|Vocals, Acoustic Guitar:||Frank Turner|
|Percussion, Organ:||Nigel Powell|
|Violin, Viola:||Rachael Birkin|
|Double Bass:||Chris Brinck-Johnsen|
Well I was sipping on a whisky when I got the call: my friend Lex was lying in the hospital. She'd been pretty sick for about half a year, but it seemed like this time the end was drawing near. So I dropped my plans and jumped the next London train; I found her laid up and in a lot of pain. Her eyes met mine and then I understood that her weather forecast wasn't looking good. So I sat and spun her stories for a little while, tried to raise the mood, tried to raise a smile, but she silenced all my ramblings with a shake of her head, drew me close to listen, and this is what she said:
"You'll live to dance another day; it's just now you'll have to dance for the two of us. So stop looking so damn depressed and sing with all your heart that the queen is dead."
She told me she was sick of all the hospital food, of doctors / distant relatives draining her blood. She said "I know I'm dying but I'm not finished just yet. I'm dying for a drink and for a cigarette." So we hatched a plan to book ourselves a cheap hotel in the centre of the city and then raise some hell, lay waste to all the clubs and then when everyone else is long asleep then we'll know we're good and done.
The queen is dead, South London's not the same any more. The last of the greats has finally gone to bed.
Well I was working on some words when Sarah called me up, she said THAT Lex had gone to sleep and wasn't waking up. And even though I knew that there was nothing to be done, I felt bad for not being there, and now she was gone. So I tried to think what Lex would want me to do at times like this, when I was feeling blue, so I gathered some friends to spread the sad, sad news, and we headed for the city for a drink or two, and we sang: We live to dance another day; it's just now we have to dance for one more of us. So let's stop looking so damn depressed, and sing with all our hearts: Long live the queen.
Singer-songwriter Frank Turner has had an extraordinary two-years in his native England. Heralded as "The people's prince of punk poetry" by the NME, he has …