Album Review

It's rare that an album forcefully grabs my attention from the very first song. It's even rarer that said album still refuses to relinquish its hold five songs later, when my headphones are torn cruelly from my aural canal by the end of my commute. Frank Turner's Love, Ire and Song is just such an album and more remarkably, the expectations are met on second, third and all repeat listens since.

Let's back up: what does the album actually sound like? To pigeonhole the album, it's largely a folk-rock affair, with Turner evoking a sound that's part Billy Bragg's poetic critique of the world, and part Dashboard Confessionals earnest, strong, powerful vehicle for a voice, which is every bit as satirical and lyrically smart as Morrissey or The Magnetic Fields. On the subject of lyrics, it's been quite a while since I've been left grinning at the intelligence of vocals that leave me continually surprised with the direction and rhyme they're heading towards, and Love, Ire and Song is full of such moments. As the instrumentation is often secondary to Turner's voice, his sharp lyrics frequently rise to the surface, emoted with just the right amount of bile or passion. In 'Reasons not to be an idiot' for example he intones that:

I'm not as awesome as this song makes out,
I'm angry, underweight and sketching out,
I'm building bonfires on my vanities and doubts,
To get warm just like everybody else.

On the considerably more angry single 'Photosynthesis', Turner taps into the worries every 20something feels about having to grow up, mature and become as dull as your older peers:

All your friends and peers and family solemnly tell you you will,
Have to grow up, be an adult, yeah, be bored and unfulfilled,
Oh, but no one's yet explained to me exactly what's so great,
About slaving 50 years away on something that you hate.

Suffice it to say, throughout the album, there are clever and insightful snippets like these that I could easily fill my word count with, if didn't have editorial standards to conform to.

The brilliant and immediate beginning of the album does slow up around halfway through and gives way to less catchy, quieter folk numbers that take longer to become favourites, but manage to display Turner's versatility admirably. The title track in particular, manages to bridge the gap between quiet, sensitive folk and rocky anger with aplomb and by the time you get to the piano led closer 'Jet Lag' 12 songs in, you can't help but be amazed at how much time has passed and restart the album.

It's with zero doubt in my mind that this is what a five star album should sound like: smart, witty, catchy, impassioned, with enough depth to withstand hundreds of listens, and one that makes you miss it when it's not filling your ears. Go buy.