It’s several days after the Iron Lady’s death and, if it’s quite alright, the outspoken songwriter behind 2006’s ‘Thatcher Fucked The Kids’ is keeping mum. Home in London after a “nightmare” journey back from New Zealand and dealing with “constructive jet-lag”, he lets out a weary laugh when I rightly assume his phone has been ringing all week.

“I don’t resent anybody asking me about it,” prefaces Frank Turner. “Having said that, I went through the ringer pretty hard on politics last year in the public eye and, y’know what? I’m not touching Thatcher with a fucking barge-pole!”
The Eton-educated, London-living folk musician is referring to a Guardian piece last September that gathered up select quotes from him over the years under the headline: “Frank Turner: turns out he was rightwing all along. We just never noticed.”
He had, by all accounts, labelled himself as “pretty right-wing” in 2009, argued against overt government interference and suggested that the British people should have had their say on the signing on the Lisbon Treaty. Labour MP Kerry McCarthy tweeted that he was a “twerp”. Turner made a valid rebuttal that his views had fluctuated over time and that, anyway, he was no “Tory”, whilst his pal Billy Bragg defended his decision to become “apolitical”. In reality, it seemed a case of
the Guardian getting upset that Turner wasn’t the liberal soapbox singer they could get behind, their 21st Century Bragg. Then things got nasty.
“I don’t feel enormously hard done-by that people might have had that preconception,” he says. “I get it. But it’s been quite a long time now that I’ve been telling people when asked that that isn’t really who I want to be. What I want to do with my music. The reaction was pretty horrendous actually. I was getting death threats and hate mail, hundreds and hundreds of them. People going, ‘I’m going to fucking kick your
head in’.
“I consider the politics to which I ascribe to be essentially 100% defined by punk rock. An idea of being anti-authoritarian and being free individuals. And apparently that means that I need to be beaten up or whatever the fuck by people whose professed politics are the ‘Brotherhood Of Man’. So... go figure!”
Whereas 2011’s England Keep My Bones dealt unflinchingly with country, class and culture, this year’s Tape Deck Heart is a more introspective, reflective document. Not that any uproar has hindered his writing. He’s unafraid to upset, though that does make the run-up to album launches a time of “tension” and “maelstrom”. In fact, he’s made a concerted effort to write as if no one else is listening.
“A lot of bands get to a point of success where they’ve written a song and seen 1,000 people singing it back to them, so the next time they sit down it’s easy to go, ‘Should I say this, should I say that?’ You get guarded and defensive. Quite often the end result of that is a bland genericism.”
Right now, Turner is in the unique position of having sprung from a hardcore past, moved to forthright folk, and ended up being able to perform at the London 2012 opening ceremony and sell out Wembley Arena. It has been a period of landmarks. Turner recently left his twenties behind him and played his 1000th solo show (“I off-loaded my 30th shit onto that gig instead!”). His fifth solo record deals with personal change. He’s also had to reconsider his lifestyle on the road.
“Since the last record I’ve had to take care of myself a little more. I’m not sure if that’s all that specific to me and what I do for a living, you just can’t drink like you did when you were 23.”
Maybe recording in California introduced him to the healthier side of living. The album certainly benefits from the big production of Fiona Apple, Muse and The Shins man Rich Costey.
“I’d love to have worked with him in the past but, let’s put it this way, he don’t come cheap! The success of my last record enabled me to collaborate with him this time around. Contrary to the lazy journalism about my last record, I’m not particularly a patriot or a nationalist. It’s a question of honesty. I come from England and if my songs are going to sound like they come from anywhere, they should sound like they come from England.”
How exactly do you bottle Albion in sound? What defines it?
“Well... I’m not going to sing songs that talk about New York and Tennessee. It’s the reason I never liked The Rolling Stones – because Jagger sings in a fake American accent. It’s just like, you come from Richmond mate. I know where you live! I know where your
house is!”
Don’t worry Mick, when it comes to bad things in the post, Frank Turner doesn’t give, he merely receives.

Tape Deck Heart is out now.