He does care about the young folks…

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[4.00]

Alex Wisgard: As frontman of Million Dead, Frank Turner was a firebrand punk, spouting polemic and cracking wise — a revolutionary with a smile. Fast forward six years, and as his records increase in popularity (through pretty admirable word of mouth acclaim), his fangs have been removed one by one. The lead single from his horrifically named third album Poetry of the Deed, “The Road” is a hookless, edgeless, acoustic abortion of tour fatigue, and finds Turner talking a lot — and looking damn smug while doing it — but saying absolutely nothing. The sound of a man pissing on his own bonfire.
[1]

Alex Ostroff: This is proper folk, then? Not alt-country Wilco, not acoustic emo Bright Eyes, not literary Okkervil River, but proper folk, apparently. Turner used to be a member of a hardcore punk band, and perhaps as a result, isn’t tied to equations of folk with whispered vocals and finger-picking. He’s not afraid to let his guitars scream or his voice holler. In this, he reminds me of Great Big Sea, a Canadian band who sit firmly at the juncture of harmony-laden folk, Gaelic fiddling, and songs about nautical wanderlust. This is a good thing.
[8]

Erick Bieritz: Moving between the superficially dissimilar genres is a way to stumble into musical maturity with punk’s primitivism intact. Neither primitivism or maturity is meant pejoratively here, but nonetheless, jumping from a genre that ostensibly rejects conventions to one that cherishes them risks anachronism and repetition.
[6]

Alex Macpherson: Busker mistakes being “moved on” by police and Tube staff for possessing a romantic troubadour spirit.
[0]

Martin Kavka: Wow, Billy Bragg has got an amazing plastic surgeon.
[6]

Michaelangelo Matos: Like Conor Oberst covering Linkin Park, only not as listenable: not a comparison I make lightly.
[2]

Anthony Miccio: Man, I don’t know if Nickelback does covers, but they could really strengthen their market share by covering a blustery English drinking song like this. I’m sure their fans would be grateful for something “appropriate” to put on the jukebox during World Cup games at UK-themed pubs.
[5]

Chuck Eddy: He’s not allergic to vocal presence or ringing guitars. Chorus is moderately rousing; verses don’t stick; traveling troubador theme is as old as hats get. Coda feels kinda tacked on.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: There’s folk and country tinting the basic rock, and it bounces along pleasantly enough, but his voice does nothing for me, despite his obvious enthusiasm.
[3]

Ian Mathers: I’m torn; by the end of “The Road” Turner has built up enough momentum that the song is almost compelling just by virtue of its full-throated roar. But it only gets there by contrast to its annoyingly weedy intro and outro, and in any case Turner’s first verse proves so on-the-nose that any interesting ambiguity he could have fostered is killed. Ultimately, there are plenty of songs that have “The Road”‘s virtues without its weaknesses; unless you really love thinking about the romance of the open road, there’s little reason to listen to this one.
[3]

Kat Stevens: Slightly less soul-destroying than the A406.
[2]

Additional Scores

Anthony Easton: [6]