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FRANCIS’ DEBUT ALBUM ‘WASHUP’ GETS DELUX RELEASE

It’s been only eleven months since the release of the new folk-pop singer’s debut album. Francis Mancini, better known by just ‘Francis’ has been taking TikTok by storm with her raw and intimate music. Fans have been begging for a deluxe version. Finally, Empiric Records gave in and have released the special addition to include four extra songs, two covers, and two new singles released within the past few months (one of them being with Sawyer, which had the internet gagging).

This month, at Woodstock Magazine, we got to sit down with the new folk sensation, and talk to her about her iconic record.

Read the interview below, and check out the album HERE.

JONES: I’m going to be honest Francis, I didn’t expect your deluxe version to include covers, what made decide to include the two iconic songs?

FRANCIS: Honestly, I think the songs on my album were really tough to write. Like, they’re really personal, they took a lot out of me. At the time the album took off, and there were talks for a potential deluxe, I couldn’t really imagine putting myself in that headspace. It has to come naturally. So really, if the big guys wanted a deluxe, it was going to have to be covers.

JONES: But you did include a couple originals, though they’re singles people are already familiar with. And they stack up against the rest of the album in terms of intensity. What was the choice with that?

FRANCIS: Well, they’re still released pretty close to this album, and in terms of era and theme, they still seemed to fit quite well. Hopefully, my next album doesn’t have to be a drugs, loneliness, and losing a love. I hope I’m somewhere else by the time I start on the next thing.

JONES: I wanted to ask about that. This album is known for how hard it hits, and you’re not shy about what this album is based off of in your personal life. How has it felt sharing that with the world?

FRANCIS: It’s a part of the healing, honestly. I’ve been so grateful to be able to share my life through music and that the music reaches so many people. I mean, the process of making this album was brutal. I was at some pretty low moments, but the craft of it, I knew, would be so important for me. Now that it’s out there and I meet the people it connects to, I know that taking this leap of openness was worth it.

JONES: Can you tell me about the title ‘WASHUP’, what was the message you wanted people to take from it?

FRANCIS: It’s two-fold, honestly. I mean, there’s the sense of being a washup in the sense that I was a failed playwright, drug addict, dumped two months before my wedding, and in a city where I had few friends. I was washed up. But it’s also this idea of washing onto shore of a new space, I will wash up onto the sand and I will be reborn. This is me moving on.

JONES: That’s really beautiful. Now I have to ask, you did a song with Sawyer, the ex-band member of the super succession rock band Riot Band. None of us saw that coming, but the song is genius. What was that like being in the studio with such a talent?

FRANCIS: I mean, totally honest, I wasn’t really a fan of Riot Van when they were in their hay day. And I think it’s important to clarify he reached out to me. I didn’t even know he sang until he showed up to the studio and we started working together.

JONES: I would have loved to been a fly on the wall in that studio. What was that process like?

FRANCIS: It was totally wild. I mean he’s such a professional, it was like the moment he stepped in, it was all about the music. I had had a verse of something written, and he’d had some lyrical ideas as well, it was just uncanny that they happened to fit together so well. They when we kind of figured out the groove, it was like we shared the same mind. I had began playing on the piano and he began to play his guitar and then next thing I knew we were recording and I was crying and we were done.

JONES: You cried?

FRANCIS: A little, yeah. I mean, when we sang, the energy--- I mean, it’s like--- really, I can’t explain it, I was just overcome. 

JONES: Sounds like you two have something special. Do you think you’ll work together again?

FRANCIS: I mean he’s busy making his album, I don’t think that’s going to be in our futures anytime soon.

JONES: I think people are disappointed to hear that, but I understand. Thank you for taking the time to talk to Woodstock, Francis. I’ll be playing this Deluxe album on repeat for weeks. 

FRANCIS: Thank you, my mom said the same thing.

#v. unless you mean it #c. francis mancini

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𝙥𝙘𝙨𝙩𝙫𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨  –––––  i’m in the business of losing your interest

a sideblog for 1x1 materials such a graphics, ask memes, and other content. this is NOT a roleplay blog. 

follows from @capricxs​

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👔  :    your  muse  notices  that  my  muse’s  shirt  is  open   &   goes  to  ‘  fix  it  ’ -- wren & monroe.

He hadn’t actually slept the night before the team was meant to do intel and prep for their mission. He had been up all night, trying to make sure everything was perfect, trying to make sure everyone would be set up for success. So much was riding on their first heist since everything happened. He knew no one asked for him to end up inn this position, he wasn’t their favorite person, but he wasn’t going to let them down. He wasn’t going to lose any of them like he had Loren.

When he came downstairs, finding everyone finishing up their breakfast, they had all looked strangely at him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long as to why, ace Ace spoke immediately and told him he looked like shit. He thanks her tiredly and went to grab an apple, taking a bite. There was no time to wait. Everyone was moving to leave. He gave his final notes to brief, and then just like that, everyone was departing to do their share.

He’d gone to grab his shoes when Monroe had met him in the empty hall. He’d asked her if she had any questions, but instead, she just reached up, taking hold of his shirt, and working the buttons.

“You’ll look more professional this way.” Her tone was flat, but Wren wasn’t thinking of that. All he could think of was how her shampoo smelled lovely, and she was so close, and he wanted to keep here there.

One hand still held his shoes, but his other reached up, taking hold of her wrist to keep her hands present on his form. “Today’s going to go okay.” He didn’t know if he was saying this to reassure her, or himself.

“I know.” Her hands pressed flat onto his chest. She’d never been this close before. Not for a long, long time. Not since before she was married. But they silently agreed, he thought, not to be that close again. But he wanted her to stay like this. To keep her tender hands on him. “And then you need to sleep.”

“I’ll be okay.” He tries to brush her off, needing to create distance before he did something unwise. But she keeps her hands on him, grabbing hold of his shirt and keeping him in place.

“We can’t thrive unless you’re at your best. That includes rest.” Her eyes are so striking, boring into him like she could peer through each of his layers. He knew she had a point. From anyone else, he would have continued to ignore it. But from her, he’d listen to anything.

His hand placed over her arm, giving a tender squeeze. He thought of kissing her, of saying he couldn’t do this without her. But this was not the time, nor the place. So he simply told her thank you, and in his attempt to create more distance this time, he succeeded, brushing past Monroe to put on his shoes. 

He wanted nothing more than to indulge in her, but things were too fragile now. He couldn’t allow for weakness, not when he could wind up losing her, too.

#s. monroe & wren. #v. les fantomes.

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💍  :    our  muses  are  mistaken  for  a  couple  by  someone  else -- ace & des

They weren’t even working. Perhaps it would have been better to have it happen if they were on the job. But rathr, Ace had told Des he needed to step away from the computer and interact with the outside world. Which is what brought them to the market. With her long and glamorous coat and his on that had looked far too old.

She told him they should buy a new one for him, he kept declining, until they found a cart with her favorite pastries, and bought her one instead. She wasn’t sure if it had been purely coincidence, or it he remembered that the french delight was her weakness. 

They sat on a bench, watching as people walked by, their knees touching as they giggled over their snack. She brushed off crumbs from his thighs and he told her that her lipstick smudged. He kept pointing on his own face where it was, and Ace kept reaching to brush it off, but missing it. Perhaps she just liked it when he stared at her lips.

She had finally given up, leaning forward and telling him to get it. His cheeks had gone red, and before he could decide to listen or not, an older woman had stepped forward. 

She had said something about having seen them by the coat vendor, bickering about coats, and saw them here now. She shared that Ace and Des has reminded her of her and her late husband, and it brought her joy to see such a genuine couple in these days.

The woman hadn’t stayed long. The two of them giving her mumbled thanks, both of their cheeks cherry red when she finally stepped away. Both of them stared below at their laps. Ace had to bring her hand to her hips to hide the smile that was forcing it’s way over her lips. Even when she had been in a relationship, she’d never had someone step forward and say something so... sweet.

She kept sneaking glances at Des, who was looking down at his pastry, still very red. She hadn’t seen that when she looked away, Des was doing the same to her. 

They hadn’t said anything for a while. Rather than speak, Ace had just reached out, giving his leg a tender squeeze. Sometime after that, when her treat was finished, she stood, looking down at Desmond, and saying, “Would my very sweet boyfriend like to go home now?”

He blushed incredibly then, staring wide at her. Clearing his throat, he nodded and stood with her. Her hands grabbed his arm, standing close with him. As they began to walk back, she said in passing. “I’ll buy you a new coat one day. Whether you like it or not.”

#s. ace & des. #v. les fantomes.

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‘things you said when you thought i was asleep’ + monroe and wren

It was unfortunate that the only times he could talk to his sons were at ungodly hours. But he didn’t like going too long without talking to them, and the time differences made it hard. Had to be when they got home from school, before dinner. He played by his ex wife’s rules. Criminals can’t be choosers, Wren, she had said some time before.

So he paced around where they were all staying, hard to keep his voice down but it was a bit too cold out to go for a walk and talk. He asked the boys how they were doing, they were fine. They asked how he was doing, he was fine. He wished he could be back, in just that one moments. Go to a soccer game, or attend a play. They seemed happy, though. They seemed good.

His ex then came on the phone, and he held his breath, waiting for what she could say. But she came back with a question he didn’t expect.

“She still around?” It caught him off guard. Sometimes he didn’t think she remembered Monroe. But then, of course she did. Mysterious letters from her had him in his office for hours and she’d linger in the doorway, asking if he was okay. The few times he spoke on the phone with Monroe, his wife would be in bed, wondering why he didn’t sound like that on the phone with her.

It was painful, both of them knowing he was in love with someone else. He really tried not to be.

He told here yes. She was, in fact, sleeping on the couch in front of him, knocked out from her day with Lennon, doing whatever they did to prep for their work. So he just stood, the light from the kitchen poor behind him and onto her sleeping form. “Yes,” He breaths.

“Didn’t leave for good this time?” He’d told her when Monroe left the last time. Who else was going to understand? Perhaps that was fucked up for him, but she’d said she’d forgiven him a long time ago.

“No, she’s still here. She’s stronger now, you know.” He says, though it’s half to convince himself.

“Sure she is.” His ex-wife pans, not fully interested. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, Wren.”

He tugs a fistful of his curls, and sighs. “I believe in her. I really do.”

She hadn’t stayed much longer after that. Something crashed in the background and just like that, he was shut off from that life again. Standing alone in the middle of the night with the life that he left that for. For a stranded moment, he wonders if it really was the right call.

#v. les fantomes. #s. monroe & wren.

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🎐 + ace and des

🎐  :    our  muses  slow  dance  together .

She stated all night that her dress was new. She bought it at a little boutique nearby and she couldn’t wait to wear it. The team wasn’t even doing anything that day, which was tragic, so she found herself some random date on some random app and she put on her new dress and she went out.

It was just too bad that the date was an utter disaster and she had to leave before her beautiful dress could even get taken off. Because men were boring and predictable and disappointing, as always.

Pretty much everyone was asleep when she got back, tired, disappointed, sexually deprived. She slid out of her heels and dropped her clutch on the table of the villa they were staying in. When she came into the living room, it hadn’t surprised her to see a glowing head sticking up from the top of a monitor setup.

“Shouldn’t you sleep, Mon Coeur?” There was no surprise in her voice, even as an observation, she knew it was pointless.

Ace was reaching to take off her earrings, watching Des look up from his screen. He was dark, only the light from the kitchen pouring in, but he still looked over her, and she saw him swallow. 

He ignored her question. “How was your date?” His voice cracked and raspy. Probably hadn’t spoke to anyone in hours.

“He wouldn’t shut up about real-estate and he asked me to dance which I thought was cute but he kept grabbing my ass.” She rolls her eyes. “And he was married.”

He apologizes, she says it was a waste of a good dress. He tells her, in his trademark awkward way, that she looks really nice. She blushes, brushing her hair back and thanking him.

She can’t remember who suggests it. She whined about when they slow danced together, and how nice that was, and he says something about doing that again. The next thing she knows, he’s playing something from one of his computers and she’s got her arms around him, and he, her. He’s firm yet soft, holding her waist as if she’ll break. No one ever really held her like that before. She was used to confidence, and boldness. He never ventured south, even if maybe there was stirring in the pit of her stomach from her expectations being taken from her.

Her hand rests on his arm, holding tightly where he feels most robust. She says thank you. It’s quiet. Perhaps he didn’t hear it at first, because Ace rarely ever speaks quietly. But his thumb grazes her waist. A part where her dress cuts out and he’s touches her skin. She doesn’t notice but she purrs in his ear, the small bit of tension she held in herself releasing. 

He tells her again that he’s sorry, but he’s not referring to her date. He apologizes for not saying anything before she left. He’s sorry for not telling her how lovely she looked when she stepped out beforehand. It wasn’t the kind of dress to ignore. 

His thumb brushes her waist again, the tenderness of her words reverberating in her chest, and the stirring in her stomach creating a kind of warmth she found inappropriate for the mood of his moment. One she’d prefer to only have tenderness and care. Des taking the time to show her affection that no one else had. But now she’s thinking of him. On a date, telling her she shouldn’t go unnoticed with those fingers going places they should not go in public. Perhaps this dress on his bedroom floor. He must be good with his hands, what with all the typing.

“I’m sorry.” She pulls away suddenly, out of breath. “It’s getting late and I have to do my skincare before three am or I’ll break out.” Not like he’d know the difference. But Ace had to scurry off to her bedroom and settles matters herself before she ruined here entire friendship with a man that clearly noticed her more than anyone else had before.

#v. les fantomes. #s. ace & des.

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🛏 + lemony

🛏️  :    our  muses  are  forced  by  circumstance  to  share  a  bed  for  the  night .

Ace doesn’t typically make mistakes when it comes to booking things. The first time Wren tried booking somewhere for them that she considered ‘a shack’ (which Lennon found to be fie they just had to share a bathroom with one another), she took over everything.

But now they’re a bedroom short and Lennon wasn’t around for collecting keys, which meant he was in the lobby, on his phone, texting the group chat ‘where am i going to sleep tonight?’

The only reply he got was from Monroe, who sent a house emoji, and a dog emoji. He was in the lobby for thirty minutes before Harmony came out. It was a bit begrudgingly but he followed her silent beckon, making sure to stay a few spaces behind her.

He offered to sleep on the floor. She told him he was an idiot. He sat on thee further corner of her bed, trying not to stare. She had her hair tied back, in some old tee shirt and he knew it wasn’t the right time to tell her she looked beautiful, even if it was at the tip of her tongue. Instead he asked if they should put some pillows between them.

She just told him to keep his clothes on. So he did. He took off his shoes ad laid them nicely at the foot of the bed and he laid back. 

Lennon never laid so still in his life. Hand resting on his stomach. Even if he wanted to, would he be able to fall asleep? He didn’t want to cross some line he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to take advantage of her offering.

She told him to chill out. That if he looked any more tense he’d pinch a muscle. So he let out a log breath. He looked over to find her laying on her side, under the blankets, looking cozy. Looking like this was where she was meant to be. 

He asked her if she could wake up first, Harmony asked why. He told her he’d like waking up next to her too much and he didn’t want that. Not yet. 

She studied him for a long time, and he wasn’t sure if she was looking for something. It seemed difficult, considering it was dark in the room except for the moonlight pouring through. Then she hummed, and turned to lay away from him. Eventually, after a long time of listening to her soft ad eve breath, he fell asleep himself.

Thankfully, she was not in the bed when he woke up.

#v. les fantomes. #s. harmony & lennon.

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les Fantômes  -  a heist group

After the death of their fearless leader, Loren Henley, the world’s most elusive & prolific heist groups must rebuild what was lost… without getting caught first.

click to enlarge. @nataliescatorcio

#v. les fantomes. #edit.