Jackson C. Frank’s music and pain were always intertwined. As a boy, a furnace exploded at his school, killing 15 of his classmates and badly burning Frank. As he recovered in the hospital, a teacher brought him an acoustic guitar to keep him occupied. It’s impossible not to hear traces of that hurt echoing in the songs of his 1965 self-titled LP. Produced by his friend Paul Simon in London, where . . .
Only the good shit. Aquarium Drunkard is powered by its patrons. Keep the servers humming and help us continue doing it by pledging your support.
To continue reading, become a member or log in.