Pop Sequentialism | The Joker’s Troubadour

09 Oct The Joker’s Troubadour

Posted at 00:08h in News by Pop Sequentialism 0 Comments

Great films frequently utilize music to establish their mood. The selection of a too-obvious track can ruin a well crafted performance and an otherwise technically perfectly composed scene can be made silly or ham-fisted. In post-Tarantino Hollywood, deep tracks are a sort of currency that allows gifted music supervisors to shine. Quentin’s movies are full of them. But the best use of an obscure track this year, is My Name Is Carnival by a mostly forgotten singer/song-writer by the name of Jackson C. Frank in Todd Phillips’ blockbuster DC Universe film, Joker.

By the time his one and only album was released in 1965, he enjoyed a greater reputation on the folk scene than either Paul Simon or Al Stewart –both of whom play occasional 2nd guitar on Frank’s Blues Run the Game. And while a Tim Buckley, Phil Ochs or Nick Drake song might have done the trick of telegraphing some low-key tragedy as background to the Joker’s origin story, Jackson Frank’s damaged existence could very well have served as the template for Joaquin Phoenix’ interpretation of Arthur Fleck.

Jackson learned to play music after being gifted an acoustic guitar by a kindly teacher after both survived a freak furnace explosion that consumed his schoolhouse, killed most of his classmates and burned over 50% of Frank’s body. A $100K settlement from the fire allowed the young Jackson to travel to England, where he met and recorded with the aforementioned Simon and Stewart, but despite the praise of critics and peers, the album didn’t sell.

He returned nearly penniless to New York, where he married a former model, and had two children, one of whom died of cystic fibrosis, which ended the marriage and drove Frank into a hospitalized depression. He managed to return to England once, touring with Fairport Convention and recording a session with John Peel, but his health, both corporeal and mental was on the decline as he struggled with obesity, alcoholism, and paranoia.

He confided in those around him that he was hearing voices and his behavior became increasingly erratic to the point that he wound up living on the streets. Some cruel adolescents took several pot-shots at the bedraggled Frank with a BB gun, one of which blinded him in his left eye. He managed to eke out a living into the 1990s and even played a few shows and wrote more material. The entirety of Frank’s output has been gathered in a box set, Jackson C. Frank: The Complete Recordings, which seems poised to make a posthumous comeback in the wake of his inclusion in the Joker movie.