Franklin’s songs situate him in a long lineage of troubadours and poets, who manage to make sense of our nonsensical world, who tackle well-worn emotional territory from the kind of fresh perspective that makes it feel like virgin ground. He wrings every ounce of honesty and emotion from the music when he sings, delivering a series of intimate, unforgettable performances. At some turns a gentle tremble, at others an eerie, raspy wail, his voice is hopeful but experienced, weary but insistent, often sounding as if it’s lived dozens more lifetimes than the man it belongs to.