I tend to stack preview albums, EPs and songs in my Vox app, which means I routinely scroll through dozens upon dozens of tracks to find what I’m about to spotlight. I press play, listen and think of what to write, and when the set ends, an album, EP or song from a different artist kicks in. It makes for some strange segues—from the avant-garde stylings of Christian Winther to the folky flavors of JM Stevens to the retro-grooves of Mondo Freaks to this, the esoteric spoken-word musings of Eilis Frawley. She’s a Berlin-based Aussie artist whose Fall Forward has been in regular rotation for me for about a month now, yet I heard it a-new last week when it fell between the funky Freaks and Nicole McCabe’s abstract jazz.
To call Fall Forward “spoken word” is a bit of a misnomer, in a way. Frawley’s percussive musings are supported by a cushiony sonic bed that’s feathery soft yet oddly firm. It’s quite the compelling listen, part jazz, part pop, and part krautrock. She speaks, sings and sing-songs in-between, serious yet funny. The opening “Be a Lady” channels the old Tom Jones hit “She’s a Lady,” for instance, with that upbeat tune swirling into and out of focus while Frawley ruminates on the word “lady,” which once was reserved for women of high society but now serves as a term of respect for all women—unless, like “dear” often is, it’s employed in a condescending manner. She also broaches how pop culture shapes minds and excoriates the contradictory messages doled out like candy to the young.
“People” examines friends and lovers who, no doubt damaged by past relationships, come together for weekend fun sans actual intimacy: “Let’s never trade/Our thoughts tainted by distress and despair/our worlds a mystery/Seems like just yesterday we set ourselves free/A glimpse of what could be, so scary we’d rather not know/Send a postcard from your next destination.” (Surface-level connections spare us heartbreak, after all.) “Hallucinations,” for its part, implores someone—herself, perhaps—to make her self-inflicted suffering a hobby, not a habit. “Waters,” which follows, finds her musing on the strained nature of some relationships, from mother-daughter to siblings to childhood friends, where bonds form from a mutual enemy, not shared interests or—dare I use the word?—love. That means, as days turn into weeks, months and years, our orbits invariably drift apart. As she explains, “How different stars can look when you’re forever moving away.”
Frawley’s rhythmic intonations and wordplay are playful and serious, often both at once, while the music itself is simultaneously laidback and propulsive. The title track, for example, opens with a stark admission worthy of Denise Levertov: “Last night I dreamt of my own cremation.” Fiery ends are not the song’s focus; rather, facing one’s fears and insecurities are. “Dirty Tricks,” on the other hand, reminds me of Kasey Chambers’ audio book, Just Don’t Be a D*ckhead, for no other reason than their shared Australian accents—and, too, like Chambers’ tome, it imparts worthwhile life lessons: “Experience has no chapters” and, as importantly, “life deals dirty tricks.” I.e. life ain’t all peaches and cream.
Frawley, who’s played drums for Laura Lee & the Jettes, Party Fears and I Drew Blank, co-produces the 11-track set with fellow Aussie expat Kat Frankie, who’s lived in Berlin since 2004. Together, they’ve shaped a set that blends infectious beats with poetic insights. The first time I listened to it, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. However, as I mentioned up top, when I heard it sandwiched between the disco beats of Mondo Freaks and jazz stylings of Nicole McCabe, the jagged shards formed a full pane of glass—a window, if you will, into the wider world. (That says more about me than Fall Forward, by the way.) It’s avant-garde in form and substance yet, somehow, also strangely mainstream, coming across like an audiobook that frames its poetic passages with intoxicating rhythms and the narrator’s engaging cadence.
The Old Grey Cat 
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