FRENSHIP’s set is simultaneously passionate and playful, subdued and rousing, and above all, undeniably fun. A sweeping instrumental introduction plunges the audience into FRENSHIP’s immersive sound. The transition into the first song is seamless, with surging beats melting into the rhythm of “Carpet”-a testament to the thought and detail constantly applied to show’s production. Each song shimmers with vibrant melodies and thumping rhythms, but the show truly comes to life thanks to its performers. James and Brett command the stage with a distinct charm and humility. James brings his banana maraca on stage for every show, while Brett’s completely uninhibited dancing is infectiously fun to witness.
As I learn to see over the next few days, each member of the group brings their personality onstage with them. James’s concentration and playfulness; Celeste’s stirring electricity during Capsize; JR losing himself in his hyper-focused drumming; Danny’s unbridled enthusiasm during guitar solos; the famous ‘Brett face,’ which he displays exclusively during dance breaks. The collective result is a show that engulfs the room. Regardless of whether the audience has loved FRENSHIP for two years or two minutes, by the time James and Brett are spinning and jumping around the stage during tropical pop song “Knives”, the entire audience cannot help but buy into such a contagious performance.
The synergy of performing is almost immediately replaced with the organized chaos of load-out. The band disassembles their equipment with practiced ease; James unplugs his keyboard and rolls the cord while chatting with the audience at the barricade. Cases scrape across the wooden floor and loud thumps echo through backstage as large amps and equipment stands are haphazardly gathered outside the stage door. Within the hectic jumble are snippets of playful banter among FRENSHIP, including someone saying “I will drop trou,” another yelling “scramble the jets!” and a deadpan observation of “we’d be a really sexy band if we weren’t all so out of shape” said between wheezes of hauling an amp into the van.
Nearly an hour later, we’re lounging in The NorVa’s common area; James and Celeste laughing over their terrible pool skills, Brett fiddling with a jukebox, Danny yelling animatedly at the neon flashes of the pinball machine, and JR sunk into the leather couch, observing the scene with the stoic, philosophical gaze I will become so familiar with over the following week. “These guys are some of the hardest working people. They challenge me. That doesn’t happen a lot. These guys keep me moving.” Tony Sainte, FRENSHIP’s tour manager tells me, sipping from a plastic cup of wine as he looks on at his band, scattered around the large room. As I steal a glance at the band, I save the snapshot in my mind, a moment capturing perfectly the synergy upon which FRENSHIP thrives. And as I sit on that sunken leather footrest, absentmindedly chatting about the best settings for a mixing board, I know exactly what Tony means. These guys, Brett and James and Celeste and Danny and JR, work the hardest because they exhibit so fully in their music what so naturally bursts out of them: a blazing authenticity that demands an audience.
The next stop on tour finds FRENSHIP in Albany, New York. At today’s soundcheck, I see firsthand the intensity Brett and James bring to ensuring their performance is up to standard. Amidst the calm murmur of soundcheck-the pluck of guitar strings, sharp clicks of electrical switches, the quick hiss of cymbals being struck-the atmosphere suddenly tenses. One of the main mixing laptops used during the performance appears to be dead. Tony starts to call nearby music supply stores, searching for a part to replace what he believes might be malfunctioning. The venue’s sound staff works to fix the issue while FRENSHIP continues with sound check. Though the problem is out of their hands, Brett and James shoot frequent furtive glances to the soundboard as they play “Kids”, visibly tense at the uncertainty. The problem is ultimately resolved and will be without consequence during the night’s show, its immediate and obvious effect on the band served as a clear testament to the level of personal responsibility they place on themselves to provide the best possible performance.
