Maybe I’m a bit crazy for writing up mini-reviews on albums that have been available for several years, or even a couple of decades…but some of them are enduring cornerstones of my collection, and what I feel are high points of an artist’s repertoire. The subject today is no exception to that rule: Michael Franks’ album Passionfruit is, in my opinion, one of his finest works. While the production might sound slightly dated, the sound of the album overall is very cohesive and easy to get into. It’s not as dated sounding as Skin Dive or, more so, The Camera Never Lies. But between this album, Sleeping Gypsy, Dragonfly Summer and Blue Pacific, this is the one I listen to the most.

What really captivates me on this album is the songwriting: the whole album evokes dreamy passion and strong images on various levels. “Alone At Night” is all about “fasting on a love-free diet, suffering on an overdose of peace and quiet”, watching TV alone in an electrode light. “Amazon” is steamy in both a tropical and sensual sort of way, understated quite well.

“Rainy Night In Tokyo” and “Tell Me All About It” are, to me, the centerpieces of the album: the former is a dreamy recounting of a meeting with a lover in Japan…”…in love on a rainy night, and due for a little celebration.” The latter is sensual (as in, “of the senses”): “Love…when we touch I shiver…”. It connects on a deep level. “Sunday Morning Here With You” is yet another highlight:

Lounging in bed Sunday papers read
Windows open
First day of spring hear the kettle sing
Tea for two
Lady in lace sunlight on your face
Quite an eyeful
Such delightful deja vu
Sunday morning here with you

As a bit of comedy relief, we get the album’s only real double-entendre song: “Now That Your Joystick’s Broke”, which puts a video game spin on the “machine” being out of order; on this album, it is almost out of place. An additional relief track is “When Sly Calls”, a tale of a phone call from a good friend that you enjoy yet, simultaneously, dread talking to. (Been there, done that!)

On other albums prior to this one, the double-entendres were pretty thick: there’s no mistaking the alternate meanings in songs like “Baseball” and “When The Cookie Jar Is Empty”. Aside from “Joystick”, this albums is more like one continuous sensual high point, and makes no attempt to clobber you over the head with overt sexuality. If I’d had this album in high school, it probably would have made a great “make out” album. The music and lyrics on this album work subtly and, for that reason, I feel it is one of Franks’ finest albums. As is the case with his best lyrics, all of the songs are highly visual, and they’re poetic enough to hold up to numerous repeat listenings like a favorite book of written poetry.  Highly recommended!