Frank Turner Friday: The Sleeping Souls

I decided to use this week's Frank Turner Friday to give a shout out to the Sleeping Souls. They are Frank's awesome backing band. Just watch the following two videos from the Frank Turner's YouTube channel to see for yourself just how great they are and how much fun they all must have together.

(photo from According2G.com)

Frank Turner Friday: Ladies of London Town

This song came on my iPod as I was driving to work the other day and it surprised me that I hadn't heard it before. Alas, this happens sometimes. I have all of the Frank Turner albums in one playlist and I usually just put it on shuffle.

Anyway, I really liked this song. I thought it was incredibly sweet, and it made me wish I was a lady of London, myself. I think we get so used to men describing women as hot, sexy, etc. which are all well and good, but there's something refreshing about hearing a man describe a woman as simply beautiful.

I think I was also captured by the self-deprecating tone Frank takes, as well as the fact that in spite of the makeup and skin, it's the smile that takes his breath away.

Frank Turner - The Ladies Of London Town Found at abmp3 search engine

"Ladies of London Town" by Frank Turner
There's so many beautiful girls in here tonight, 
I can hardly stand it.
Where do they go during the day?
Who the hell do they go home with at the end of the night?
I don't understand it.
They never go home with me.

You dance as if you're hours away from death, 
You're wearing too much make-up and showing too much flesh, 
And you smile a smile to take away my breath, 
Because tonight, and only tonight, you know you're the best.

The ladies of London town
Go flowing through these streets like water
Running little streams down to the river.
They wash the dirty ground, they sweep me off my feet, 
But like an English summer, they'll soon be gone forever.

I've seen you trawling Camden at 4am, 
Outside of the clubnight, 
Deciding whose house will hold a free-for-all.
I've followed you back to mansions and I've met all your friends
Under the streetlights
But I can never recall what you're called.

You dance, you sweat, 
Your glance is met, 
And you hold my gaze a bit, 
And pretend you never did, 
And I'm left standing on my own.

The ladies of London town throw one last glance over their shoulders, 
Blow a kiss, and then they're gone forever.

Frank Turner Friday: Somebody to Love

I know it's late, y'all, but I've had a very busy Friday. Normally I don't work on Fridays, but I rearranged my schedule this week since today was my friend's last day and I wanted to be there. It was her last day because she's finished her Masters and is done! And she's gone ahead and gotten herself a big girl job. I'm  proud of her. I'm going to be really lonely in my cubicle now, though. I have no one to chit chat with, anymore. I'm going to have to start talking to myself again.

So anyway, congrats to everyone who is graduating tonight!

I'm going to be lazy tonight and just post vids - no lyrics - but if you don't know the lyrics to this song I no longer have faith in you, anyway. Frank Turner covering Queen's "Somebody to Love."

Live:


Recorded:

Frank Turner Friday: Sons of Liberty

I love me some celtic sounds, especially when they're mixed with rock/folk music. Dang. Here's the song, listen to it because it has the violin. The video is great because Frank is just an amazing, fun performer, and he plays the violin solo exceptionally on the guitar, but I still prefer the violin in the studio version. Check it.

The studio version:


And the live version:


"Sons of Liberty" - Frank Turner
Once an honest man could go from sunrise to its set
Without encountering agents of his state or government
But a sorry cloud of tyranny has fallen across the land
Brought on by hollow men, who did not understand
That for centuries our forefather have fought and often died
To keep themselves unto themselves, to fight the rising tide
And that if in the smallest battles we surrender to the state
We enter in a darkness whence we never shall escape

When they raise their hands up our lives to possess
To know our souls, to drag us down, we'll resist.

Watt Tyler led the people in 1381
To meet the king at Smithfield and issue this demand:
That Winchester's should be the only law across the land
The law of old King Alfred's time, of free and honest men.
Because the people then they understood what we have since forgot:
That a government will only work for its own benefit
And I'd rather stand up naked against the elements alone
Than give the hollow men the right to enter in my home

When they raise their hands up our lives to possess
To know our souls, to drag us down, we'll resist.

Stand up Sons of Liberty and fight for what you own
Stand up Sons of Liberty and fight, fight for for your homes.

So if ever a man should ask you for your business or your name
Tell him to go and fuck himself, tell his friends to do the same.
Because a man who'd trade his liberty for a safe and dreamless sleep
Doesn't deserve the both of them, and neither shall he keep.

Frank Turner Friday: Reasons Not To Be An Idiot

It's been a while since I've dazzled you with Frank Turner tunes. So today you get a fun one. With a silly video. Enjoy.

Reasons Not To Be An Idiot by Frank Turner

You're not as messed up as you think you are
Your self-absorption makes you messier
Just settle down and you will feel a whole lot better
Deep down you're just like everybody else 

She's not as pretty as she thinks she is
Just picture her after she's had kids
I bet she sits at home and listens to The Smiths
Deep down she's just like everybody else

So why are you sat at home?
You're not designed to be alone
You just got used to saying "no"
So get up and get down and get outside
Cause it's a lovely sunny day
But you hide yourself away
You've only got yourself to blame
Get up and get down and get outside

He's not as clever as he likes to think
He's just ambitious with his arguing
He's crap at dancing, yeah and he can't hold his drink
Deep down he's just like everybody else

I'm not as awesome as this song makes out
I'm angry, underweight and sketching out
I'm building bonfires on my vanities and doubts
To get warm just like everybody else

So why are you sat at home?
You're not designed to be alone
You just got used to saying "no"
So get up and get down and get outside
Cause it's a lovely sunny day
But you hide yourself away
You've only got yourself to blame
Get up and get down and get outside

Amy thinks that life is lacking in drama
So she fell for horoscopes, faith-healing and karma
She's so wrapped up in her invisible armor
She'll never grow into herself
And it's OK thinking me and all my friends are just wasters
But saying that I can still see through her heirs and graces
I bet she's scared her life won't leave any traces
Caught up like everyone else

That's not the point anyway
Oh darling, I felt compelled to call you up to say
So why are you sat at home?
You're not designed to be alone
You just got used to saying "no"
So get up and get down and get outside
Cause it's a lovely sunny day
But you hide yourself away
You've only got yourself to blame

Get up and get down and get outside
Get up and get down and get outside
Get up and get down and get outside
Get up and get down and get outside
Get up and get down and get outside
Get up and get down and get outside

Frank Turner Friday: The Road

from Sarah

So, a week ago I got to see Frank Turner live; he did not disappoint. As I said on Monday, he ended the night with Queen's "Somebody to Love." I was really impressed with how well he and band The Sleeping Souls covered it. Especially the guitar solo; nicely done. Anyway, we (my friend Sarah and I) got to meet him after the show and he was very friendly and pleasant. I have to give him props for managing to stay so down to earth amongst so many drunk people hanging on him.

Me and Frank. Geez, he's tall.

We had positioned ourselves fairly close to the stage and we were up on a step so that we could see over some very large gentlemen up front. Some kids squeezed themselves in front of us and one of them was so close to me that I could see his dandruff inches in front of my face. The back of his head was eclipsing my vision. I told him, "Dude, you're way too tall to be right in front of me," and he graciously moved away and apologized.

from Sarah

Sarah and I had a great time and we were both getting a little crazy. I was pretty much shouting every lyric I knew while jumping up and down, and Sarah was shamelessly dancing to her hearts content. I could tell some of the people around us were a little unnerved by our behavior but I think most people understood we were just having a good time and encouraged it. I mean, that's what going to shows is all about, right?

One of the songs in his set was, "The Road," and it got the everyone in the audience moving. Sarah and I weren't the only ones dancing crazy then. It's one of my favorites. Here it is:

Gold.

"The Road" by Frank Turner
To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out


Ever since my childhood I've been scared I've been afraid
Of being trapped by circumstance and staying in one place
So I always keep a small bag full of clothes carefully stored
Somewhere secret somewhere safe
And somewhere close to the door


Well I've traveled many countries I've washed my feet in many seas
I've drunk with grifters in Vienna and with punks in old dc
And I've driven across deserts driven by the irony
That only being shackled to the the road could ever I be free


To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out


I've felt old before my time but now I keep the age away
By burning up the miles and yeah by filling up my days
And the nights a thousand nights I've played
And a thousand more to go
Before I take a breath and steal myself
For the next one thousand shows


To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out


Yes so saddle up your horses now and keep your powder dry
Cause the truth is you won't be here long
Yeah soon your going to die
To the heart, to the heart there's no time for you to waste
You wont find your precious answers now by staying in one place
Yeah by giving up the chase


To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out
To the south to the south
My time is running out
To the south to the south
My time is running out


I face the horizon everywhere I go
I face the horizon the horizon is my home
I face the horizon everywhere I go
I face the horizon the horizon is my home

Frank Turner Friday: Rivers

I love this song so much. One, it makes me really want to go to England. Two, it does make me appreciate home a little more. Every place has history and character and life, you just have to be open to recognize it.

P.S. The violin is beautiful.

P.P.S. Today is going to be the most magical Frank Turner Friday EVER because I'm going to see him play live tonight. That's right. Be jealous. I'm already geared up with war paint.

Rad? I think so.



"Rivers" by Frank Turner
Our history runs down our rivers
Down our rivers to the sea
Reminds us of the things that matter
Home and hearth and history
All our sins will be forgiven
Washed away to set us free
By the rivers that run through our homesteads
By myth and modal melody

I trace these rivers from the cities to the seas
To remind me what I already know
I trace the shorelines through a thousand estuaries
To remind me an island is my home
An island is my home

I traveled far across this country
Nourthumberland to Southern Downs
I wandered up the rolling Humber
And down the Thames to London town
Countless lives were lived and lingered
In the Cotswolds and the Fells
And left a tapestry called England
Of life and those who lived it well

I trace these rivers from the cities to the seas
To remind me what I already know
I trace the shorelines through a thousand estuaries
To remind me an island is my home
An island is my home

Around here the sky's a little closer
A little closer to the ground
It's hard for someone to get lost here
Harder still to get found
Though I've seen a thousand rivers
From the Mississippi to the Rhine
The only place I'd lay my hat down
Is by an English riverside

I trace these rivers from the cities to the seas
To remind me what I already know
I trace the shorelines through a thousand estuaries
To remind me an island is my home
An island is my home

Place your trust into the sea
It's kept us safe for centuries
It shapes our shore and steadily
It's care has brought us calm
When I die I hope to be
Buried out in English seas
So all that then remains of me
Will lap against these shores
'Til England is no more

Frank Turner Friday: Nashville Tennessee

I love this song. Why, you ask?

1. I'm drawn in by Frank's national pride. Nothing has ever made me wish I was born English more than listening to his passionate lyrics.
2. I find the line, "I'd get them in my band and then my band would get real far," extremely witty and particularly astute because it feels like the way to success has become so formulaic. 
3. I love when musicians take simple or redundant tunes and make them interesting again. For example, the Beatles used the French national anthem in "All You Need is Love," and My Chemical Romance rocked Pachabel's "Canon in D" in "Black Parade." Frank just uses a simple ascending and descending scale and makes it work. I have a lot of respect for that. Also, the bridge keeps me from getting bored, as if I would have anyway.
4. I love authenticity. This is what it looks like: "I know I don't break new ground, many have travelled this sound/But I try to make it sound like home."
5. The last line: "The only thing I'm offering is me." That's all we need, Frank. That's all we need.

By the way, I'm posting two videos this week. (You lucky ducks). You'll understand my reasoning for the second one if you actually read the lyrics. So read the lyrics. The second video is at the bottom, so you have no excuse. Without further ado, heres ya go: 

Nashville Tennessee - Frank Turner

From the heart of the Southern Downs, to the North-East London reservoirs,
From the start, the land scaped my sound, before I'd ever been to America.


And if I knew anybody who played pedal steel guitar,
I'd get them in my band and then my band would get real far,
But I was raised in middle England, and not in Nashville Tennessee,
And the only person in my band is me.


A simple scale on an old guitar, and a punk rock sense of honesty.
I cannot fail, I've got this far with no knowledge of mid-west geography.


And if I knew anywhere where I could drive in a straight line
For hours in the desert, I'd drive for hours at a time.
But I was raised in middle England, not in Nashville Tennessee,
And the only person in this car is me.


And yes I'm in four-four time, and yes I use cheap cheap rhymes,
But I try to make a sound my own.
I know I don't break new ground, many have travelled this sound,
But I try to make it sound like home.


Well I've been to Texas state, I didn't think it was that fucking great,
And Nebraska is just a bunch of songs,
Holloway and Hampshire where I belong.
And I don't know anybody who plays pedal steel guitar,
All the city roads are twisted and I do not own a car.
I was raised in middle England, not in Nashville Tennessee,
And the only thing I'm offering is me.

Frank Turner Friday: Try This At Home

Try This At Home - Frank Turner
Let's inherit the earth, cause no one else is taking it,
Come on do your worst, before the moment's gone.
I'n bedrooms across England, and all the Western world,
There's posters and there's magazines,
The music isn't ours.

Cause we write love songs in E,
And we do politics in G
We sing songs about our friends in E minor.
So turn out the stars now and take up your guitar,
And come on folks and try this at home.

Let's stop waiting around, for someone to patronise us,
Let?s hammer out a sound that speaks of where we?ve been.
Forget about the haircuts, the stupid skinny jeans,
the stampedes and the irony, the media-fed scenes

Cause we write love songs in E,
And we do politics in G
We sing songs about our friends in E minor.
So turn out the stars now and take up your guitar,
And come on folks and try this at home.

Because the only thing that punk rock should ever really mean
is not sitting round and waiting for the lights to go green,
and not thinking that you?re better because you?re stood up on a stage.
If you?re oh so fucking different then who cares what you have to say?

And there?s no such thing as rock stars, there?s just people who play music,
and some of them are just like us, and some of them are dicks.
So quick, turn off your stereo, pick up that pen and paper,
you could do much better than some half-arsed skinny English country singer 

Frank Turner Friday: I Am Disappeared

I Am Disappeared - Frank Turner
I keep having dreams
Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan
Of people wrapped up tight in the things that will kill them
Of being trapped in a lift plunging straight to the bottom
Of open seas and ways of life we've forgotten
I keep having dreams

Amy worked in a bar in Exeter
I went back to her house and I slept beside her
She woke up screaming in the middle of the night
Terrified of her own insides
Dreams of pirate ships and Patty Hearst
Breaking through a life over rehearsed
She can't remember which came first
The house, the home or the terrible thirst
She keeps having dreams

And on the worst days
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes
She's got her cowboy boots and car keys on the bed stand
So she can always run
She can get up, shower and in half an hour she'd be gone

I keep having dreams of things I need to do
Of waking up and not following through
But it feels like I haven't slept at all
When I wake to a silence and she's facing the wall
Posters of Dylan and of Hemingway
An antique compass for a sailor's escape
She says you just can't live this way
And I close my eyes and I never say
I'm still having dreams

And on the worst days
When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tons
I sleep with my passport
One eye on the back door
So I can always run
I can get up, shower and in half an hour I'd be gone

And come morning
I am disappeared
Just an imprint
On the bed sheets

And by the roadside
With my thumb out
A car pulls up
And Bob's driving
And so I climb in
We don't say a word
As we pull off
Into the sunrise
And these rivers
Of tarmac
Are like arteries
Course the country
We are blood cells
Alive in
The blood stream
And beating heart of the country
We are electric
Pulses
In pathways
Of the sleeping soul of the country
We are electric
Pulses
In the pathway
Of the sleeping soul of the country
(We are electric)
The sleeping sould of the country

Frank Turner Friday: Wessex Boy

So, I totally had a tasty Tuesday planned, and then I couldn't find the recipe on my hard drive. I must have deleted it. I promise to get another copy from my grandmother and post it next week.

Today, though, is Frank Turner Friday! So I present to you "Wessex Boy." I just love Frank Turner. And does he remind anyone else of Chris O'Dowd (from IT Crowd and Bridesmaids) or is it just me?



Wessex Boy
Let me tell you all a little story of the things I’ve found,
Hanging out and drinking with my friends in the cathedral grounds,
And later dodging drunks as we dance along Jewry street,
As we wander uptown to the Railway, our friends to meet.

There’s something about coming back to your hometown again,
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends.
And though none of them still live here, and I’ve got nowhere to go,
I’m a Wessex boy, and when I’m here I’m home.

Let me tell you all a little story of the things I’ve lost,
Huddling for warmth on the top step of the Buttercross,
Or sitting on the benches by the bridges at the riverside,
Counting down the hours for the buses cause I missed my ride.

There’s something about coming back to your hometown again,
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends.
And though none of them still live here, and I’ve got nowhere to go,
I’m a Wessex boy, a Wessex boy and when I’m here I’m home.

And one day I will hear this song, anonymous and sweet,
Ringing our from a busker’s guitar on the ancient city streets.
I’ll pause a while and smile before I continue on alone,
And somebody else will sing the words, and I’ll feel like I’m home.

There’s something about hometowns that you never can escape,
The triumphs and the tragedies, the tawdry little fates,
The welling of nostalgia, the feeling kind of strange,
Because despite all of the little changes, the place still feels the same.
But then there’s something about coming back to your hometown again,
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends.
And though none of them still live here, and I’ve got nowhere to go,
I’m a Wessex boy, I’m a Wessex boy, and when I’m here I’m home.

Frank Turner Friday: Peggy Sang the Blues (on Jimmy Kimmel)

Hey! Everyone! Listen up! Frank was on Jimmy Kimmel the other night. I  was up in my kitchen doing homework. All of a sudden I heard Frank. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from and then I realized I had left my TV on in my basement. I ran down and there he was on Kimmel! It made me really giddy. So, instead of a the song I originally picked for today, here's a clip from Jimmy Kimmel.

Peggy Sang the Blues:

 

Frank Turner Friday: One Foot Before the Other

Today's Frank Turner song is "One Foot Before the Other." It's a little more rock than his typical folksy stuff.




One Foot Before the Other
On the very day I die
The very last of my desires
Is that you take my broken body
And commit it to the fire

And then when the fire is finished
Scrape the ashes in a tin
Take them down to London’s drinking reservoirs
And throw them in

And then specks infinitesimal of my mortal remains
Will slide down 7 million throats and into 7 million veins
And I will creep through their capillaries to the marrow of their bones
And they will wake to bright new mornings and then wordlessly they’ll know

That I remain
I am remembered
I remain
I am remembered

So these 7 million innocents
They will have me in their blood
And when they die they’ll burn their bodies
Or be buried in the mud
And I will spread through streams and rivers like a virus through a host
From the hamlets to the cities from the rivers to the coast
And from there into the channel across the great Atlantic Ocean
And ever onwards to the new world
Through the waters gentle motions
Until parts of me are part of every land mass every sea
In the rain, up on your crops and in the very air you breath

I remain
I am remembered
I remain
I am remembered
I remain

And all the things I love will be washed away in the rain
I remain

I’m not convinced of the existence of these things that don’t exist
Yeah by Jewish boys with big ideas and scratches on their wrist
By a loving or a vengeful God
Or one who condescends
Who’ll wash his hands down in the mire among the misery of men
Or by ever turning circles hanging timeless in the sky
Like a dream catcher distracting from the fact you’re gonna die

But I place one foot before the other
Confident because
I know that everything we are right now is everything that was
That Watt Tyler, Woody, Guthrie, Dostoevsky and Davy Jones
Are all dissolved into the ether and have crept into my bones
And all the cells in all the lines upon the backs of both my hands
Were once carved into the details of two feet upon the sand

We remain
We are remembered
We remain
We are remembered
We remain

And all the things we love
Will be washed away in the rain
We remain

Frank Turner Friday: Sailor's Boots

I'm sorry for the delinquency today, it's been a busy one. I chose "Sailor's Boots" for this week's Frank Turner Friday because it reminds me of an Irish ballad. It's lovely. It is the b-side for his song "If I Ever Stray," which is another favorite of mine but is a little too upbeat for my current mood. Maybe I'll post it next week. If there isn't another one that I feeling more inclined towards. According to Frank's website, this song used to be titled "Rod Stewart." As I have only recently discovered Frank, I will only ever know it as "Sailor's Boots."



Sailor's Boots
If I had been born 200 years ago
I would have been a sailor, a-sailing I would go
I'd sail around the capes, across the seven seas and then back home
If I had been born 200 years ago

And I would know the waters and the waters would know me
I would cut across the waves and be as happy as can be
I'd be landless, I'd be loveless, I'd be flight and fancy free
And would know the waters and the waters would know me

And when I think about the place and time were I was born
Well, I wonder if the hands of fate have slipped and placed me wrong
'Cause there are ships I could have sailed and sailor's boots I could've worn
When I think about the place and time were I was born

But the ocean is still out there magnificent and wide
With open arms to hold me, and endless space to hide,
And the only things that hold me back are things I hold inside
The ocean is still out there magnificent and wide

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
A-sailing I should go

Frank Turner Friday: Substitute

Recently, I discovered Frank Turner whilst listening to Pandora. I've yet to hear a song I've disliked. Sure, there are a few I don't like quite as much as others, but you'll get that with any artist. So, in paying homage to his multitude of great music, I will be posting a song or video every Friday until I run out of favorites. After that, who knows?

Substitute

frank turner - substitute songs
MP3 download

The first girl that I fell for was a fair and faithful fighter
She smouldered with a will to save the world
I did my best to help her, yeah I stood shoulder to shoulder
On the front lines with my visionary girl

I wish that she had cared for me
But in the end her ideologies
Occupied the fortress of her heart
I wrote her 15 songs, but still we had to part

And if music was the food of love
Then I'd be a fat romantic slob
Well music, it's my substitute for love

The last girl that I loved she was a low and lusty liar
She set my heart on fire, but made me choke
Her beauty was a sight to see, but she didn't save it all for me
I found other fires by following the smoke

I wish that she had either cared for me or
let be me
But she chased me from mind and from my home
I wrote her 16 songs, but I ended up alone

And if love is really all that we need
Then even all my singing is never gonna save me
Music it's my substitute for love

Well I've had many different girls inside my bed
But only one or two inside my head
These days I cuddle up to my guitar instead
But oh, what I would give, not to stumble but to really fall in love
And I could substitute my singing for the sound of someone sleeping next to me