Ann Francon
Québécoise dark rock. Furnace hymns.
The Wreckage and the Parking Lot
Ann Francon was the heat in Maudite Grâce, the Montréal band that ran on entanglement until it broke "like a windshield — all at once and in every direction." She stood in a rehearsal-space parking lot holding the key to a room that no longer existed, and didn't write a song about it for seven years. When she started again it was after her son's bedtime, in a Dollarama notebook, in English — the language of rock and roll, she says, where French is the language of meaning it. No more bands: session players now, people who show up prepared and leave without sleeping with each other. She chose the name herself, and she won't tell you the one she was born with.
"I test what I love to see if it holds. The name is a warning. Most people don't read warnings."
"Everything I've made has cost me. Everything I destroyed was mine to destroy. I don't do refunds."
Discography
Play the discography — or tap a cassette for that track.