The last time I saw Frank Turner was on March 6th (my birthday), at the infamous Roxy in Hollywood. And it was truly one of the best nights I’ve had this entire year. I remember glancing back at Kendra during “Four Simple Words,” and watched her ballroom dance (sober) with a complete stranger. I’m not sure any musician could bring people out of their shell quite like that. Frank Turner, like Paramore and Fall Out Boy, remain close to this blog, not only because he agreed to an interview when we were just getting started, but also because he encompasses our spirit – adults fighting to remain as young as we possibly can.
Dear Frank,
You’ve answered every email I’ve ever thrown your way, and have not once made me feel less of a person because I’ve included personal insights and shitty jokes. Yet, this time, you are not obligated to hit reply. Consider this a postcard, a note with no return address.
A year ago, “Four Simple Words,” reshaped the way I listened to live music. And each show I’ve attended since that one in Santa Barbara, I have repeated the words, “I want to dance.” You should know, I’m not very comfortable moving my body because I’ve always thought of it as a complete waste of space. Blame the middle schoolers in suburbia for their bullying, but now I’ve got “Good & Gone.” Seriously, “Fuck you, Hollywood,” for setting standards of any sort. I’m beginning to move, but not comfortably as most.
Speaking of which, I’ll be embarking on my first European trip this summer, leaving friends and family behind. The first thing I said was that I wanted was to dispose of my phone and replace it with a real camera. “Polaroid Picture,” captures all the worries and reminders of the importance of living in the moment. The ending of the song really solidifies that truth that “there was this one time,” but at least now, you’ve got it forever.
The lyricism on this album is what really drives the music. “Anymore” merely uses the guitar as a quiet metronome, while your voice delivers the sincerity of the words. Similarly, “Wherefore Art Thou Gene Simmons?” uses the same technique. The latter carries a more powerful message, dismissing the patriarchal structure of rock star. It’s about time someone sang less about women and groupies, and more so about how lead singers play into this social constructed stigma.
Not every song I found was entirely serious. Towards the end of the album, “Tattoo” lightened up the mood considerably. There’s no harsh justification for getting inked, no shouting at those who disagree. Like a Polaroid picture, and like Kendra has told me a thousand times, tattoos represent the you in a moment. “Time Machine,” perfect listening for any Doctor Who fan (especially today as it’s Doctor Day), is whimsical and innocent. I feel as though I’ve come across a rapidly talking scientist in a hobby shop. “Tattoos”
While I’ve heard these songs countless times live, they’ve progressed considerably; I’m still learning the words each and every time I listen. Despite that you’ve regarded Tape Deck Heart as a break up album, for me, it’s a getting-back-together-with-music tape. The simplicity of music without a computerized filter is reassuring that not all things must change.
Forever on my mixtape,
Ashley Jean
Tape Deck Heart is out now and is available on iTunes, Amazon, and Frank Turner’s online store.
Leave a Reply