Vol. II by Francis Fell is like stumbling across a lost cassette in your cool aunt’s attic—something nostalgic, sun-drenched, and strangely magnetic. Recorded mostly on analogue gear, this three-song EP is a warm, lo-fi hug wrapped in psychedelic dreams and indie charm. From the very first strum of “Wait,” you’re pulled into Fell’s hazy universe of tea-stained bedrooms, aching phone calls, and waiting. The guitars shimmer like late-afternoon light through dusty windows, while the vocals—a husky, soothing croon—make loneliness sound oddly romantic.
Then comes “Mary’s Song,” and things get moodier. Organ wails drift above shadowy bass and blurred-out vocals that feel like they’re being transmitted from a dream. There’s a groove lurking underneath that keeps things grounded, but it’s still got that floaty, soft-focus vibe.
And just when you think you’ve got the EP pegged, “Lionpebble” rolls in—gentle, mindful, and gorgeously melancholic. The strumming is delicate at first, almost unsure of itself, but then the dusty drums and radiant guitars burst through like a slow-building sunrise. Fell sings like he’s remembering something precious and painful all at once. This one’s anti-pop in the best way: it’s introspective, oddly catchy, and completely its own thing.
The best part is Francis Fell doesn’t sound like anyone but themselves. You can hear the 60s, 70s, maybe even a hint of Tame Impala on mushrooms, but it all feels new. Real instruments, real performances, and a voice that doesn’t need auto-tune to hit you in the gut—Vol. II is a short but potent reminder that music made with heart (and tape machines) still hits different.
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Review by: Naomi Joan