Frank Carter discovers love

I first discovered the wonder and mystery of Frank Carter ten years ago, when in Britain to see the Sex Pistols’ latest filthy lucre tour.  Frank was on the cover of the NME, because he was the coolest person in the world.  I was intrigued.

Bjorn and me and some other guys went to see Frank and his then-band, Gallows, play with Cancer Bats here in Tee Dot.  Here’s one of their tunes that my kids love.

Cancer Bats actually blew them off the stage, but Frank was just unbelievably captivating and charismatic and all that. He bled and sweat all over everything; he was a frenzied madman, spitting nails and barbed wire. I talked to him later at Gallows’ merch table, where he was happily selling T-shirts. No star affectations with this guy.

He quit Gallows, which was weird, because he formed the band with his brother, who I think stayed with Gallows. Anyway. He formed Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes. To say that they are different from Gallows is the punk rock understatement of the year.

To wit:

Anyway. I’m happy he’s happy. I liked it better when he was a madman and spitting barbed wire, however.