Stuck in the snow on a Friday night? Freezing your bollocks off as the Siberian winds blow you every which way but loose? Well, you could do a lot worse than to haul your tush down to the appropriately named 53 Degrees for ninety minutes of fun, frolics and folk with Frank Turner and friends; traditionally, the ex-Million Dead front man's shows feel more like celebrations than performances, a singalong-fuelled jamboree with just the right level of camaraderie to leave you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. This is a guy devoid of pretension, whose down-to-earth outlook and surprising level of sincerity is wonderfully refreshing. Frank is still humble enough to be amazed that he can attract this much attention, that his songs can say so much to so many.
Of course, he shouldn't be so surprised: his lyrics have a purity and honesty that make them universal. Turner is the king of the arms-around-mates singalong and tonight, he has Preston eating out of the palm of his hand. The crowd take a little time to wake up, proving quietly appreciate for the first few tracks, but by the time the brilliantly succinct call-to-creative-arms that is 'Try This At Home' rears its head, they're pogoing and dancing along, bellowing the words at the tops of their voices. This is a hit-heavy set, taking in the daft, yet undeniably infectious, 'The Road', a sprightly 'Reasons Not To Be An Idiot', a particularly emotional 'Long Live the Queen' and, naturally, 'Photosynthesis', which is given the conventional special guest treatment as support acts Ed Harcourt, the sharpest dressed man in the room, and Jamie Stuart, singer with Dive Dive, the most attractive man in the room, join in the fun, contributing mandocaster and acoustic guitar parts accordingly.
It's a great end to proceedings, bringing the restless vibrancy that Frank exhibits throughout the rest of the set - he's racing guitarist Ben Lloyd across the stage, he's climbing Nigel's drumkit while playing the 'Sons of Liberty' solo - to a head as he drops his acoustic, picks up his mic and heads straight into the crowd, letting his audience take over. And yet, for all this energy makes for fantastic viewing, it's the quieter moments that are the most memorable. It almost goes without saying, but the solo 'The Ballad of Me and My Friends' is just gorgeous, while 'Worse Things Happen At Sea' is brilliantly invective, full of anger and resentment, and a pleasantly surprising version of The Postal Service's 'The District Sleeps Alone Tonight', played because an audience member requested it, is probably the highlight of the evening: delicate, charming and beautiful.
There are new songs, five to be exact, of which current single 'I Still Believe' is the most immediate, featuring a massive chorus and the kind of heartwarming sentiment that just endears us to Frank even more, while 'If Ever I Stray' probably has the biggest staying power, marrying an epic sound - crashing drums, extra loud guitars - with a brilliant, brilliant lyric. The only criticism to be made is that the set is perhaps a little predictable in places. For the wizened Turner veterans, choices such as 'Imperfect Tense', 'Father's Day' and 'Substitute' seem a little disappointing when the back catalogue is packed with long-last classics (hell, we've seen these choices a hundred times before) but then, it works. At the end of the day, Frank's performance is still flawless and 1,000 or so patrons still walk away having had the time of their lives.
On the slow walk back to the train station, a group of lads are bellowing the words to 'Love, Ire and Song' to all and sundry, without a care in the world... and that, my friends, is proof positive that this was a job well done.
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