Frank Turner reinvigorates himself in the wake of Million Dead

Frank Turner
with Flogging Molly and Architects. $25, Feb. 25, Webster Theater, 31 Webster St., Hartford, (860) 525-5553, webstertheater.com

September 2005 was an important period for Frank Turner. In that month, Million Dead, the London-based post-hardcore/punk band Turner fronted, wrapped their career up in a snap. On the 12th, they announced their break-up, citing the coy and cliché "irreconcilable differences." A dozen days later, the quartet completed their final shows, leaving a succinct online goodbye that closed, "We had a great four years of it. Cheers."

In spite of finding success on their native continent, Million Dead didn't issue any albums or tour in the U.S., severely limiting their international exposure. American listeners fond of the intelligent venom spit by Bad Religion and Propagandhi might have adored the group. "We didn't really get a chance to try [expanding our fan base]. That was a shame," says Turner.

Yet, before the dissolution went public, he was already preparing an alternative. Dying to escape creative headaches, the musician turned to uncomplicated troubadour-on-guitar folk. "There's value in the collective and bands can often be greater than the sum of their parts and all that," he says, "but having been in a hugely dysfunctional band where we were barely talking to each other by the time we broke up put me off being in a band in general."

Aside from the remnants of internal strife (Turner once called Million Dead "hyper-self-critical"), the singer has other things keeping him from the previous format. Writing in his old band was arduously slow because of their "radically egalitarian" dynamic. He misses having an artistic counterpoint around, but the benefits of seeing a song materialize faster makes up for it.

Unlike Million Dead's dense, roiled rock, Turner's fervent folk falls between radiant and raw, touching on the same tone as Born to Run-era Bruce Springsteen.

Even larger than his alterations made on the sonic side are those on the lyrical end. In past guise, he focused on constructing impressively erudite metaphors and screeds. (The memorable "Charlie and the Propaganda Myth Machine" dismantled the politics of Roald Dahl's best-known work with observations like "Willy Wonka was a capitalist confidence trickster/A poster boy for neo-liberalism/A full-stop on revolt.") Today, Turner eschews that approach for a streamlined storytelling style suited to his new genre. "The knack to great lyric writing is taking something small and specific but relating it in a large and universal way," he says. For this reason, he cribs from real life ("I'm crap at fiction"), keeping songs thin on details and heavy on poignant moments. "If I write a line and it makes me wince, I deliberately keep it in because I know it hit a nerve."

Quickly settling into his solo persona, the guitarist has been prolific. His inaugural record came out in January 2007 with Poetry of the Deed, his third, coming from Epitaph Records last September. The latter even had him recording with a band again, albeit a backing one with no formal name. There have been various developments since he went off by himself, like his "eating meat again and [quitting] drugs," but nothing shows off his fresh self better than his insatiable desire to tread ground. Unlike Million Dead, Turner's performed in the States; after years of doing so, he's nearly covered every inch. "I find it easier to tour as time goes by. I'm so used to it. Staying home for a few weeks over Christmas nearly killed me," he says, adding with a laugh, "I've rewired my brain."

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