Frances Chang Takes a Moral Inventory

been thinking bout confession is the third album by Brooklyn-based musician, composer, visual artist, and performer Frances Chang. This experimental indie pop exploration is textured with synths and playful electronics, with her unique strain of experimental songwriting dealing with themes of digital-physical duality and disrupting accepted reality.

Chang gained early exposure in the DIY punk, emo, and post-hardcore scenes, performing for several years as a member of the New York art-punk band Giant Peach with Mike Naideau (Blood Soda), a collaboration that grew out of their early and disparate solo bedroom projects.

Her interest in production and her solo experimental foray into spoken word and instrumental music began with internet releases under various pseudonyms before she released her 2022 debut album under her own name, support your local nihilist. Chang added a bassist and drummer for 2024’s Psychedelic Anxiety with Andréa Schiavelli (Eyes of Love) on bass and Liza Winter (Birthing Hips) on drums; they performed live as a three-piece.

been thinking bout confession was again co-produced with now longtime collaborator Schiavelli, who also provided additional bass, piano, drums, vocals, and access to a century-old baby grand piano, which is at the center of Chang’s sonic landscape. The album is decorated by a string quartet, with arrangements by Sammy Weissberg, who also played upright bass on the album. The voice-acted dialogue on “Marry” features Chang alongside Sylvia Gorelick. Andrès Abernante recorded additional piano at Jaybird Studio, and Winter and William Alexander played drums, while Carolyn Hietter and Jake Tobin contributed saxophone.

The album has both an old and modern feel. On the first listen, I thought it was almost ’60s jazz; with subsequent listens, I felt it has more of a cinematic vibe where Chang’s voice is the protagonist that you follow through these small vignettes on the album in some songs such as “Auratones of desire,” through the timing of strings and drums on “Bad zen.” The tempo then shifts on songs such as “I can feel the waves” and “Is affect real?” which have a Chet Baker vibe. Dionne Warwick and Burt Bacharach are also cited as influences.

Usually, for The Tonearm, I cover indie rock, indie folk, shoegaze, post-rock—all guitar-driven music genres. I caught up with Frances on a video call and explained how this piano/synth-centered album isn’t normally my thing, but I find myself drawn to it.

Damien Joyce: You had a song a couple of years ago called “i quit cigs,” and I’m hoping you’re still off them?

Frances Chang: I am! Yes, I was very resolute about it this time.

Damien: Good for you, and keep it going!

Frances: It’s interesting that you are mostly into guitar music because, if you have heard some of the previous records, my main instrument is guitar.

Damien: Yes, and this album is very different from those records.

Frances: Usually, my process has been more whatever comes out and not very premeditated. But with this one, I was hitting walls with the guitar. So, I sat down at the piano in my co-producer’s studio; he has a baby grand that is his childhood piano. It was the first time that I had touched an acoustic piano for so long. I started to feel like maybe I’d write an album on piano because I could feel fresh energy in that direction.

I wouldn’t say it was premeditated, but I did gather inspiration more deliberately than I ever had before. In a way, I feel like this album is a kind of aesthetic expression of influences in a way that I don’t really think I ever thought too much about.

Damien: Is there a tactile element to the piano that’s different from when you start writing melodies on the guitar?

Frances: Yes, I think so. I mean, it’s like a percussion instrument; the sound is so full. It resulted in more abstract music in a way. Also, I’m not so experienced with it; I don’t really know how to play it.

Damien: You’re actually self-taught on a lot of your music, aren’t you?

Frances: Yes, I am. But with guitar, at least, I’ve been playing for years. I do feel like my two most recent albums were really chordal. With this one, the piano ended up being an instrument that was both sound and musical.

Damien: When you’re creating, moving from your guitar-driven music to the piano and the additional arrangements, and you’ve got your work completed, is it only then you’re thinking about performing this new music live and wondering how am I going to recreate this live? Does that come into your mind at all, or is it more like, “Okay, that’s done?”

Frances: That’s something that has been an annoyance to have to consider: how I’m going to do these things live because I think when I’m making stuff, I like to get immersed in creating a world that doesn’t really have any physical bounds. So I allowed myself to suspend that while I was making this; the more I think about guitar music, it’s always in the back of my head, even though I want to forget about it.

My previous work has just been a little more realistic. Although I guess not really, but a little bit. So, when I was invited to tour with Cate Le Bon at the beginning of the year, I was like, “Fuck!” I hadn’t figured out how to play them live.

In a way, I wasn’t even sure if they were real songs without the production. I just couldn’t separate them. It’s been a long process figuring out how to play them live, but it’s nice because sometimes things get old.

Damien: Right, I guess that’s another creative challenge for you to recreate them?

Frances: Oh, yes. Especially with these, I do think it was challenging because I’m not about to assemble an eight-person band!

Damien: Did you still have the same trio of Andréa Schiavelli (Eyes of Love), Liza Winter, and you?

Frances: No. So for the Cate Le Bon tour, I played solo. I used backing tracks and played piano. It was the first time I had ever done anything like that, and it was cool. I come from a punk background, so I’m not super comfortable with the idea of tracks or doing a karaoke-style set. I don’t know if it’s because I come from a punk background, or if it’s because I have a raw taste. I actually really like it when things sound kind of stark and awkward. For this upcoming tour, I’m playing as a duo: just keyboard and bass. I decided to fall into the emptiness of whether these are sounds or not.

Damien: Is that the upcoming tour with Bill Callahan?

Frances: Yes.

Damien: Such a legendary voice over the years too; that should be fun to tour with someone like him.

Frances: I hope so. Also, speaking of starkness, I feel like he’s the ultimate bare-bones!

Damien: Right, and just to go back to that point as well about playing solo, how did that feel being on stage on your own?

Frances: Oh, I enjoy that, to be honest. I like being on stage alone because I don’t exactly know what it is. I think sometimes it’s a pacing thing, other people’s timing. If you notice, my music tempo is often elastic, or you can’t even really figure it out; it’s not always to a click. Even though I was playing to tracks and that was confining, I like being on stage alone.

Damien: That’s interesting. Coming from the punk/emo type origins, do these stop/start tempos, unexpected arrangements on the album continue from your solo bedroom project with Giant Peach?

Frances: Maybe. I feel like it’s more of a musical theater influence or something like that. Like going back to your first question, when I was thinking about materials to gather for the inspiration and being deliberate about it with the piano, I was really going back to a very primal root of my origins and thinking about what I listened to when I was young because I was trying to get over a creative block. The solution I found was to ask, “Where am I not accepting myself along the line? What is my sort of primal self or relationship to music?”

I feel like my songs are proggy. Something that springs to mind quickly is Sondheim, certain kinds of musical theater where it’s more of a narrative. I guess that can happen across a lot of different kinds of music.

Damien: Your work covers many fields, as a musician, visual artist, film composer, performer. But with film composition, how do you find contributing scores to someone else’s work? Is that a challenge for you, or do you enjoy it because you have to interpret other people’s work?

Frances: Honestly, it’s so much less difficult than making an album alone. I find scoring for film intuitive. So far, I’ve worked well with directors, and when they make edits, I feel like I understand. I’m a big fan of films. There’s something about the language of film that really speaks to me; it helps my creativity flow so much more easily when there’s something else to bounce off of. Usually, I just bang them out!

Damien: But you’re also a visual storyteller through your videos. Do you enjoy creating that too?

Frances: I do enjoy it. I think music has a visual aspect, but not like a painting. When I’m making something, I have a clear vision of what should be there. I’m not so invested in making visual things that are only visual. It’s not as much my interest for some, but film; I guess I like time-based media or things that feel more immersive and include sound.

Damien: To dig into a little bit more about some of your songs, I know you’re based in New York now, but you were born in Chicago to immigrant parents. The song “Is affect real?” talks about what it means to live in America right now. I know it’s a difficult topic to talk about in the current climate, but are you optimistic about the future?

Frances: I’m not optimistic about the future in terms of the planet. That song is about an experience that felt more real when I was younger, honestly, and it kind of closes the loop on what I felt like when I was young and just first born into America. I wanted to be blonde, and I wanted to be the protagonist, and that was the image in my head. Eventually I rebelled against that, swung in the other direction, and built all these ego defenses against it. But there was something about closing the loop of recognizing what that desire is and where it comes from. It affected me a lot more strongly, having been born when I was. I think I’m maybe more optimistic about some elements of culture than about tech. At the same time, I am hopeful there will be a natural reaction against it.

Damien: Another theme on your record throughout is digital versus analog, which comes up a lot for you. Is that something you always grapple with?

Frances: Yes, that is maybe a slight internal conflict or something. It’s reality versus things that are imaginary or, on the flip side, artificial. Is it real? Is it substantial, or is it just a sound you made on your computer that cost you nothing? And it’s not a clear answer for me. I actually like making stuff on the computer, and obviously, there’s a whole world of electronic music. But I guess it’s a conversation inside myself, and with the whole AI conversation, it takes on a little more weight.

On the song “That night,” where the synth sounds like strings, but it’s a synth, and then it fades into real strings—I thought it would be interesting to line it up like that and see how it would feel, because I actually love the sound of that synth. But I feel like there’s nothing like a real instrument, and I may fall on that side of the spectrum at the end of the day, even though I’m interested in electronic sounds and find them beautiful too.

Damien: Well, there’s no right or wrong answer to that; it’s how each artist interprets it. I guess that’s something to process throughout your career. When Brian Eno started producing his solo work in the mid-seventies, people thought music would change a lot. And it did, but it changed in all different directions. Just because the synthesizer was introduced didn’t mean it was the end of all these other genres; it just created more genres.

Frances: Totally, I mean, something I was thinking about with piano is, it’s not just about what you’re playing. There’s such a feel to it, the way that people touch it. It is so distinct, and that must be true with any tactile instrument. But for some reason, with the piano, it feels like your touch is extra amplified inside the instrument. So that’s something really nice that can be transmitted into a real instrument. I could also be open to exploring the idea that electronic instruments transmit touch as well.

Damien: Just to go back to your album again with the title, been thinking bout confession, was that the beginning of your introspection journey? Was it the anchor for the album?

Frances: That’s been another thing kicking around in my head for a long time; I think longer than the album. I don’t remember when I decided to name the album that, and I don’t know why that phrase stuck with me. I’m not Catholic; I was raised agnostic, but I’ve been thinking about Catholicism, and I like going to Catholic churches.

I was thinking about what that tradition or ritual of confession could be. I don’t really know what it is, but I was like, “Oh, that actually is a really valuable moment of taking a moral inventory of yourself.” I think I was feeling backed up in that way for a long time, just not feeling totally straight with myself and whether I’m acting according to my values or something. I’m preoccupied with ethics.

Damien: I was curious, was it the theater of the confession act, as well as being inside a historic Catholic church, the act of going in through this door and coming out unburdened that was part of the fascination?

Frances: I don’t know if I was as interested in the magical disappearing of it as much as, like, at a psychological level, I felt like I understood the value of what could be magical about it. But on a separate note, because I was having so much trouble in my life, it felt like the setting for that ritual would be great to have in your life. The pomp and circumstance of Catholicism is awesome.

Damien: There’s definitely pomp!

Frances: But it’s interesting that you might as well have that in your way of dealing with the divine; I would like it to be spectacular.

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