Album Review: FTHC by Frank Turner

Frank's best in years I feel like attempting to assess a Frank Turner record with anything closely approximating objectivity would be like trying to convey to my grandma that her homemade sweetmeats simply aren't all that sweet. It'd be terribly ungrateful and disingenuous of me, given I'd gracelessly munch on Frank's savory confectionery any day of the week (what). The chase, swiftly cut towards, is this: a rose-tinted sombrero protects artists such as Frank from receiving anything but my blind, giddy, gushing, gleeful praise.

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Frank Turner has led one of British music's more peculiar careers. In the two decades since his initial hardcore group Million Dead lurched out of the rehearsal room, he's built a dogged fanbase through relentless hard work, endlessly writing and recording, and then touring, touring, touring. Yet he remains difficult to love - certainly from a press perspective, anyway.

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