I first came across Frank Turner while living in a seedy (yet surprisingly upscale) apartment with two Parisian chess grifters, some Argentinian girls, and a garden possum near the “dirty half mile” of Kings Cross in Sydney. I didn’t know it at the time, but Turner could have written the soundtrack to the next 15 months of my traveling, crossing deserts, sleeping in airports and sailing down the coast. Turner has an amazing knack for capturing the human condition, and of writing honestly about a lot of the things I’ve thought and wish I’d said – to myself, my friends, and to the whole bloody world. As he showed last night at The Venue, he can still “wing” an awesome high octane whiskey fueled show… and all he needs is an acoustic guitar with a rambunctious crowd that keeps the shouts of whiskey flowing up on to the stage.