Stewart Francke & the Regular Boys Live @ White's Bar
Saturday July 23rd, 2005

I never really listened to any of Stewart Francke’s music before this show despite the fact that he’s played White’s three times before. I even own five of his albums – maybe I never truly took time to listen closely, intently. Though I played Bang Bang Kiss Kiss - the song itself as well as the Best of Comp - I never developed an intimate knowledge of either Stewart or his craft. I knew he was a cancer survivor. But his courage in facing a painful cancer death never penetrated my shield of awareness...though I can't quite understand my almost cruel disregard, 'cos I do care, at least I think I do. Maybe it was when I met Stewart for the first time. He was long into his recovery, he looked great and didn't talk about it. So I just didn't know about agony and self-doubt...the power of illness to remind us of our human frailty and the ugliness associated in a battle of life or death and the ultimate triumph of an honorable struggle and spiritual rebirth during a frightening stem cell transplant. But it didn't resonate with me - even though I limped through my own struggle with cancer, basal cell carcinoma, a common and somewhat benign form of skin cancer - until I read Stewart's book and when I came to the part where his wife reminds Stewart of their deal,
"Are you giving up, Stewart?" - I cried.
Unlike Stewart I approached cancer with all the self-serving pity and righteousness of a coward too afraid of the consequences if he told the truth and was found to be a fraud. I was truly frightened and my fright exposed my weaknesses and my fear of the unknown. Still, cancer became my friend by introducing me to the specter of a foreshortened future and my own spiritual journey. Cancer gave me an opportunity to change my future by facing my past…finally… and without the protective filter of a needful and selective memory. Perhaps I resisted Stewart because he was so clever and had so much courage. It was more convenient to look with a jaded eye.

Stewart recalls the turning point in his recovery – the moment of them all,
“That was a brutally heartbreaking moment, as it was something we had discussed and something I had assured her I’d never do. It also made me aware of just how dire things were and truly motivated me to get outta that bed if I could.”*

Stewart and I set up the gig through a series of phone messages, never hammering out details such as pay, ticket price and promotion. I was even uncertain that we had a gig until our mutual buddy, Bob Martin contacted Stewart at his cottage up north…yep, it’s a go. I felt different, more optimistic about this gig. It's an outdoor show that’ll let Stewart stretch out and allow his legion of fans to enjoy the sky and the crisp, fresh summer air – not too hot, just right – and I was determined to see and hear his entire show for the first time. I wondered quietly if I could truly hear Stewart THIS time. I’d read his press releases and rave reviews without ever appreciating those qualities that were praised. Could I even understand his message?

I awoke at about 5:30am the day of the show and was down at White’s at about 6:30am. This time I remembered to get some help with the small tents that would serve as a protective shield for the band and the crowd. We toted and hauled and toted some more… tables and chairs and sundry other accoutrements of a live outdoor show such as barriers and caution tape. I cleaned-up of the Tiki Bar and surrounding parking lot…those damn cigarette butts. I pulled weeds by hand, bought extra ice and soda pop and changed our marquee. Over six hours later I returned home to work out on my elliptical, take a swim and have a sandwich. Three hours after that I returned to White’s to make sure everything was proceeding smoothly. My friend Pops aka Pete Crawford and his crew from Wiseguys Smokehouse Grill was cookin’ up some tasty delights. Pops’ wife, Sharrie Williams, the queen of gospel blues, was busy touring Europe, where she enjoys massive popularity. We hope to bring her to White’s in the fall. Hyperman Productions was setting up the sound and they did a fine job balancing the vocal and instrumental mixes. The overall sound was crisp and a little hot. And the sonics were much better than any arena PA you’ve ever heard!

Stewart remembers the process of coming to terms with his own mortality,
“The prospect of death is no longer a cerebral notion but is an unavoidable part of daily life. And the world is sharply drawn into two distinct groups: Those who get it and those who don’t. We come and we go; the world is always changing. The next breath is a fucking blessing”.*

Stewart brought his big band – a 10 piece rockin’ soul juggernaut punctuated by the swingingest, most athletic horn section since Myron Floren left Lawrence Welk to branch out into free jazz and group sex. Stewart is the clear leader, the good-natured guru, with a powerful yet expressive voice. He can shout it out, croon, or reach for a sweet falsetto and laugh about it all. His music is more complex and layered than I imagined. The band is tight but loose, clearly enjoying themselves. Stewart’s songs, each one a mini-soul symphony, possess a nuanced narrative style that is poetic as well as lyrically sophisticated. This cat can tell a hell of a story that has a beginning and ends with a moral or a lesson learned, without being preachy, pissy or dogmatic. He set list spanned his career and many of the songs seem to use Saginaw as a reference point. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was absolutely stunning, a powerful reminder that rock can rock hard and still have meaning, especially for those lost (and found) souls in Saginaw Valley. House of Lights, is a poignant song that parallels childhood memories with today’s good fortune while watching children play. I was especially taken by Motor City Serenade, perhaps one of the most thoughtful songs about an American City ever written. It evokes images of a long ago Detroit, a time that was more optimistic but just as tough. God Bless Soupy Sales, John Sinclair and Gordie Howe! Stewart’s choice of cover songs revealed his influences and paid homage to the masters. Into the Mystic (Van Morrison), Let’s Stay Together (Al Green) – a gutsy rendition, for sure, and Little Sister (Elvis).

Stewart rocked with Prowling, a playful tour-de-force that he numbers as his second best sex song. But Skin to Skinwas even better, more sensually pleasing with a gradually rising stream of eroticism as the protagonist whispers…
“skin to skin is where we begin tonight, darling”
Whew
. Stewart’s spiritual questioning is wrapped around From Where Shall Comfort Come a quiet masterpiece about the injustices of life. American Twilights seems to capture the everyday essence of human pain and suffering. It seems to hold and reflect back our imperfect lives as we stumble through the mean streets of our towns and cities.

Stewart’s longing was at once very personal yet universal, “Happiness seems like a quality forever at our fingertips; yet we often take it for granted and find ourselves without it. How do we make the most of it when the lights are on?”*

As I sat back and listened to this unassuming rockin’ soul-poet, he took me to a happier place and I felt peace, even for just a moment, and I knew that I found something valuable and I wondered why it took me so long.

Peace
Bo White
July 27th, 2005

* excerpts from the recently released collection of essays, interviews, and lyrics by Stewart Francke - Between The Ground & God