Words by Chaz John Ross
Photo cred: Bawanabee Hummingbird @Bawanabee
Like many a great thing, it happened by chance. The first time that I stumbled upon Frances and the Majesties, in late-August 2019, I’d been booked by the owners of a relatively hidden but well-known Camden pub to DJ at its birthday celebration. The 150-year-old pub in question, The Rose & Crown, has a rich history of hosting and hot-bedding the often messy social exploits of some of the greatest British musical artists of our generation, most notably Amy Winehouse and The Libertines.
As I entered the pub for my soundcheck, a strange noise was emanating from the basement. Entering the candlelit cellar I noticed, sat upon a large, green leather chesterfield, a somewhat shy but impeccably dressed young woman tuning her saxophone. She was softly spoken and chatting to her girlfriends in a Latin tongue. I didn’t speak to her; I thought she might not understand English or even be of able body given that she played her instrument sitting down.
As with many smaller London pubs and music venues, The Rose & Crown, formerly The Torriano, has had to deal with the threat of property developers and over-zealous complaining neighbours. In such idyllic neighbourhood surroundings, the chances of seeing a great live band in a space this size (70-person capacity) would be considered negligible (the venue generally caters for the local stand-up comedy circuit and other functions).
As London's underground live-music scene withers under such threats, it's not uncommon for an unsigned artist to have to supply their own sound engineer or, in rarer circumstances, to engineer the sound themselves – a difficult skill to master, especially while holding an instrument. Neither are there any rules, regulations or official certification governing how proficient a sound engineer or a PA system needs to be.
Lo and behold, this evening I found myself being roped into (due to a mixture of curiosity, generosity and pity) sound-engineer duties. I’m not great at it and I had no idea of what kind of music Frances and the Majesties made. I was surprised by how many bandmates joined Frances onstage, including a tambourine/maraca player. I assumed that these extra people were friends of the band – until they picked up their instruments. It was a proficient and professional performance considering the fact that it was their debut. They played only three songs, acoustically, but displayed a decent amount of musical information, largely thanks to the idiosyncrasies of the tambourine player (a nod to The Brian Jonestown...), a tin whistle and a saxophone jam during the final song. Somehow, despite my limited technical skills, I prevented the microphones from feeding back. Frances’ voice sounded magical and angelic throughout, the band was on point and the crowd, who almost filled the house, were in awe.
From that moment on I decided to help the band. Not out of charity but because I enjoyed their music. I wouldn’t call myself a purveyor of new talent though I have had a few experiences in discovering and nurturing fledging artists. This was mainly because I used to run my own night, Club Cool, in order to self-promote my band, The Coolness. I was always on the lookout for new and interesting support acts. Club Cool was a successful bi-monthly club night that lasted for many years and introduced to the world to bands such as The Fat White Family (then called The Saudis).
A handful of times over the past decade I’ve had the pleasure of advising an artist who has it all: the songwriting, the originality, the stylish look and the hunger to listen and to learn. One such person, who I met in 2008 when she was just the tender age of 15, was Charli XCX, now a critically and commercially acclaimed chart act. Frances and the Majesties share the same hunger, aesthetic, awareness and songwriting capability of a young Charlie. I pray that the music industry embraces them as it did her.
Frances and the Majesties are largely made up of international members and all seven of them live together on the outskirts of the city, beyond the last stop on the Northern Line, in a series of warehouses now occupied by artists but whose original purpose were as large factories housing dentistry equipment, including the first-ever rising dentist’s chair. With large Victorian windows, the buildings now house a series of artistic, photographic and music studios – as well as Frances and the Majesties.
Living so far away from the centre of London has its benefits: rent is cheaper and there are less distractions in working and existing in an affordable area. There’s enough free space to store vintage musical equipment (Italian-made organs from the Seventies aren't small!), play intimate gigs and shoot music videos. The band told me that the best thing about living together is the strong sense of friendship it creates. This could be the reason that their music sounds so familiar, being akin to the great psychedelic pop-rock acts of the Sixties.
London’s cultural focus is slowly turning away from the arts and craftsmanship towards technology and celebrities. But in 2020, among a burgeoning warehouse community in the outermost suburbs, a rare set of circumstances have produced London’s next great band: Frances and the Majesties. Like many a great thing, it happened by chance.
