Frank Turner // Southampton Guildhall, 2019 – Imy Brighty-Potts
The first time I listened to Tape Deck Heart by Frank Turner cover to cover was laid on my floor, age 14, in the dark, on gritty green carpet. I had tried to get tickets to his gigs before in my seven years of fanship, but I was either too young or too alone and never thought you could go to a gig alone. Well, you can, and I did.
It was a wet Monday night, I was in my feelings already and the show just plunged me further into that beautiful melancholia. The set was split perfectly. He played his newest tracks from No Man’s Land, a homage to the most impressive, powerful and unsung women in music and social history. The second half was the hits, but since we were all seated, it was basically an hour of sitting and hysterically crying as a room full of devoted fans sang words that I thought only made sense to me. It was all-consuming and his voice, grizzly and rich filled every corner of that massive room. He was home; his mum in the crowd, fans looking on in seated adoration and we were home too, in a hall of people who felt like they had a purpose for just a second.