I love Frank Turner. I have since I heard “Recovery” on the radio for the first time about two years ago. I’ve seen him live three times since then, and he never fails to disappoint. Punk rock with an acoustic guitar, I’d never heard anything like him, at least not in recent memory. And those lyrics…those fucking lyrics. The man is a storyteller, and I’ve also been a sucker for a well-told story in a song (See: Nathanson, Matt.) Turner has easily and quickly become one of my favorite artists, someone who I’m always in the mood to listen to. When he announced a few months ago that he was putting out a book, I knew I had to read it. There was the minor problem that it had no US publisher, but a quick visit to Amazon.co.uk and a couple week wait, and I was set. Was it expensive? Yeah. Was it worth it?
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