So, in the space of the lsat couple of months, I have seen The Dirty Dancing Musical (shudder), Ed Sheeran (Hooray), The Zac Brown Band (Hooray) and Frank Turner (Hooray!!). It’s been a great time – and certainly more live entertainment than I’ve seen ni the previous couple of years. What can I say? It seems like a lot of my favourite bands seemed to come to Australia at the same time. I don’t regret a moment of it. Well, maybe Dirty Dancing.
Every time I’ve been to a show, I’ve been captured, once again, by the power of live music – Ed Sheeran was unashamedly brilliant – a full performance from one man and a loop pedal, and the Zac Brown Band showed what you can do with a really tightly knit band, but it was the show that I was most suspicious of – Frank Turner – that really spoke to me about the beauty and the rawness that is live music.
The Metro is a tiny little club that I saw my first bands in. In the 90s, bands like Radiohead (before they became huge), the Dandy Warhols, Gomez and even Muse have all played there. I saw some of them – they were brilliant. The whole venue probably only fits 1000 people – if that – and no matter where you end up standing – because it is standing room only -you have a clear view of the band – provided that you’re not four foot tall. Or that the Man Mountain from Berkshire is in front of you. It’s got that old club feel – sticky floors and black walls – that is hard to find in an era of polished service areas and slick merchandising. Even the merch stand is a table set up to one side as you walk into the main part of the auditorium. And unlike the Hordern, there are plenty of bars – you don’t have to wait 3 hours just to get a bear.
And Frank? Well, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d heard I Still Believe on Triple J while sitting at a traffic light on the Northern Road in Penrith. By the time I’d got home, I’d downloaded the whole Love, Ire and Song album. His brand of post-punk-folk music was exactly what I wanted to hear, and I listened to the album on repeat for hours, smiling to myself and bemusing other joggers when I heard Photosynthesis, no doubt providing much amusement to other drivers while I sung along to the title track in my car. I didn’t care.
But could he deliver live? I realise now what a foolish question that was. There’s nothing that’s constructed about Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls. They are, first and foremost, a band that loves playing live – and they’re good at it. If anything, the album was a pale reflection of their live performance. From the first song – I want to dance – to the last, Frank sang, played, sweated and, surprisingly, drank with the audience. The sincerity of what he was doing seemed to leach from his skin. He made jokes. He told stories. He hit bum notes and misplayed chords. Is he the greatest singer I’ve ever heard? Probably not. He’s probably not the best guitar player either: but there’s a synergy that means the whole package is so much more than the sum of the parts.
There were moments there when the whole crowd was singing along with Frank. In fact, it was the crowd doing the singing, and Frank was standing by. And that wasn’t just during the joke Bon Jovi covers! There’s something about his music that touches people. That makes them think that the song was written for them, about their lives, and Frank knows exactly how they’re feeling. Heady stuff, indeed.