Fran

Fran

I grew up in a really quiet house, one that sort of felt frozen in time. The moments I felt most alive were when my mum put records on – always Soul and Motown. The Elgins, Marvin Gaye, Diana Ross. That’s where it all started for me, my love for music.

I fell into writing at uni, mainly blagging my way into gigs by volunteering for publications. I’m still proud to say I’ve never paid for a Warehouse Project. At first, it was just about the free entry, but over time I realised I actually enjoyed writing about music... who’d have thought?

I’m not a musician myself, but I’ve always been surrounded by mates who are – saxophones, drummers, bass guitars, you name it. I’ve learnt about music through listening, through being on the receiving end of someone else’s graft and talent. It’s a good place to be, a life of pleasure.

What I’ve come to understand is that a real musician isn’t just about skill, it’s about feeling. The best don’t just play – they need music. It’s part of their soul, how they function. For me, putting that into words is a privilege.

Acid Rain came to me in a fever dream, and that’s how the publication was born. I wanted it to be a platform where artists could benefit, a community. Five years on, it feels like it’s happening.

Through it I’ve met incredible people – artists, DJs, photographers, venue owners. I have interviewed some of my heroes, which has been such an accomplishment for me. I thought i never would open a music venue until i was in my 40s, but here i am freshly turned 30 with The Bag Factory in Salford. It may be small, but boy does it pack a punch.

My taste in music’s all over the place, and I like it that way. I’m always chasing new sounds, and I enjoy being proved wrong – I’ll give anything a listen at least once. Looking back, it’s gone through phases: younger me was all about Motown, teenage me was into Bassline, UKG and a bit of Donk, then as a young adult I got obsessed with Bonobo, Pink Floyd, Post-Rock and Psybient. All of that’s blended into whatever version of me exists now. And with the amount of new sounds, textures, rhythms and talent constantly coming out (especially in Manchester) it feels infinite.

It really does take a village to build a venue. We couldn’t have done it without the support around us. from people lending us gear to painting walls, just chipping in however they could. For that, we’re grateful. One skank at a time, we’re proving that change is possible, even when the scene looks bleak.

I might not be able to play, but I can feel and understand music deeply. That’s my privilege – and the bonus is, I love writing about it, to taking photos and filming our documentary called MADE IN MANCHESTER.

I am a proud Manc, this city made us.