CATEGORISING Frank Turner has never been easy – is he folk-punk, alt-folk, acoustic rock or even alt-rock with a splash of punky folk? The man himself intimated that it was a punk show.

Frankly, who cares? Call it what you like – it was a fantastic performance to a fully engaged, mosh-pitting, crowd surfing, singing along audience paying homage to their hero.

Turner inhabits that strange universe just below superstardom – his adoring fans are legion but he really only scratches the surface of the general public’s consciousness.

That’s a shame because this Wessex Boy puts on an excellent, enthusiastic, evocative and exuberant show, full of bangs and whistles and the seamless blending of new tracks with old favourites.

Pyrotechnics, crowd dancing, big screens, surfing, films and an explosion of pink confetti helped mark this gig as a proper show.

Turner may come from a rich family and have been educated alongside Prince William at Eton, but his song-writing shows he very much remains a man of the people with opinions and a social conscience.

Here at the BIC he was on the short UK leg of a tour which has seemingly been going on since his seventh studio album Be More Kind, inspired by a Clive James poem, first appeared last May.

At 37, he is indefatigable – there have been 2,307 (he’s counting!) gigs since 2004 – and shows no sign of slowing down, as frantic opener Out Of Breath aptly demonstrated, with our hero barely still for a moment.

For nigh on two hours he held the audience rapt with the likes of The Road, 1933, Recovery, Four Simple Words, Photosynthesis, I Still Believe et al.

Of course, he couldn’t play this ‘home’ gig – he was raised in Winchester – without doing the sublime Wessex Boy. It was part of a brilliant solo acoustic section, along with Long Live The Queen and The Ballad of Me And My Friends.

The new stuff is pretty good too. Title track Be More Kind will soon become a classic, and the likes of Don’t Worry, Brave Face and Little Changes ¬– here featuring Dorset actor Benny Bright demonstrating the dance steps on stage ¬– are not far behind.

Actually, whatever categorical arguments to the contrary you may produce, it is apparent Turner is folk – my case rested on the fact that the crowd sang along splendidly.

Support came from Jim Adkins’ American emo punk veterans Jimmy Eat World, strange bedfellows perhaps, but producing a great 45-minute step back in time and going down a storm.

A wall of power pop, including old favourites Pain, Sweetness and the showstopper The Middle were topped, for me anyway, by the sole ballad Hear You Me.