So far in his career, Francis Farewell Starlite’s impressive production credits and stable of collaborators have somewhat eclipsed his output as a solo pop star. The artists he works with as Francis and the Lights—be it Chance the Rapper, Drake, or Frank Ocean—all have songs that have benefited from his ghostly electro-soul and propensity for wispy, space-age synthesizers. Even his two biggest hits from 2016’s uneven-but-promising second album Farewell, Starlite!, the low-boil R&B jam “Friends” and the Afro-pop jam “May I Have This Dance?,” enjoyed heightened visibility by featuring Kanye West and Chance, respectively. Some musicians thrive in a collaborative setting, but while he’s chock full of good ideas, it can feel as if Starlite’s best efforts are behind the mixing desk rather than in front of the mic.
What’s refreshing about Francis and the Lights’ surprise third album, Just for Us, is that it sheds so much of what Starlite has made his calling card—the big features, the glossy posturing that borderlines on trying too hard—and instead comes closer to the essence of what makes him a genuinely talented songwriter. Dropped without fanfare on the last Friday of 2017, Just for Us’ stark simplicity might give the impression that it was released almost as an afterthought, a little holiday treat for hardcore Francis fans. But in reality, this is the most honest that Starlite has even been, and the brief collection of 10 tracks speaks ably to what he can achieve as a solo artist.
Previously, the bleating heartache Starlite portrayed on some of his more balladeering tracks was consciously performative, as he tried on the role of the lovelorn pop singer. Here, on a track like “Faithful,” his doubt in romance is painful and palpable. Over a simple, bare piano melody, Starlite sings: “If there was no god and nothing to do/I could be faithful to you.” Clocking in at two-and-a-half minutes, the message is straightforward and inescapable: Caught between love and desire, he just doesn’t know if he has what it takes. It’s a gut-punch, certainly some of his most affecting songwriting thus far.
Organic synth-pop might seem like an oxymoron, but that’s what Starlite goes for—mixing somber pianos and his trusty electronic production, Just for Us’ general sound sways gracefully between understated vulnerability and giddy emotion. Compared to tracks like “Faithful” and the album’s opener “Morning” (the melody of which, it must be said, sounds not unlike the theme from “Cheers”), the title track “Just for Us” is basically a stomper, even if it maintains the album’s icy pace. Its driving snares and bubbling keyboards are complemented by frequent Francis collaborator Bon Iver’s falsetto on the chorus, carrying the song above the Prince-lite style of Starlite’s funky talk-sing.
Speaking of ’80s influences, it’s hard to speak of Starlite’s singing without referencing Peter Gabriel’s wild tenor and staccato phrasing, but on “Tear It Up” the resemblance is downright uncanny, if not a conscious homage. It works as song, but is so on the nose it’s distracting. His major problem here is editing—for the most part, the songs are short, but the album could essentially be boiled down to a really solid EP instead of a bunch of interesting tracks that get obscured by what could be considered sketches or studies, like “I Won’t Lie to You,” which, in less than two minutes, doesn’t really do or say much. On the other hand, after years of injecting his songs with a more-is-more ethos at just about every level, Just for Us is a welcome window into Francis and the Lights’ soul, without smoke, without mirrors, just a man and his keyboard.
