformation. And like Buffalo, his outlook was bleak. Jackson C. Frank, an artist whom the Guardian regarded as “a forgotten legend” was born in Buffalo, New York on March 2, 1943. Cited by some of the greatest folk musicians as a key influence (Nick Drake and Simon and Garfunkel to list a few), Frank’s sound is best described as the fusion of the picking of Mississippi John Hurt and the guttural voice of Tim Buckley.

Frank’s life was marred by depression and underappreciation. Once a pinnacle of the folk music scene, Frank eventually died in obscurity, without a penny to his name. From the stage of Woodstock to the streets of New York City, Frank’s story is one of betrayal, hardship, and loss. Perhaps this is what gave Frank some of the lyrical power evidenced in his only album, “Jackson C. Frank.”

Each track carries with it the deep pain Frank carried with him, and this is perhaps what makes his music that much more powerful. Some notable tracks include “Blues Run the Game,” “Here Comes the Blues,” and “Don’t Look Back.” For the purpose of time, we will focus on the final track of the original release, “You Never Wanted Me.”

Beginning with picking similar to “Blues Run the Game” the lyrics open with chilling precision regarding love once lost:

Wondering and waiting

My back against the wall

Not a word that passed between us

Comes to call

Just your shadow on the window

And your step on down the hall

You never wanted me babe

You never knew me at all

While in Woodstock, Franke married Elaine Sedgwick, an English model. Later they had a son and later a daughter. Their son died tragically of cystic fibrosis which led to Frank’s downward spiral. Separated from his wife and trapped in anguish, Frank bears his heart in his lyrics.

I haven't any picture

To set before my eyes

Nothing to blame

When the blues start to rise

Just the memory of laughter

And the living out of lies

And if I could change my ways babe

You'd never have said goodbye

“If I could change my ways babe,” is a cry for forgiveness, but struggling with mental illness is far from a simple struggle. Frank, yearning for reconciliation, was in the throws of a war with his own mental health.

What can we take away from such a tragic life? Like the city of Buffalo, Frank viewed his best days as behind him and saw in his future only strife. Yet in 2023 his music has taken on a second life. Musicians like John Mayer and Counting Crows have performed moving covers of Frank’s music. Frank’s life is a testimony to the power of lyrics inspired by real life difficulty, but also to the importance of cherishing those around us who are fighting an invisible war: the war of mental health.

As you listen to this track, you can feel the weight of each written word and you find it impossible not to feel for Jackson C. Frank, “a forgotten legend.”

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Eddie LaRow lives in Peoria, IL. He’s a PhD student and a marketing professional in the publishing industry. His favorite bands in high school were The Wombats and Matt & Kim. His most recent live show was Ray Lamontagne at the Chicago Theatre.

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Thanks for waiting up for us!

-TheMusicSwap