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13.04.12 MusicWeek 17


veteran hero of the independent community, feel any internal conflict? “I’ve never - at least not since I became an


intelligent adult - had any unbreakable hard-and- fast opinions about indies versus majors,” he replies. “For a start the difference between the likes of Domino and Warner these days is increasingly closing, certainly in terms of the profile that their artists achieve. “Also, there’s something fundamentally not right


about all of that indie purism. It’s not as if Bob Dylan has ever been on an indie label, or Bruce Springsteen. There are plenty of examples of interesting, integral, artistic and wildly successful bands on major labels.” Turner clarifies that so long as it continues to


exist, he sees no era in which he won’t be putting out records on Xtra Mile, but that a “joint venture type of thing” with a major may be a possibility. “There is no way in hell that I would have been


able to get where I am today if I’d signed with a major label from the beginning – they’re not particularly good at developing artists who aren’t pop acts,” he adds. “That said, now I’m in a position where I don’t


have to compromise. I owe nobody any apologies. Never at any point in my career have I been A&R’d. The idea of having a suit with me in the studio is kind of laughable. “I’m an ambitious person and I want to be


successful. I love the indie community to a degree, but at the same time I’ve been fucked over by indie labels and I know other bands who’ve been screwed by them left, right and centre. It’s not like it’s the good guys versus the bad guys – it’s infinitely more complex than that.” If Turner sounds more industry-savvy than your


average melody-making minstrel, it’s because he’s read up. An avid consumer of economics books and blogs, he tackles Music Week’s posers armed with expert trade terminology - from “cross-recoupable” to “mechanical royalties” - that would strike dumb even the most avaricious label shyster. The catalyst for Turner’s commercial smarts, he


acknowledges, may involve proving something to his father – a City banker who previously doubted the professional credentials of his offspring’s chosen career, and whose personal indiscretions have been painfully painted in song. “This industry is my trade and I pride myself on


learning the mechanics of it,” Turner explains. “I actually slightly despair when I see younger bands coming through who have no idea. I long ago stopped thinking about it as being, ‘Yeah man, you just play your three chords and the truth and that’s it.’” Timeworn punk class warriors might snarkily


blame his bourgeoisie background for this shrewd industrialist streak - but no-one could accuse Turner of being gifted anything on a platter. He’s played over 1,180 shouty, sweaty shows


across the world in the past six years - including 205 in 2010 alone. Bear in mind that the average UK employee


spends just 240 days 9-to-5’ing it per annum (usually in the same comfy office, not Dan’s Basement in Pittsburgh followed by a rickety flight to The Flying M Coffee Garage in Nampa) and Turner’s knackering work ethic is put into stark perspective. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t own a house to call home.


“I grew up watching hardcore shows at The


Swan in Tottenham,” he reasons. “It pissed me off that we’d have British bands like Knuckledust, then American groups like Walls of Jericho or Botch would show up and wipe the fucking floor with them. “It wasn’t some inherent thing in American


DNA – it was because you have to tour your arse off to achieve anything in the US. The American bands were playing 200 shows in a year, the English bands were playing 10.


ABOVE Band and deliver: Turner and his backing group, The Sleeping Souls


He adds: “Of course I get tired and grumpy, but


as a whole experience touring is great. I love being in a different place every day, I love meeting new people and I love the fact I’m playing music for a living: it’s a fucking enormous privilege. The last full-time job I had before doing this was telesales. I was genuinely selling phones over the phone. If I ever have a shit day, I just think about that.” Our chat turns towards the Willy Wonka


dream-ticket of working within this industry - and to floundering muso mates who, given half the chance, might thrive within its all-too-exclusive walls. “Contrary to a lot of popular mythology, I do


believe that most people in this industry have a core of absolute passion about music,” he says. “Unfortunately there are some who don’t - that breed who get a job in A&R between going to university and working for dad’s bank. It’s like: ‘Why are you here if you don’t care?’ “They are the sort of shit-heads who just have a


chart music collection and a Moloko album at home. The absolute alarm bell for me is Moby's Play: sorry, but if that’s on top of your CD player, you do not give a fuck about music.” There it is again: the hard-etched disdain still


remnant from when “this angry adolescent found an outlet for his hate” in hardcore’s snarl; back when Turner wore a homemade T-shirt that said ‘SHITPOP’, just to needle his Blur and Oasis- worshipping schoolmates. This is the rowdy side of Frank Turner; the


vexed, visceral ire that will turn the heads and no doubt raise the arms at Wembley on Friday. But now he’s reached 30 and those major labels


have come a-knocking, could the mellow, mature Turner responsible for pretty, delicate recent efforts like Sailor’s Boots and Rivers ever completely muffle the petulant punk inside? “The fact is, I learned to sing in a small rehearsal


room with everything turned up to 11 and my vocals going through a shit guitar amp,” he replies. Turner remembers one particularly indicative early


solo show in Portland, Oregon: “It was in a pizzeria, so I played the most restrained, relaxed, downbeat country music I possibly could. After my set, I walked into the restaurant and pricked up my ears. “As I listened, I heard someone say: ‘I liked the angry guy. I want to hear the angry guy again.’”


YOU’VE GOT A TREND A PLACE IN THE SCHEME OF THINGS


Frank Turner is happy to refer to his genre of music as “English country” – but his anomalous ferocity amongst a modern trend for mild-mannered folk singer/songwriters isn’t lost on him. He jokes that he’s waiting for the day “a critic suggests I’ve snuck up on Ed Sheeran’s coattails”. “One of my favorite bands of all time


was Jesus Lizard,” he adds. “Aside from being utterly awesome, one of the things I always loved about them is that they weren't part of a scene. They just kind of arrived, fucked with everybody for 10 years and then fucked off again. “I know Laura Marling (right) and I


vaguely know some of the Mumford guys but I’m not in that fucking [nu-folk] bracket and never have been. To be honest there were times when I kind of wanted to be – but now that I’ve got here, I can fucking live without it.”


“I’m not in that fucking [nu-folk] bracket and never have been. To be honest there were times


when I wanted to be – but now that I’ve got here, I can fucking live without it” FRANK TURNER


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