Rock City has hosted thousands of gigs over the years, but few felt as charged, alive, and deeply human as the night Frank Turner returned to its stage for his 3016th show. Flanked by two wildly different but equally compelling support acts—Dan Ottewell and Amigo the Devil—the evening was a masterclass in emotional range, storytelling, and the raw power of live performance.
Dan Ottewell opened the night, and for those who’ve followed his journey since he was a teenager tentatively testing the waters of songwriting, this set was something of a landmark. Dan has matured into a confident, captivating artist with a clear sense of identity, both musically and personally. Clad in bespoke tailoring that echoed his sharp eye for aesthetic detail, Ottewell cut a striking figure on stage. But it was his music that commanded attention: thoughtful, emotionally resonant, and delivered with subtle power. There’s a clarity to his voice now, a quiet assurance that wasn’t there in the early days. His songs are still intimate, but there’s a new depth and perspective behind them; he’s grown, and it shows. Dan Ottewell is no longer a promising newcomer. He’s arrived, and he’s one to watch.
Then came Amigo the Devil, who took that introspection and lit a match under it. For 40 riveting minutes, he turned the venue into a theatre of the macabre, part stand-up, part Southern Gothic sermon, all heart. Songs like “Murder at the Bingo Hall”, “Hell and You”, and the gleefully brutal “I Hope Your Husband Dies” didn’t just entertain, they unsettled, amused, and moved. Amigo has a rare ability to make darkness feel redemptive, folding sharp humour into tragedy without ever trivializing it. He left the stage to a crowd both smiling and shaken.
And then, Frank Turner and The Sleeping Souls came on—and detonated any remaining reserve in the room. Turner has always been a force live, but tonight he felt unrelenting, radiant with purpose. Touring in support of his latest album Undefeated, he opened with “No Thank You for the Music”, a punchy mission statement that set the tone for a set that was equal parts defiance and celebration.
Older anthems like “Recovery”, “Photosynthesis”, and “I Still Believe” ignited the crowd as expected, but it was the quieter moments that hit hardest. During a solo segment mid-set, Turner brought out “Tattoos” and “Be More Kind”, songs that spotlight the empathy at the core of his work. These weren’t just singalongs; they were calls to remember each other’s humanity.
Frank Turner’s bond with his fans is palpable. He doesn’t perform at people he performs with them. Every lyric, every fist in the air, every moment of vulnerability is shared, not broadcast. His encore felt less like an obligatory finish and more like a mutual agreement to keep going just a little longer.
This was a communal exhale, a proof of life. Three distinct artists, each walking their own emotional tightrope, held the crowd rapt for nearly three hours. Rock City has rarely felt more alive.
