One evening in November of 2024, as the gloomy chill of winter set in, over 50 people flocked to a meeting of the East Providence City Council. They filled the rows of folding chairs set out in a usually quiet and sparsely attended meeting hall.
The occasion for this uncommon congregation was the seemingly mundane question of renewing an entertainment license. But more than a bureaucratic banality hung in the balance. In just the one short year, Myrtle – a new local hub for music, craft cocktails and creative vendors – had held this license, a thriving community of patrons, musicians, and merchants had flowered. Now members of that community formed a long line to raise their voices in support of this space at risk of disappearing with a penstroke.
When the City Council voted to renew the license, loud applause swept the hall. The crowd celebrated by shaking hands and trading hugs before dispersing back into the night.
I spoke that night too. And when I parted from that crowd I carried with me a joyful conviction: it happens in and around Providence.
I searched for it for many years. Since leaving my hometown Massachusetts suburb at eighteen, I moved every year or two. Changing jobs and rents pushed me across towns and states. My life changed shape according to the economy. All along, I was striving to make and keep friends, to find spaces where I could create and share freely among peers.
Everywhere I journeyed, I dragged with me stacks of binders burning with hundreds of songs I’d written in every genre from pop to folk to rock to jazz. Parallel to my quest to survive ran my quest to record my debut album. But despite persistent trial and error, relocations and relentless reconfiguration of collaborators caused this quest to stretch across years. Ten years, climbing up a hill, head down.
When finally in 2024 I held my autobiographical first record – titled francis – in my hands the question suddenly hit me: How do I share this? My performance skills were sorely underdeveloped and my social group was strung across thousands of miles. How could I hope to bring people together to celebrate this achievement? Fortunately for me, I had just moved to Providence.
I desperately needed a third space: a place outside my own apartment where I don’t have to be a professional or a customer, to test my songs and my mettle. Experimenting at open mics ran foul in most towns, but I landed in Providence with fresh hope. I wandered first into The Parlour, drawn by instinct to the squat dive bar up North Main Street, with blue brick murals. I found a down-to-earth regular crowd: talented musicians who welcome each other to the scene, uplifting and inspiring each other. In the gaps of busy life I found a place to play and in gaps between sets I found new friends.
On that firm ground I grew the confidence to set up a show. I reached out to Myrtle asking them to host my album release. Myrtle impresses any visitor immediately. Gorgeously furnished in vintage decor and hanging moss, it conjures southern nostalgia, a relaxed and intimate oasis worth the pilgrimage to East Providence for patrons and artists alike.
I presumed myself overly ambitious – surely such a fine space would be closed to me. But the owners, Tommy and Natalie, invited me readily into their beautiful establishment and gladly collaborated, planning a special themed cocktail inspired by my music and named “the francis,” making space for and donating to The Network/La Red, a local charity I worked with. Myrtle offered itself as a family offers their home, and the gratitude I feel to them propelled me to city hall that November evening.
Granted this special opportunity, pressure to promote the show loomed. Ask any artist: promotion is sisyphean. But yet again, the Providence cultural scene met me more than half way. Seeking local voices who take interest in local art, I chanced upon podcasters James Toomey and Bill Bartholomew.
James time-capsules the long and under-documented music history of Rhode Island and celebrates today’s thriving artists. Bill dives into the nitty gritty of Rhode Island politics, happenings and culture. Both treated me with kindness and brought me onto their platforms with genuine interest. Speaking on their shows wove me tighter into the fabric of Providence’s creative scene. This level of kinship and generosity comes very rarely.
In August of 2024 my debut album was released. I expected a sense of finality to close over my decade’s pursuit. But Providence sprung opportunities anew. Catching up at Ogie’s with musician Pat Kenny (aka Kipsy) about the challenges of making music in the margins of busy lives he pointed me to local recording spot Big Nice Studios, in Lincoln, run by Bradford Kreiger. “Brad has the stuff” he said. Right he was.
At the end of cracked roads that snake between abandoned brickworks, banked against the Blackstone River’s rolling water where textile cargo once floated to sea, Big Nice Studio stands like a jovial giant. Under towering ceilings, Bradford runs a factory for catching lightning in bottles. And that’s precisely what we did time and again, covering as much artistic ground in a year as I tread glacially over a decade. Suddenly my second record arrived.
So the album cycle and its story repeats. But now I didn’t stumble upon Providence at a grueling marathon’s finish line; instead I celebrate this joy rooted in an amazing community. This time, my good friend Brie Roche-Lilliott and I are collaboratively hosting an evening of creativity, community and style at her stunningly renovated Victorian home, The Rausch Haus at 36 Whitmarsh in Providence. She hosts clothing swaps, concerts, video shoots, and operates her vintage business Siren & Saint. Fellow Providence singer-songwriters Marou and Margaux Lynn will join us. Newport artist Cassie Minto will do live painting. Brie will devise stylish outfit changes for my performance. And who knows what else? Providence bubbles with people seeking to gather and enjoy the spark of creativity and the warmth of good company.
Providence presents a snapshot of American infrastructure a century ago. Mills in disuse, bridges in disrepair, and communities brewing in a mosaic of relics. We fight for better physical infrastructure, for roads and bridges. But the most important bridges reach between people. Gentrification blows like the dustbowl across our country, filling every third space. But in Providence we build community.
Franny Keeps is an avid songwriter and record producer, as well as a professional animator, videographer, illustrator, designer and parent to a one and a half year old lightning bolt named Ross. Their second record releases October 25th, 2025, 6pm at The Rausch Haus. More details at frannykeeps.com.
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