It's an interesting time to be Frank Turner – his stock has never been higher, but neither has it ever been under such scrutiny. New album No Man's Land, in a fanfare of publicity which quickly turned to ever-souring debate, seeks to shine a spotlight on prominent women from history whose stories, in Turner's own words, "should have been told already".
Fine, and a noble sentiment, but the elephant in the room which has been spotted by apparently everyone but the man whose name adorns the cover trumpets that just because Turner hasn't heard them doesn't mean they haven't been told. And regardless, should he be the man – emphasis on that last word – to tell them?
Credit where credit's due and all, the female presence on the record is strong – Catherine Marks produced it, and the cast of backing musicians are all women – but having digested the background (and foreground, it feels like the main selling point) to this concept record it is hard to really get on board. And it doesn't help that the music itself largely falls a little flat with songs like 'Rescue Annie' and 'Nica' lacking any real substance. That said, Turner's sonic footprint is instantly recognisable and it is almost impossible to imagine a record of his stacked wall-to-wall with stinkers so it's no surprise that we're also party to some real treats; 'Sister Rosetta' is Turner on sparkling radio-folk-rock form while 'The Death of Dora Hand' is a carefree folk stroll straight out of the earlier half of Turner's career.
But every song, good or bad, comes with the caveat of the concept behind it, which Turner has openly defended in a blog post on his website. That he was prepared to do so shows he has listened to his critics and points to a certain steely resolve to stick to his guns, but it's never a good sign when an artist has to stick up for the very fabric of an album, and following a renewed interrogation of his background and politics things are currently not going to plan for a man who graced the stage at the London 2012 opening ceremony.
His notoriously gruelling live presence (2379 shows in 15 years at the time of writing) means he's always up to something, rattling off sweat-slicked gigs at a rate of almost one every other day for a decade and a half. And maybe for the first time that's starting to catch up with him in the studio, too. No Man's Land looks set to be buried in the place from which it takes its name, and sadly it might be in everyone's best interests if we all reach for a shovel.
Words - Joe Ponting
Frank Turner official
