'The Unintentional Criminal' by FirstnameFrank

This is one what I wrote during a stroll the other week. Casanova took me5 years to finish, this one less than half an hour. I need to stroll more.

A man, a piano, a one bedroom flat, a laptop, a small collection of microphones, musical trinkets, and songs. FirstnameFrank is a simple new project from Frank Beaver, past-time band leader of a six piece vaudeville punk troupe, star27, and long-time teacher of piano, music, and media. Full-time reader, part-time painter, real-time drinker.

No promises, no deadlines and no complications; FirstnameFrank material will be uploaded here as it is recorded, and played live in venues as it is invited. While a one man band at its essence, collaborations in performance and production will happen from time to time and offers of such will always be welcome.

Thankyou for your time.

Category:

Music

Tags:

• preston
• piano
• star27
• frank
• beaver
• singer
• songwriter
• original
• compositiion
• composer
• drugs

[myfirstnameisfrank]

I am guessing you are the one and only Benny Swift of Yorkshire? In which case his is a wonderful if unexpected treat and surprise. I am made up that you survived your own death and you live to type to this very day. Splendid.

[wearetheswifts]

Aye, the very one and the same. Likewise I am pleased that you are still mining a rich seam of creativity with your eccentric and idiosyncratic talent for songsmithing. Still watch the old Star27 vids on Youtube from time to time (usually after a rare visit to the pub - beer, a great lubricant for nostalgia) and it puts a smile on my face and makes me feel proud of what we achieved. Say hello to Russ, Tom, Helen and Rach from me should you see them. Hope all is well in Paris, I mean, Preston.

[wearetheswifts]

I thought you'd be dead by now Frank but you're alive and looking quite well. Quelle surprise! Of course, I died back in 2007 in a National Express depot in Birmingham. Two guitars, one suit bag, one hold all and a sleeping bag. Alas, the sleeping bag was the last straw and I could take no more... Or was it the sour odour of the seven year old's vomit on the seat behind me recycling through the air con all the way from London? Who knows?!

By the way, nice ditties (ooh err missus!).