AS a chronicler of modern Britain, Frank Turner has long had a loyal following of fans, happy to sing along with his honest tales of life, love and loss.

But one evening performance, earlier this year, saw the man tipped as the British Bruce Springsteen propelled to a whole new level.

At the invitation of Danny Boyle, the singer-songwriter led the warm-up to the greatest show on Earth – the London Olympic Games.

In front of an audience of 120,000 in the Olympic Stadium, and more than 27 million more watching on TV in the UK alone, he perched atop a grassy representation of Glastonbury Tor and bashed out his anthemic I Still Believe. The song was perhaps an unlikely choice for the occasion, containing, as it does, the line “Come ye, come ye, to soulless corporate circus tops”, but went down well with a crowd, minutes before the jaw-dropping spectacle got under way.

And no one was more amazed than our Frank. “I am still surprised myself,” he laughs. “I’m still wondering whether it happened. It didn’t fit into the continuum of my life.

“When people realised I was doing it, they said ‘what’s going on?’ And that was my friends!”

The Bahrain-born and Winchester-raised singer is an artist who’s done things the hard way; the old-fashioned way. A former member of punk band Million Dead, he embarked on his solo career armed only with an acoustic guitar, and a wagon load of self-belief.

Initially playing to rooms with half a dozen people, his songs struck a chord with listeners who related to his uncompromising stories of everyday existence – whether it be the pain of unrequited love, crawling home in the morning with a hangover, political disenchantment, the death of a friend, growing older, or on Wessex Boy, from this year’s folk-edged England Keep My Bones, the bittersweet joys of returning to his Hampshire hometown.

The ability to relate to his lyrics, whatever one’s background, have made him one of our best-loved solo artists, a British Bob Dylan of our time. A favourite at gigs and festivals, earlier this year he headlined his own show in front of 12,000 people at Wembley Arena, with support from Billy Bragg.

Frank, 31, is taking what he describes as a day off from a tour, which on Monday hits the O2 Academy Oxford. And he seems to enjoy the chance to share his musings. Warm, self-effacing and chatty, his quick wit and banter betrays the ferocious intelligence which underscores the songs of this Eton and LSE-educated artist.

The tour, with his backing band The Sleeping Souls, sees Frank playing venues which, while not exactly intimate, are a step down from the arena shows of the summer.

“It’s great to be on the road again,” he says. “It’s good to see the UK properly after quite a while. This tour feels old-school and back-to-basics.”

“I’ve played all the venues before but not for a long time and it’s funny to come back. I’ve particularly enjoyed meeting old friends.”

That is particularly true of Oxford, a city he has played so many times he is often mistaken for a local artist. Oxford musicians Tarrant Anderson, Nigel Powell and Ben Lloyd of punk-pop band Dive Dive make up the bulk of The Sleeping Souls, and the lads have recorded and produced his records.

“I have spent a lot of time in Oxford – and a lot of those have been fun times,” he says. “And three-quarters of my band are Oxfordians.

“When Oxford film-maker Jon Spira made his movie anyone Can Play Guitar about the local music scene he asked to interview me. I told him I wasn’t even from Oxford, and he said ‘you might as well be!’.

“I am looking forward to coming back. I want people to bring their dancing shoes and warm up their voices because they’ll be singing!”

So does it feel strange scaling down for this tour? “Well, the odd bit was playing the arena and stadium shows,” he says. “Between then and now I have gone back to playing shows for 500 people. They are my bread and butter and I feel more at home there.”

“I can present my music in a wide array of contexts, though. I spent my younger days playing to eight people and a dog and I can still do that, but if the opportunity presents itself to play a big arena again I’ll take it.”

He admits to having received barbs from critics about accepting the invitation to open the Olympics, some from his former fellow punks. He regards the criticism with humour.

“There was a backlash,” he says. “They saw it as selling-out, but then that’s the function of punk rock.

“I was one myself and would probably have sent myself a sniffy email.

“I want to congratulate them for their chutzpah,” he laughs. “If they would have had the balls to say no to taking part in an Olympic opening ceremony, then well done!”

He was hugely impressed by the ceremony – despite predictions by the prophets of doom.

He says: “The British are good at pessimism and saying everything is rubbish, but I had the opportunity to see the dress rehearsal. I remember smiling to myself and thinking ‘just you wait’. I was sworn to legally binding secrecy about my own role in it – though I did tell my mum!

“My mum spent the early years of my career worrying about me, so it was very nice to make her proud.”

Yet, it is nice to be reassured that fame has not gone to his head; as if it would. “At least 99 per cent of the people watching probably thought ‘who’s that Frank Turner guy?’” he laughs. “Though at least it has given me a better shot at longevity.”

And how does he like the Springsteen comparisons? “Being a Springsteen fan, it’s very nice,” he says. “It’s also nice not being compared to Billy Bragg all the time. As much as I respect him and like his music, he’s not my biggest influence.”

And, after stepping out alone as a wandering troubadour did he ever expect this level of success? “Well, I lay around dreaming of arena shows,” he says. “But there’s a gulf between daydreaming and any realistic expectation of it happening. So I’m pleasantly surprised.

“I am delighted when I wake up in the morning, and still haven’t had a call from the reality police!”

  • Frank Turner plays the O2 Academy, Oxford on Monday (November 26)
  • Tickets have Sold out