Here’s Frank Turner’s new video for his next single “Isabel.” Granted, I’m an unabashed and completely biased fan of Frank’s work, and my first reaction was there’s not a lot to this video. Frank’s on the beach singing his song. Seen it. But that’s also the point. If there were much else going on in the video, you’d be watching some overzealous director’s vision, not listening to the song and its lyrics.

Only Frank Turner could write a love song about the isolation of the human spirit stemming from the uncertainty of a rapidly evolving technologically driven worldwide economy that has removed all tangible satisfaction from life. “So the world has changed, and I must change as well. The machines we’ve made will damn us all to hell. The time will come when all must save themselves. I will save my soul in the arms of Isabel.” Your panties, they just dropped.

Frank’s got a few more shows in the Midwest with Flogging Molly, and if you’re anywhere near there, you should go see him before he heads back to the UK. You can still make it up front to see Frank like this here in the States:

But it’s only a matter of time before it turns into this over here also:

That video’s from Frank’s DVD “Take to the Road,” which is out March 22nd.

At this point, I probably don’t have to explain why the Revival Tour is among my favorite things going in music these days. If you need to know why, just watch the video above of Chuck Ragan, Jon Gaunt, Digger Barnes, Frank Turner and the Anderson Family Bluegrass kids (among others). Those kids are fucking awesome. I finally understand why people have children: sometimes they play bluegrass. Somebody get them a beer and a smoke. Welcome to the road, kids. Grab a bitch and a buzz and bring your fiddle.

As if the tour wasn’t good enough, now I come to find that Todd Beene (from Glossary) and Ben Nichols (from Lucero) will be joining Chuck, Frank, and the guys for the upcoming Australian leg of the tour. I believe each of them have played some shows on the tour in the past, but I’m not dwelling on the past, and it looks like this permutation of pickers and grinners may be one of the best possible combos I’ve heard in a long time. Finding out your favorite musicians that all come from different background and corners of the musical world will be playing together and folkin’ it up on tour together is like watching the All-Star game and for some reason giving a shit about a completely inconsequential baseball game.

The Aussie leg of the Revival Tour doesn’t kickoff until April 22^nd, so why am I mentioning it now? I need a way to get there, and that ain’t happening on short notice, and I’m going to need a few bucks from each of you or possibly a corporate sponsorship or tips on stowing away on a boat to Australia. Perhaps I can temp as a pirate. Still working on the plan. For more on the Revival Tour, go here.

I’ve never really been the type of person who wanted to trade lives with anyone, but damn, I’d give about anything to be one of those dancer guys, even assuming this footage was shot before the Civil Rights movement.

I’d tell you more about the Dawn Chorus, but I’m too busy trying to learn these moves. OOO SHIT MY HIP! MY HIP! OOOOOOWWW!  My hip’s out! Fuck. Just play the video again.

New album next month. Fuck that hurts. Damn. One more try. OH FUCK! DAMN IT! February 1^st. Jesus why’d they kill the healthcare bill. Title track, “Carnivalesque” features Frank Turner. Fuck, my knee too?!? And my elbow? How’d I fucking hurt my elbow dancing?!? Pills!!! NOW!

I shot this on the day “Poetry of the Deed” was released. Frank came in that morning to join me for the CNN webcast from my office at Current and then played a few more songs afterwards. The whole experience was a shining example of how much the media and music industry have changed over the past few years. My favorite artist from the UK came into my office in LA and played a song that was skyped into the studios in Atlanta and broadcast live to the world, and all it took was a guy with a guitar and a Mac with a webcam. That’s pretty badass.

A few weeks earlier, we ran Frank’s video for “the Road” on the segment and told people to go get “Love, Ire and Song” to prep for the release of “Poetry of the Deed.” The next day, Chris, Frank’s American wrangler, @’d on twitter asking if I wanted Frank to play in my office. Fuck yeah, I did.

After a few messages under 140 characters, we set it up. Frank rolled in somewhere around 9 AM, tuned his guitar as we waited for our cue from Atlanta and I begrudgingly had to explain who John Gossling is and why he was the top story of the day, which basically amounted to “because everything’s bullshit.”

Over the past few years, I’ve shot and interviewed a lot of musicians, and from what I can tell, there’s basically two types: the good ones and the rest of them. Hell, I’ve interviewed some people who didn’t even want to play a song, as if they earn their living from talking about themselves. Not Frank, he was all aces. When I told him that he was going to sit in a desk chair and sing into a webcam and then answer a few questions from the anchors as it was broadcast to the world live, he just said “cool,” as if that kind of thing happened everyday, and then he nailed it, and I just sat their grinning like a stoned Cheshire cat.   

Truth is, I think you could put Frank anywhere and he’d put on a hell of a show. I’m pretty sure if you handed him his acoustic guitar, a parachute, and put a foot to his ass at 14,000 feet, Frank would hit the ground and immediately put on a show that the locals talked about for generations. You’d be a dick for doing it, but he could probably pull it off.

Later that week, I was lucky enough to see Frank play at a house party. He played until the cops showed up around 5 AM. Or I guess, technically until a little after the cops showed up. Once the fuzz got there, I kept drunkenly whisper-shouting “Keep playing! Keep playing! C’mon, you gotta keep playing!” which was probably really annoying, but I was about 12 hours of beer deep at that point, and sometimes I get excited.

I’m not telling you that story in a “la-ti-da I get to go to Hollywood parties kind of way,” but rather in a “you could be there too” kind of way. After playing sold-out shows at clubs and theatres, Frank will play house parties for pretty much anyone who gathers a crowd and gives him some beer and a place to sleep for a few hours, which finally brings us back to the song above.

Every lyric is pure gold, but “…thinking that you’re better because you sit up on some stage, if you’re oh so fucking different, than who cares what you have to say? Because 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” is fucking brilliant and it really sums up all my experiences with Frank better than this post could if I rambled on for another 8 pages, so go listen to it again.

Sometimes people don’t get genius on it’s first time through town, especially if that town is Little Rock Arkansas. I’d say more about this song, but I think it tells the story pretty damn well itself.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for songs about doing shitty shows. Not only are they brutally honest, you know someday a crowd of thousands will be singing along with the song about that night when only 20 people showed up.

You know what they say, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and then set that aside and drink a case of beer.

But don’t worry about Frank, he knows how to draw a crowd: