Franxie Lets the Performance Lead on “Stone”

Live piano and voice give this intimate ballad its unsteady pulse, with subtle layers extending its reach.

The piano and vocal on Franxie’s “Stone” were recorded together through a single microphone. Their timing shifts remain intact, giving the song about anxiety a pulse that can hesitate, and I like that vulnerability. The accompaniment moves with the person singing, keeping the emotional pressure close to the surface.

Layered backing vocals and Sofia’s bass and electric guitar expand the arrangement around that original performance. The production has something delicate to work around, and Franxie gives it space. Keeping the take that subsequent attempts couldn’t replace is great decision! On a song about releasing emotional weight, allowing those unresolved edges to remain gives the writing some serious power.

Interview with Franxie

1. “Stone” is built around anxiety, emotional weight and letting go. What was the feeling you were carrying when you first started writing the song, and when did it become clear that letting go was part of its answer?

I wrote “Stone” almost 10 years ago, and at the time I don’t think I really understood what I was trying to say. I just knew everything felt heavy. There was this feeling of being stuck inside my own thoughts and trying to keep myself together while also feeling completely exhausted by it.

I think the idea of letting go became clearer much later. For a long time I treated strength as being able to keep carrying everything, no matter how heavy it got. Over the last few years I’ve had to unlearn that a bit. Sometimes letting go, changing your mind or admitting that something is too heavy is actually the stronger choice.

2. You kept a raw live piano and vocal take at the centre of the recording rather than rebuilding the performances from scratch. What did that original take capture emotionally that you didn't want to lose?

It captured me not thinking too much.

The piano and vocal were recorded together live with one microphone and a grand piano. There are little timing imperfections and things I probably could have performed more cleanly if I recorded them separately, and that was actually part of why I left the recording alone for almost a year.

Every time I thought about rerecording it properly, though, it felt like I was removing something. The original take had this fragility and tension that suited the song. Eventually I realised that polishing it into perfection would probably defeat the point.

3. The production is subtle, allowing the piano and voice to remain exposed. How did you decide which digital textures belonged in the song without covering up its intimacy?

A lot of it was about reacting to what was already there rather than trying to completely transform it. Because the piano and vocal were already one live recording, they dictated the feel of everything else.

I slowly added harmonies, bass, guitar and some subtle production around that recording, but I tried to make everything support the original performance rather than compete with it. Sofia Pila played bass and guitar on the track as well, which helped give it more movement and texture without making it feel huge.

I like production that gives you little things to discover without immediately announcing itself.

4. The title “Stone” suggests something heavy, fixed and difficult to move. What does the stone represent to you, and did its meaning change while you were making the track?

Originally I think the stone was me. The chorus literally has me falling down like a stone, so I saw it as this image of finally becoming too heavy to keep yourself upright.

Now I think it represents the things we carry as well. Anxiety, expectations, relationships, responsibility, whatever you're gripping onto because you think you have to.

The meaning has definitely changed as I’ve changed. I used to hear the song as falling apart. Now I hear more acceptance in it. Falling doesn’t necessarily mean failing. Sometimes you’re just finally putting something down.

5. Your music often explores autonomy, dissociation and emotional shutdown rather than straightforward emotional release. How does “Stone” fit into that more complicated space between feeling something intensely and being unable to act on it?

A lot of my writing seems to live in that weird gap between knowing something emotionally and actually being able to do anything about it.

“Stone” definitely sits there. There’s this awareness that something is too heavy and that you need to let go, but there’s also resistance to actually doing it. I think anxiety can be like that. You can understand logically that you’re safe, or that you can leave, change your mind, stop carrying something, whatever it is, while your body is still reacting like you can’t.

I tend to understand what I was feeling more clearly when I look back at songs later. It’s a bit like standing back from a painting. Sometimes I need the distance before I can see what I actually made.

6. There is a tension in your sound between softness and sharpness, which you describe almost like pressing on a bruise. How do you create that physical discomfort through such restrained instrumentation?

I think contrast does most of the work.

I love beautiful sounds paired with uncomfortable ideas. A soft vocal can sometimes feel more confronting than screaming if the words underneath it are heavy enough.

With “Stone”, there’s a lot of space. The vocal is exposed, the piano isn't perfectly locked to a grid, and certain harmonies or textures appear and disappear rather than sitting there constantly. I think leaving space around something emotional can make you notice it more. There’s nowhere for it to hide.

7. “Fucking Around” and “Nobody’s Home” explore different emotional states within the same evolving body of work. Where does “Stone” sit in relation to those songs, and what new emotional territory does it introduce?

They almost feel like different responses to being overwhelmed.

“Fucking Around” has more frustration and self-awareness in it. “Nobody’s Home” is much more about dissociation and disappearing into yourself. “Stone” feels like the point where the weight of everything catches up with you and you finally stop fighting gravity.

I think it also introduces more acceptance. It’s still sad and anxious, but it isn't completely hopeless. There’s something freeing about admitting you can’t hold everything forever.

8. You are revisiting older songs while also writing new material for an EP. Has returning to earlier work changed the way you hear the person who originally wrote those songs?

Definitely. There are songs where I can see now that I knew something was wrong long before I had the language or context to explain it. At the time I might have thought I was just writing about anxiety or relationships or feeling stuck, and then years later I listen back and realise there was much more underneath it that I didn't know how to vocalise.

It’s also nice because I don't feel like I have to rewrite her perspective to make it match who I am now. I can let the original song exist and then decide what I want to add to it from where I am now.

9. Self-production gives you complete control over how vulnerable a performance remains in the final mix. Do you find that empowering, or does having no one else to tell you when a song is finished sometimes make the process harder?

Both, absolutely. I love self-producing because I can follow weird ideas without needing to justify them to anyone. I can spend an unreasonable amount of time on one tiny harmony or decide that an imperfect live recording is actually the centre of the entire song.

The downside is that nobody comes into the room and takes the laptop away from me. I can edit forever if I let myself. Learning when something is finished has probably been one of the biggest parts of learning production for me. Sometimes finished just means deciding that the song represents where you are right now and letting it go.

10. Your upcoming EP is centred on creative freedom, confidence and growth on your own terms. What does “growth” mean to you musically when you don't want that growth to come at the cost of your original voice?

I don't think growth has to mean becoming more polished or complicated.

For me it’s probably the opposite. I want to become more confident in recognising what a song actually needs and not adding things just because I feel like I'm supposed to prove that I can.

I'm currently studying music and constantly learning more about production, recording and sound, so obviously my technical skills are changing, but I still want curiosity to be at the centre of it. I want to be able to make something strange, simple, messy or beautiful because that’s what the song needs, not because it fits some idea of what progression is meant to look like.

11. Coming from Wollongong, how much does the atmosphere of your surroundings influence the quieter, more internal side of your songwriting?

I think Wollongong definitely gets into the music without me consciously trying to put it there.

You’ve got the escarpment on one side and the ocean on the other, so there’s this strange feeling of being surrounded by something much bigger than you while still living in a fairly small city. There are a lot of places to disappear into your own head.

The music community here has influenced me too. It’s a small scene, but there are so many incredible artists making things independently, and venues and organisations like Society City, La La La’s and Yours & Owls have created spaces where that can exist.

12. When you listen back to “Stone” now, does it feel more like a record of the anxiety you were experiencing, or like evidence that you had already begun to release it?

Probably both, but I think that’s why I finally feel ready to release it.

For years I mostly heard the anxiety in it. Now I can hear someone trying to find a way out of it too, even if she didn't completely know that's what she was doing.

I think that’s one of the strange things about songwriting. Sometimes you write the thing you need to understand years before you actually understand it.

So “Stone” feels like a record of where I was, but also a little piece of evidence that some part of me already knew I wouldn't have to carry everything forever.

(•)> That's all, Folks! Check it out on the Pigeon Opinion Playlist