Over the past three years or so, I’ve seen ex-Million Dead man Frank Turner play live a lot. In fact I’ve seen him play, ooh, at ten gigs including tonight, with only two being non-headline appearances. Each time the venue has increased slightly in size but there’s always been the feeling that, if there was any justice in the world of music, the man on stage sweating and screaming about love, friends and the adventures to be had of life would be doing all of this on a bigger stage, and to more than the handful of familiar faces and their mates. Tonight, at last, that potential became a reality.

Back in June 2006, at gig number one, my brother and I found ourselves in the sauna-like box room of a Newcastle pub called the Dog And Parrot, with under a hundred other people sitting on the floor in a vague attempt to avoid the moisture in the air and to let everyone have an equal chance at seeing the tiny stage. There was a peculiar mixture of the easy atmosphere which usually comes with watching a mate’s band playing with a reverential attention, as everyone attending listened intently to the words they didn’t know, and sang back the ones they did as if they had been plucked out of their own heads.

Fast forward to Newcastle’s University, October 2009, and mercifully little has actually changed. Yes the venue is comparatively cavernous, and the beer is extortionately expensive, but the masses of new faces in the crowd are just as eager, and the man on stage with an acoustic guitar and punk spirit, still manages to connect with each and every one of them.

After spirited support by the hypnotically chaotic Beans On Toast (who’s now added rapping with an accordion to his skill set), and the gravel throated roar of Fake Problems, Frank Turner hit the stage with an instrument by instrument build up intro to Live Fast, Die Old. More of an overt rock song than a lot of the rest of his catalogue, track one of the recent Poetry Of The Deed album did provide an indication of the shape of the rest of the show. The show marked the biggest solo show of Turner’s career (until the next day at Manchester), and it was time to celebrate.

A well balanced set-list successfully mixed some of the most anthemic of Turner’s back catalogue with the more upbeat songs from Poetry Of The Deed, ensuring the mood remained at a near constant, beer fuelled, sing-along party, with only a too up-tempo reworking of last year’s seminal single Long Live The Queen feeling slightly out of place.

Love, Ire And Song, Fathers Day, Worse Things Happen at Sea and latest single The Road all provided mass sing-alongs, and as usual all paled in the face of collective performances of The Real Damage and The Ballad Of Me And My Friends which brought the huge crowd and Frank Turner together as one voice for a few incredible minutes which prove why the man’s shows are always so special.

The highlights of the show though were easily the unexpected nods towards the past. First up was one of the oldest songs, Nashville Tennessee, which spotlighted Frank’s recent increase in fan-base well as not nearly as many people knew the words than they did to the newer tracks. More impressively though was a beautifully understated rendition of Million Dead’s first single, Smiling At Strangers On Trains. Preceded by a reminiscence that the last time Frank played the venue was with MD, the rarely played adaptation of Smiling received a rapturous reception by those who knew it and knew that they were witnessing a treat, a special thank you from the man on stage for helping him get where he is without much more support than from that of his fans.

Ending proceedings with Photosynthesis, complete with Beans On Toast and members of Fake Problems playing along, Frank launched himself into the crowd with a cry of “I won’t sit down / and I won’t shut up / and most of all I will not grow up”, leaving all those in attendance thankful for the sentiments and the conviction behind them, and knowing that for all the brilliance of this gig, Frank Turner can only continue to give more and reach even higher and further in coming years, and we’ll all be there while he does it, singing the words back at him.

Picture by freeloosedirt