Frank Turner – ‘Undefeated’ album review: an unashamed moment of acceptance with mixed results
THE SKINNY: On his tenth solo album, Undefeated, it makes sense that Frank Turner is as unapologetic as ever. The record’s title aptly conveys the general essence of the body of work, as the songwriter accepts being in his forties and that his road-worn efforts aren’t for everyone. He knows his place in the world. It’s always been about his music and the punk spirit, so earthly matters such as appealing to everyone do not come into the picture. Naturally, though, this outlook comes with its negatives and positives.
“I’m still standing up / and there’s nothing you can do”, Turner pipes during the anthemic chorus of the fitting opener ‘Do One’, with the song acting as a mission statement for what’s to come across the following 13 tracks. A convergence of his life on the road, his many different influences ranging from Black Flag and The Pogues to Elvis Costello and, regretfully, Counting Crows, with conversations between the 42-year-old and his 15-year-old self cropping up. For many longtime fans of the English bard, this will be yet another welcome addition to his oeuvre.
As the album is so extensive, Turner enthusiastically crosses many different sonic realms, delving back into his long history to bring a work to life that ranks among his most affecting at points, filled with as much candour as his wry humour. While his fans will receive it and the broader sentiment well, criticisms can still be directed at it, especially when critiquing it from outside the musician’s evident context.
Objectively, the record is far too long, with the length undoing the strength of some of its highlights, as some other songs veer too far into cheesiness. Yes, it will translate well in the live setting, and Turner’s conviction is admirable. However, several moments are too immature and even inane, such as ‘Girl From The Record Shop’, which you can’t get away from, regardless of the evident irony.
All in all, Frank Turner continues pushing on. Undefeated might be a mixed bag, with the highlights exemplary and the pitfalls forgettable, but the songwriter remains firmly on his path.
For fans of: Punk IPA, Crouch End, and saggy beanies.
A concluding comment from my itinerant local punk: “Frank Turner’s not punk, and I’m telling everyone!”
Undefeated track by track:
Release Date: May 3rd | Producer: Frank Turner | Label: Xtra Mile Recordings
‘Do One’: A resounding anthem that distils the essence of the album in both its strengths and pitfalls, the “do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do” of the chorus drives itself deep into the brain even if you don’t want it to, with the convergence of Turner’s vocals, the punchy guitars and no-nonsense beat creating what will go down as one of his definitive tunes. It might be a touch cheesy, but it’s certainly fun. [3/5]
‘Never Mind The Back Problems’: A Pogues-esque freak-out, this short number is a frenetic jaunt from start to finish that will get even the most ardent misanthropes moving. [4/5]
‘Ceasefire’: Even by just the third track, Turner has covered a series of different bases. A more cerebral number wherein he directly addresses “15-year-old Francis” and mentions the influence of the man himself, Richard Ashcroft. Backed by a wistful rhythm and keyboard melody, Turner wrestles with himself and outlines that although he isn’t the man his teenage self would have imagined, the two warring selves should put their issues aside and let bygones be bygones. [3.5/5]
‘Girl From The Record Shop’: Regardless of its comedic undertones, this is one of the worst tracks on the record. From the late-1990s-esque riff to the lyrical motif of the title, it’s annoying. With that said, if this was released at the time that Turner harks back to with the words, it would have likely been a chart success. [1/5]
‘Pandemic PTSD’: Another upbeat piece of folk-punk, in it, Turner reflects on the pandemic’s effect on the world. One of his vintage anthems, the music is infectious, and his lyrics are so universal that they will resonate with almost everyone. A fun rendering of the hard times of the past few years, it’s a bold way of relinquishing trauma. I’m not a fan of the chorus lyrics, but Turner’s sentiment and the theatrical dynamics of the song provide enough to see past it. [3/5]
‘Letters’: This is another moment that is a little too vanilla and stadium rock-oriented. From the introductory riff and piano melody to the vocalist’s opening line – “We used to write each other letters / such beautiful letters” – and the verse’s Muse-esque bassline, which we heard in various forms in the mid-2000s, there’s enough here to make you want to forget. Sometimes, artists can be too sincere. [2/5]
‘East Finchley’: A downbeat number that whisks the listener back to the summer of 1997, once again, Turner pierces with his honest recollections of a well-lived life. Astutely toeing the line between total sincerity and grit, the country-evoking acoustic, 3/4 beat, and the exquisite backing vocals introduced in the second half make for a memorable listening experience. It exhibits the artistic scope Turner has encompassed over the years. [3.5/5]
‘No Thank You For The Music’: A return to the upbeat cheese of earlier numbers, in it, Turner openly states that he’s returned to being an angry man now that he’s in his 40s. An anthem for people of his age, it will likely be misunderstood by those who weren’t around when Idlewild, My Vitriol and Hundred Reasons were at their pomp. It’s good fun and dynamic enough, but some will undoubtedly take it at face value, despite its fairly obvious and more general meaning about owning being an outlier due to a dedication to a subculture. This is Turner’s slant on punk typified. [4/5]
‘The Leaders’: We might have heard the chord progression and rhythm of this one in the past, but the upbeat angle of the song and the lyrics imploring us to stand up for ourselves are commendable, particularly in light of its ephemeral run time. [3.5/5]
‘International Hide and Seek Champions’: By this juncture, the idea of us jumping headfirst into the mire is starting to wear a touch thin, as is the raucous folk-punk heard in comparable and indistinct guises before this stop. The lyrics are woeful at the end, as Turner melismatically sings the song’s title. [2.5/5]
‘Show People’: I’m starting to lose concentration here, with the vocal melody and music blurring even more with those we’ve heard earlier on Undefeated. While the lyrical playfulness is one facet of worth, broadly speaking, it’s pretty forgettable and is a type of rock ballad that we’ve heard countless times across the timeline of music. [1.5/5]
‘On My Way’: A one-man acoustic effort, this frank conception exhibits the force of Turner as a singular entity, with all the ornamentation stripped back. Of course, it will be too pitiful and Damien Rice-evoking for some, but it would feel cruel to rip into this one too much. It would be like laughing at someone for pouring their heart out. For an artist to do so in such a way is admirable in a modern world angled towards heartless one-hit wonders. [2.5/5]
‘Somewhere Inbetween’: The penultimate offering once more compares Turner now and his 15-year-old self, as well as the personal issues that have plagued him on his metamorphosis to his present guise. A regretful track comprised of droning guitars, resounding piano chords and a gradually cathartic vocal performance, which all build towards a full-bodied climax, it’s interesting that he placed such a number as the second to last stop. [3/5]
‘Undefeated’: An artful piece led by jazz-inflected piano, the title track ties together all the thematic strands of the record, with Turner once again reverting to flecks of bombastic rock opera as he and the other characters of this psychodrama accept being independent and undefeated. His vocals and the music here are brilliant, and when he really goes for it in the finale, you’ll be blown away. [4.5/5]
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