Now Playing: 'Try This At Home' from Poetry Of The Deed by Frank Turner

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Over the last ten years, the notion that being glib is the height of biting sarcasm and criticism has spread like a virus, been refined and finally honed to a flawless edge before being sent out to hack down the previous crop of next big things suddenly and brutally. The problem with such slash and burn tactics is that there just aren't that many bands coming up that are particularly good at it; because they all pass through so quickly and utilize so many  of the same ideas and sounds, they have all the clarity and nuance of tenth or twelfth generation carbon copies; they're distinguishable only by their faded edges and imperfections. The mill began turning shortly after NoFX and Guttermouth set the precedents for biting – and bitingly funny – commentary but, as exemplified by the craven and style-conscious likes of Fall Out Boy and Panic At The Disco, the currency of crass criticism has been devalued to penny stock levels. Now, it's not uncommon to notice that lyrics sheets simply resemble a composite assemblage of one-liners and mishandled punchlines.

It all sounds very bleak, but the upside to such a static landscape is that when a genuine original comes along, it stands out large as life and plain as day – and all the toasted carbon copies are forgotten that fast' it is real, and anyone can recognize it.

Such is the beauty of Frank Turner and his second album this year for Epitaph (while release in the UK in 2008, Love Ire & Song hit the shores of North America earlier this year), Poetry Of The Deed. From note one of “Live Fast, Die Old,” – with its stomping drums, scorching but lean guitars and hammered, single-note piano – both song and singer stand in total defiance of pop and politically-bent rock while also playing to those establishments  with all the faith and heart of a true believer, but a view and lyrical sensibility that goes straight against the established hearts of both and thus taking the piss out of all the other self-important pop and rock stars on the charts. It's all right there in the first verse:
“I bought my soul back from the devil
and now I'm keeping it all to myself.
I'm checking myself out of the program
because I know what's best for my health....”

And then:
“You'd rather burn out than fade away?
Well why not both, I plan to stay...”

“I'm gonna live fast and I'm gonna die old.”

If that's not a message of intent, I don't know what is but, with such a powerful statement made, how could one hope to follow it?

As it turns out, “Live Fast, Die Old” is only the perfect beginning. Immediately thereafter, Turner steps up his game a little further with the empowering-by-way-of-sucker-punch sentiment of “Try This At Home: which begs everyone to pick up instruments and fill the world with as many voices as possible while getting some licks in on hero-worshiping fans with some Lydon-esque sibilance (“You could do so much better than some skinny, half-arsed cunt-rey singer”) as well as other ways both upfront and understated.

If such digs and smart-assed commentary were made from atop a five-star production with all the assistance the most expensive studio in the world had to offer, these songs probably wouldn't have the same impact as they do but, because Turner and his backing musicians have more grassroots to them than glam, the songs and performances of them seem that much more attainable and relatable to listeners – particularly punk rock audiences – which makes it that much easier for the singer to win hearts even when he's tipping sacred cows.

With the methodology in place, Turner sets to continuing his rootsy ripping and ribbing (imagine if Billy Bragg had a smart mouth to go with his quick tongue and political temperment and you're on the right track) of every unseemly power-that-be and vile personal indulgence that truly needs it. After the aforementioned establishment-baiting, the British government and monarchy go on the block in “Sons Of Liberty” (choice lyric: “So if ever a man should ask you for your business, or your name/ tell him to go fuck himself, tell his friends to do the same”) before Turner reveals a very candid look at his family life (“Faithful Son”) and lets his heart go out to those depressed souls he sees around him (“Richard Divine”) among others. Each one is captivating, because Turner voluntarily inhabits each scenario – no matter how dark – and invites listeners to do the same so they can understand the subtleties rather than cast their impressions from the inside out. That sort of interior involvement (rather than callous outside observation or contrived simpiness for a doomed figure) is very cathartic for listeners and compliments the musical treatment of the matter perfectly; while obviously judgmental and outspoken, Turner and his band offer no flash, no dazzle and no critique from the comfy confines of a designer wardrobe, only the very real impressions and heart of an honest, and unrepentant every-man. Being himself is the best thing Frank Turner could have done on Poetry In The Deed.

Artist:
www.frank-turner.com
www.myspace.com/frankturner

Album:
Poetry In The Deed is out now. Buy it on Amazon .