O2 Academy 2, Birmingham, 19th July 2024
It’s a sweltering 27°C in Birmingham tonight, but that doesn’t matter much. Because rain or shine, with Frank Turner playing in the O2 Academy’s second room tonight, all 600 people in the venue will be drenched in sweat by the end of the night anyway.
Before Turner even comes on, the temperature inside the intimate venue is already rising. Security guards frantically hand out cups of chilled water, clammy shoulders press against each other, and a murmur of excitement ripples through the venue as passionate fans wait for the show to start.
Finally, Frank Turner and his band, The Sleeping Souls, saunter on stage. Wasting no time – for they have a 25-song setlist to get through – they launch into ‘No Thank You for the Music’, a boisterous punk number from his latest album, Undefeated. It’s just the first song, but it already feels like the venue’s energy (and temperature) can’t get any higher.
‘Girl From the Record Shop’, ‘Get Better’, and ‘The Next Storm’ receive an equally booming reception. Bodies are smashing into each other, arms and legs are flailing, and people’s foreheads are shimmering with sweat. Seizing the moment, Turner motions to the crowd to part.
“Rule number one,” he says. “If you’ve already been to one of my shows before, you know what I’m going to say.”
And as if to prove his point, the crowd shouts back, “Don’t be a dickhead!”
“Rule number two, sing along if you know the words. And rule number three, look after each other.”
Wasting no time, his loyal fans obey, starting the first of many moshpits of the night. With each song fading into the next, the show is mad and frantic, and the crowd revels in the bedlam.
“During the pandemic, I didn’t write any music about what we were going through because it felt a little on the nose,” he explains in one of the show’s few moments of respite. “But now that we’re past it, I wrote this song,” he chuckles as he breaks into the aptly named ‘Pandemic PTSD’.
‘Long Live the Queen’, ‘Balthazar, Impresario’, and ‘The Ballad of Me and My Friends’ mark the set’s acoustic portion, with each song receiving an even more joyful reception than the last. While most artists prefer to stick to the same setlist every night of a tour, Turner keeps the crowd on their toes, playing tracks across his impressive ten album discography. A fervent singalong accompanies each song, serving as a testament to the dedicated community Turner has built. He may not have performed these songs for a while, but judging by the euphoric cheer each song receives, you wouldn’t be blamed for thinking they were his most popular.
‘Somewhere Inbetween’ marks a definite interlude in the audience’s sustained commotion. While Turner ordinarily exudes confidence and mastery, ‘Somewhere Inbetween’ reveals his more introspective, vulnerable side.
“I’m 42, and I still have no fucking idea what I’m doing with my life,” he admits before diving straight into the song’s heartbreaking first line: “I’ve been pretending to be somebody else since I was just fifteen,” he sings thoughtfully into the microphone.
“No sense of where I’m standing, half my fucking life caught somewhere in between,” he cries, face contorted in discomfort, fists clenched, and grasping at his sweat-soaked shirt. As a singer-songwriter often praised for his honesty and earnestness, Turner is no stranger to being vulnerable on stage. But here, singing about how he still suffers from impostor syndrome and uncertainty despite having built up a worshipping fanbase, he seems more exposed and sensitive than ever before. And if his fans’ reaction is anything to go by, is more than deserving of his continual success.
Without taking a moment to breathe, he dives into a flurry of his more upbeat hits, old and new, including anti-fascist ‘1933’, ‘Non-Serviam’, and the toe-tapping ‘Do One’, which elicits a unanimous singalong from the crowd.
Fan-favourite ‘Photosynthesis’ marks the end of the main show before ‘Undefeated’, ‘Recovery’, ‘I Still Believe’, and ‘Four Simple Words’ end the night on a frenzied high note. After having heard stories of his tumultuous teenage years (‘Caesefire’), struggles with his mental health (‘Haven’t Been Doing So Well’), and finding meaning in life without religion (‘Glory Hallelujah’), there’s no better way to end than by asking the crowd to join their hands above their heads, spin in circles, and dance like nobody was watching.
No one is quite doing it like Frank Turner. He might not have fancy pyrotechnics, elaborate stage setups, or a troupe of backup dancers, but if there’s one thing Turner knows how to do, it’s put on a show. And with this being his show number 2921, it’s no surprise he’s mastered his craft. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll dance, but most importantly, you’ll have a roaring good time. Because, after all, in Turner’s own words, “Who thought that something as simple as rock and roll would save us all?”.
Words and images: Sophie Flint Vázquez
TrueStyleMusic 