Frankie is back, lads, and let us raise a pint for this folk rocker turned punk madman. Enter the heaviness of
FTHC, named after GTA IV. Frank has often been called soft, wimpy, lame, boring, Irish, and many other derogatory labels by the press at large. Now he's giving them all a metaphorical middle finger, and perhaps even a literal one. This music is angry enough that I find myself giving middle fingers while listening to it, even if no one is around to receive the "f
uck you." Sometimes I lift to this album at the gym and a poor, undeserving nerd receives my middle finger. Fortunately, I avoid confrontation because this album puts me in beast mode. Anyone who knows me knows you don't mess with me in beast mode, and I am always in beast mode when I listen to this album, even if I'm not working out in the gym flipping off nerds. Beast mode is beast mode, and those who have been in beast mode know I'm serious when I say buy this album. Simple anger for anger's sake is often strangely cathartic, and Frank Turner understand this like Rick Sanchez understands time travel. That's a pretty high level of understanding and listening to this album can help us understand many things as well, beyond beast mode.
Frank plugs in his guitar and turns it up to 11 on this album. He enlists the help of various other rockers known for their powerful playing, like Jason Isbell. These two go together like peanut butter and pickles on a sandwich, and if you haven't tried that, you should, because it tastes epic, much like this album. Jason Isbell's guitar and Frank Turner's Irish crooning is like a beast mode sandwich.
Frank dishes out truths on this album like he's on the TV game show
The Moment of Truth, and the audience is shocked at the truths being dished. Frank dishes truth on subjects like COVID, Trump, Biden, Brexit, and many other political things, bringing to mind old punk bands like Minor Threat and Dead Kennedys. A friend of mine listened to this album and said Frank Turner is like if you combined Van Morrison and Jello Biafra into one giant person. I had to agree that that combo of people would definitely record an album like this.
While you were probably watching the Super Bowl, Frank Turner was writing the best punk album this old punk rocker has heard since the last Offspring album. I bet Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson, Tony Blair, Ben Elton, and other UK fascists would crap their pants if they heard the truths laid down in this awesome album. Listening to this album, it's clear that Ireland should be given her independence. It has given us fine whiskey, beautiful lasses, and great punk. I hope the Irish get to vote on independence soon and I know Frank Turner will be first in line to rip a beastly fart in the Queen's face.
