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Arctic Monkeys |
| Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not |
| Domino | 2006 | Album |
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After the first week of being on sale in the UK Arctic Monkeys debut had shifted close on 500,000 copies. To put that in some kind of context, it took the Beatles close on a year to shift that many copies of their first LP. It is officially the first selling debut album in UK chart history.
Their rapid ascend to the summit could have left them gasping for air and running on empty. This could so easily have been yet another Emperors new clothes. I am pleased to report that they have delivered on the promise of those early singles and unleashed a thrilling, uplifting album.
So here is what its not. It’s not The Sex Pistol, it lacks the feral fury and the politics. Nor is it Oasis, it has lyrics that cut through with pathos and bite, its not simply a series of non-sequiturs that rhyme. I keep seeing The Libertines name checked but this is too focused on the here and now. It’s not some wistful drug addled dream of a lost Albion. Alex Turner can pen a lyric but he is Philip Larkin to Peter Doherty’s Shelly. The songs deal with the grinding realities of the everyday life not some fantasy of drug dens and Bohemia.
At heart this is a UK take on emo, small town ennui, acne, wanking and drunken attempts to attract the opposite sex, hangovers and boredom. Musically its an old fashion punk record with the added bonus of some amazingly erudite lyrics. What it reminds me of most is the romantic scratchy rumble of the Buzzcocks. The guitars are taut and buzzing. The riffs sting and slide, the drumming is super tight and the base a high wire act. The lyrics drip with sarcasm and pin sharp observation. Turner’s vocals are as Sheffield as Sean Bean, drop forged steel and Park Hill estate.
Where Pete Shelley’s Buzzcocks took punk and stirred in it with a love of Krautrock, Arctic Monkeys have shoved punk and the dense rhythm and rhyme of hip-hop in a test tube and given it a good shake. The Monkeys love of hip-hop can be heard in the way in which the lyrics flow, the chop and change of the meter, the tension and release of the music.
It’s clear that this is something special from the first line; “Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment, but..” It the boldest statement of intent I have heard since The Stone Roses named the opening track on their debut I Wanna Be Adored. Loaded with a knowing sense of wit and that cocky northern charm, it dares you to come and have a go if you think you hard enough. The open three songs are a full frontal assault of whiplash guitars, tribal drumming and those witty sharp lyrics.
I wonder if Damon Albarn blushes when he heard Fake Tales Of San Francisco. The caustic account of fake bandwagon jumping bands enthralled with America. In less than three minutes it distils Blur’s three Britpop LP’s into a single song and it does it with more panache. The payoff line “I'd love to tell you all my problem, You're not from New York City, you're from Rotherham”, cut right through to the marrow.
Imagine if Mike Skinner of The Streets moved north to Yorkshire and went punk and you would have a good idea of how Still Take You Home and Red Light Indicates Door Secure sound. Tightly packed tales of being on the pull in a club and the cab journey home, they nail the heady rush of a great night out. The chest beating male bravado is undercut by a keen sense of self-depreciation. When Turner sings “They wanted to be men and do some fighting in the street, No surrender, no chance of retreat..” this isn’t an idolisation of violence, the scathing tone of Turner’s voice leaves you in no doubt about that.
The middle of the LP becomes a little indie rock by numbers and for a band who’s rise has been rapid and those press has been so gilded, the vitriol aimed at A&R and music writers on “Vampires Is A Bit Strong But..” is a little rich.
Thankfully A Certain Romance closes the record in glorious fashion and leaves you wanting to hear more. The pounding drum salvo opens the track like The Smiths Queens is Dead before the guitars get all slinky and dislocated. Casting a weary eye around his surrounding and finding no romance in the urban boredom of his life he sighs “Don't get me wrong though there's boys in bands, And kids who like to scrap with pool cues in their hands..” but he’s not judgmental. Those brandishing pool cues are old friends of his and you can sense that he understand that he’s lucky to have found his escape route. Its warmth, of his words, the feel of empathy that really give the LP it’s potency. Like Jarvis Cocker before him he lives the life he’s telling, these aren’t snide clichéd snapshots.
Arctic Monkeys are special; on this record are the seeds of something unique. I just hope that the hype doesn’t drown them because if they come close to reaching the potential here they are going to take over the world. |
| Tony Heywood |
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