“The reason Dougie just brought on a new microphone is because I managed to fill the other one with my spit!”
Frank Turner raises his arms, his facial expression somewhere between pride and dumbfounded amazement that he’s managed to break a microphone with saliva alone, and the crowd reward him with an almighty cheer. Somehow, he still finds a way to surprise himself, even 3018 gigs into his career.
It’s this insane longevity that’s given him the clout to elevate smaller opening acts, bringing them to the biggest stages they’ve likely ever played. Minnie Birch opens the evening, delivering a subdued set that flipped between spoken word poetry and hushed folk, with a particular emphasis on the quiet decisions or turns of fate that alter our lives dramatically.
Following that are Amigo the Devil. Their robust blues rock arrangements, hair whipping keyboardist and manic drums – seriously, the drummer looks like he’s having the time of his life – are all welcome, even if the gratuitous ‘boomer humour’ fails to hit the mark.
The air gets warmer and thicker ahead of Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls; a result of both the blazing lighting being kicked to unstable extremes, and the natural rise in anticipation and intensity as a headliner takes to the stage.
Given how long Frank Turner has been touring, one might expect a gig to just be simply ‘going through the motions’ at this point. Not a bit of it. He radiates pure joy that uplifts an audience by force of will alone, performing like it’s his first time on a stage. There’s not an ounce of judgement or shame within a mile of this show, and Frank makes sure of that straight from the off.
Three walloping punk tracks open the set, accompanied by a lot of athletic galloping across the stage, before Frank takes the opportunity to establish the two rules that must be followed at his gigs: don’t be a dickhead, and sing along if you know the words.
The setlist is a well-woven mix of folksier cuts from older albums and the meteoric punk rock he’s known for now, tied together by a common thread of optimism amidst challenge. Before playing ‘Be More Kind’, Frank muses on how he tried to make a political statement with his music in the mid 2010s when he felt the world was falling apart, laughing at how little has changed between now and then. Nonetheless, the song remains a powerful reminder of the power of simple kindness in turbulent times, performed with a lot of heart.
It’s joyous. Every song sounds like an anthem sung by a man who has long since found his calling in life having fought tooth and nail to get here. “I’m still standing up, and there’s nothing you can do” he sings on ‘Do One’, exuding triumph and resilience as the audience chants along.
Both naturally and gloriously, he ends with ‘Four Simple Words’, the ultimate tribute to the music life. His decision get the audience to spin around ballet-style during that song is an odd one but, then again, that’s Frank’s ‘no fucks given’ attitude for you. It’s an attitude that’s resulted in a steady ascent over two decades and an incredible show. He’s got another 3000 in him.
featured image: Shannon Shumaker
