Artist: Dia Frampton
Album: Red
Genre: Indie
Label: Universal Republic

I hadn’t heard the name Dia Frampton before this review, but I certainly won’t be forgetting it now. Red is a gorgeous collection of songs, quirky and fine with a very strong sense of self. Frampton’s pristine vocals steer an understated but faithful line of instruments that add depth and purpose to her works, creating a relatively short but memorable album that’s equal parts folk, pop, and indie and almost entirely flawless.

“Don’t Kick the Chair” opens with a touch of oddball warbling, which seems to bode ill for the album at first. Once it fades however, Frampton’s leisurely vocal takes the reins. It’s slightly layered – filtered through a barely-there bass for a spaced, ambient sound. The singing gathers more conviction as she goes along to become quite glossy and pretty. It’s somewhat akin to Lights and adds a clear feelgood vibe to the track. KiD CuDi adds a little bit of diversity and dynamism, keeping things edgy and adding to the song’s succinct charm.

“Isabella” is also charming and poppy, though with a distinctive flair. It’s a little more urgent in terms of pace and rhythm, kicking things up a notch and adding infinitely to the album’s nascent appeal. Frampton’s voice continues to impress, its naturalistic dulcet tones channelling the song’s compelling folk elements. She seems to sing purely from the heart, without being stylised as so many vocalists tend to be these days. This obvious enthusiasm lends the track a sparkle and effortless grace. It’s not quite as moody as the opener, feeling a lot more organic particularly in its use of sparse piano keys here and there. “The Broken Ones” is a lot barer and stripped down. The delicate musical landscape really suits the glassy elegance of her voice. There’s something almost Scandinavian about it in timbre, combining something cold and eerie with an innate eloquence. The song is gentle but momentous, embracing little rolls of percussion in its strong backing rhythm to ensure it holds your attention but doesn’t intrude. The fleet of underlying strings in its second verse adds to the inherent romanticism and gives it a classic touch.

“Good Boy” is easygoing, possessing something faintly urban. It’s not as spunky or poppy as the preceding tracks, the instrumentation going for a heavier bass sound and thus creating something hazier and less melodic. It’s followed by the one dud note on the album – “I Will,” which features Blake Shelton and comes good on its chart power-ballad potential. Shelton’s presence adds ill-fitting shades of country while her voice is destroyed by the ruinously cheesy instrumentation. There are clearly good intentions here but it’s all too marinated in sentiment to be anything other than generic. “Billy the Kid” is a perfect antidote however. It’s a standout track on an album of standouts, which ought to give some indication as to its style. It’s very quirky, employing theatrics and carefully filtering them through a dancelike beat. The song is immediately catchy and very colourful, muting the vocals to allow for anticipation through the relentless beat instead. The chorus is big and iridescent, adding further vocal elements for intensity. Work such as this shows a keen eye and ear for detail and oodles of creativity and spirit. The adventurous and fun-loving side suits Frampton and maximises her distinctive potential.

“Daniel” has a brash, innocent sound that initially reminds me of Taylor Swift’s similarly childlike “Never Grow Up” (as I’ve surely noted before, I love Ms. Swift and this is entirely a compliment). It captures a kind of tender nostalgia although it’s actually rather sad. Frampton’s clear vocals are tinged with remorse and add poignancy. The song manages to avoid sounding dully sentimental and seems sincere and honest, its lone acoustic guitar a subtle player in creating a touching and vivid portrait.

“Walk Away” is more laid-back with a casual rhythm, and “Bullseye” very ambient, even reflective. There’s a dull sense of sobriety to the deadpan vocals, though the music itself is very rich and affecting. “Trapeze” is largely acoustic, reviving the naturalistic vibe for a fitting conclusion to the album. Frampton is more playful in her vocals, contrasting with music that’s searching and muted. Lyrically, she seems to reflect, singing soulfully and from the heart. The guitar keeps things immediate in its relentless strumming, but the piano adds something more decorative and pensive. It too has a folk-esque sound, particularly in the rousing chorus, and showcases enormous conviction in her vocals. The music rolls on briefly after the singing ends, lending an aptly free-spirited ending to the record.

Unfamiliar as I am with Frampton’s prior work with Meg & Dia, I can heartily recommend her as a solo artist on foot of this album. Her songs are classy and elegant, sounding apart and individual while still retaining a very human charm. It feels like an intimate album but hints at ambitions that far exceed such humble origins, and will leave you feeling contented and soothed.

Rating: 9/10
Review written by Grace Duffy

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James Shotwell

James Shotwell is the founder of Under The Gun Review. He loves writing about music and movies almost as much as he loves his two fat cats. He's also the co-founder of Antique Records and the Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. You should probably follow him on Twitter.

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