An impromptu thesis on Arctic Monkeys

After (perhaps in hindsight, somewhat stupidly) commenting that I was currently listening to the new Arctic Monkeys album Humbug, on Twitter, I was asked by The Line Of Best Fit to write a review. Which quite frankly terrified me, as is always the case when reviewing something just about everyone has an opinion on. And after the recent battle that ensued when my Reverend and the Makers review went life, I fully expect 'lively debate' on this as well.

And when I actually sat down to write the review, I found it was impossible to do just that. So instead, what came out is a rather rambling mini-essay on the phenomenon of Arctic Monkeys, and the odd thought on their third album, Humbug. Get ready...

Arctic Monkeys – Humbug

Four years ago, a fair proportion of the nation began a love affair with Arctic Monkeys. Their first album served as a snapshot of the lives many of us were witnessing or living – Britain in 2006 -every tedious day at work, every 2-for-1 Reef –fuelled Saturday nights, and every regret-filled Sunday morning, articulated in such an eloquent yet hilariously truthful way.

Their second album perhaps took a bit more getting used to, but was ultimately still Arctic Monkeys, just somewhat streamlined, more determined and purposeful. The band were still living the same life though, still in Sheffield and still causing trouble in clubs in Friday nights, albeit now they were more likely to be members only clubs.

And so Arctic Monkeys third album, Humbug, enters into a very different world from 2006, and is the product of very different people. The question is though, can the affair continue?

The band’s authenticity, working-class, everyman ethic was always one of their unique selling points in the early days. But as time progresses, can a recession-stricken nation really still identify with Alex Tuner, living with his supermodel girlfriend in New York? Well no, of course not. But Alex Turner isn’t stupid enough to write lyrics about co-habiting with Alexa Chung and expect people to listen to them. As time’s progressed his lyrics have become more and more abstract – gone are the Topshop princesses and signs commonly seen in taxis – instead it’s dark, Dickensian metaphors, twisted imagery of circuses and carnivals, and murkier observations

But why else did we fall in love with Arctic Monkeys? The catchy riffs, rolling drums, thundering basslines, and those cheeky winks. It’s been well-documented that Humbug is produced by Josh Homme, and with most of the recoding and mastering taking place in the US, it’s with some trepidation that speculation abounded about whether there would be audible tumble-weed. However, Homme has captured the vast-ness, without completely disregarding and alienating the way the band recorded their first two records.

There are also influences from far further afield on Humbug though. As hinted at on the riff on ‘Teddy Picker’ on Favourite Worst Nightmare, the band further explore klezmer – traditional Hebrew/ Jewish music, particularly on the plodding, deliberate-sounding ‘Dangerous Animals’ and ‘Secret Door’.

Turner still has that lovable rouge, scampish, little Tyke charm he’s always had, but this album sees him become far more confident in it. Despite the ever-prevalent Yorkshire accent, his voice and delivery has a smoothness to it akin to that of someone peddling their wares or trying to pull off a con. In ‘My Propeller’ he invites us to ‘have a spin of my propeller’ in such a sly, enticing way you feel you’re getting involved in some dodgy-back alley deal. But in ‘Secret Door’, lyrically a cross between ‘505’ and ‘Mardy Bum’ of this album, Turner reverts back to a perpetually confused-by-women teenager, trying to decipher giggling and folded arms.

Josh Homme’s influence is also perhaps responsible for the heavier tracks on this album – ‘Pretty Visitors’ is an absolute beast. Its drummers Matt Helder’s show piece, combining extremes of tempo and everything in between as he drags in through kicking and screaming from beginning to end. Also featuring one of Alex Turner’s infamous, unforgettable what-is-he-on-about one liners – ‘what came first, the chicken or the dickhead’, this will undoubtedly appease those feeling uneasy with the band’s new directions.

So, after the Humbug trip through the nooks and crannies of many places that certainly aren’t Sheffield, will anyone still love Arctic Monkeys? Personally, I’m coming down hard on the side of yes. Another album that’s sounds like stock-take in a pub would’ve been one too many, and as Britain 2009 is in such a shit state of affairs, a bit of escapism seems like the perfect anti-dote. The band have developed and matured- lyrically, musically, and as people. And making a record to reflect this is exactly what they should be doing. Arctic Monkeys will always be, unmistakably, Arctic Monkeys. But, as with their second album, their more streamlined, more confident, and more determined about where they’re going, whether it’s via New York, the desert, or a back-alley.

And I think that's quite enough.