Released on the 9th of January, this collection presents itself as a study in duality, bifurcated into two distinct emotional registers that chart the artist's evolution across its gestation period. The opening salvo – "Dressed up as Mercy", "I Don't Owe You Pretty", and "Lowkey Obsessed" – crackles with an immediacy born of momentum, tracks conceived in the white heat following the previous album's completion. There's an experimental verve here, a restless energy that refuses to settle, pushing against the boundaries of what a bedroom producer working with limited resources might reasonably achieve.
Yet it's in the album's second phase where *Unfiltered* truly earns its title. "Sparks of Freedom", "Think for Yourself", and the title track itself adopt a more contemplative stance, as though the artist has paused mid-sprint to consider the terrain. The shift is palpable – these are songs that have been lived with, worried over, refined through the crucible of those productive conflicts Frank describes with such candour. The warm, filtered synths create intimate sonic spaces where doubt and courage exist in uneasy equilibrium, where self-perception becomes both subject and object.
What strikes most forcefully about *Unfiltered* is its rigorous commitment to sonic coherence achieved through humble means. Frank's home setup becomes less a limitation than a creative parameter, forcing a kind of resourcefulness that manifests in controlled dynamics and strategic deployment of silence. There's a pleasing restraint at work here, an understanding that emotional impact needn't require maximalist production. The arrangements breathe, allowing melodic lines to emerge with clarity rather than drowning in unnecessary ornamentation.
The album grapples meaningfully with themes of authenticity in an era where such concerns have been rather cheapened through overuse. Yet Frank's approach feels genuine precisely because it refuses grandiosity. This isn't an artist making bold pronouncements about truth and art; it's someone navigating the quotidian challenges of remaining honest whilst raising children, coaching youth football, and holding down demanding employment. The ordinariness becomes extraordinary – music as a beautiful hobby, created in stolen hours, shaped by the feedback of unnamed friends whose contributions, though uncredited, prove invaluable.
One wonders what those friends made of "More Than Enough", the track Frank admits continues to elude perfection. Perhaps its very incompleteness is what makes it resonate – a reminder that the search for one's artistic voice is ongoing, never quite resolved. His friend's quoted wisdom – "It doesn't have to be perfect. There's no perfect! It has to be honest – and it has to be you!" – might serve as the album's unofficial manifesto.
*Unfiltered* won't trouble the upper reaches of year-end lists, nor will Frank likely grace the stages he cheerfully admits don't suit his personality. But that's rather beside the point. What we have here is an artist genuinely finding their voice, documenting the messy, uncertain process of artistic development with uncommon transparency. In an industry often drowning in artifice and calculated image-crafting, there's something quietly radical about such unvarnished honesty.
The album succeeds not despite its modest origins, but because of them – proof that meaningful art can emerge from anywhere, provided the creator possesses sufficient honesty, dedication, and the good fortune of friends willing to offer productive conflict. *Unfiltered* is precisely what it claims to be, and that alone makes it worth your time.