British singer-songwriter Frank Turner has played quite a few shows.
Two thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-one, in fact.
That seems like a lot, doesn’t it? Well, that’s only half of it. What’s important to remember is that not all of those shows would’ve taken place in the confines of Mr. Turner’s backyard. For some, he would’ve travelled a couple of hours; for others, he would’ve hopped on a sixteen-hour flight to some far-flung corner of the world.
Then, upon arrival, he would’ve had to travel to the venue; thrash his way through a soundcheck; and, until relatively recently, try to get his tired hands on a grubby sandwich for his makeshift dinner.
But don’t worry – this isn’t an exposé on the harsh realities of toilet circuit touring life. What we’re really saying here, dear reader, is that Frank Turner has spent the majority of his adult life on the road.
Is it any wonder, then, that he’s so bloody good live?
.
It takes a storied performer to transform a room that’s half balcony, half seating-cum-makeshift-standing-area into a veritable party – but, on a cold Tuesday in Bath, Frank Turner managed to do just that.
From the moment he galloped onto the stage and burst into the opening lines of Recovery to the instant he belted out the closing notes of Four Simple Words, Frank gave a textbook example of how to make even the most intimate of venues feel like a jam-packed stadium.
Backed by The Sleeping Souls, Turner and co. rattled through a mild-a-minute set of fan favourites, cult classic hits, and cuts from his latest long-player, FTHC. Of these, it’s Haven’t Been Doing So Well that’s the highlight: a rollicking, hook-laden arena rock classic-in-waiting, it’s not only the high point of the night, but it’s one of the best tracks Turner’s ever written.
.
And as for Turner’s skills as a showman? Well, the man can’t be faulted.
The old saying states that it takes ten thousand hours to become an expert in any given field; and if ever there was proof of this, it’s Frank Turner. The hours he’s spent on the road have meant that he’s become the ultimate frontman; every movement is calculated, and refined, and has been carefully considered to ensure that the eyes of each and every member of the audience are permanently on him.
So, long live Frank Turner. He may not be a household name, but we challenge anybody – anybody – to go to one of his shows and not have the time of their life. After all, what’s not to love? He’s got the band, he’s got the stage chops, and he’s got enough arena-ready alt-rock bangers to turn even the most skeptical of dragged-along gig-goers into fully-fledged Frank Turner converts by the end of his set.
