Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare (Domino)
4/5
By: Thomas Hannan
'Favourite Worst Nightmare' is already something of a momentous record, what with every single track from it charting in the top 200 singles run down this week, due to recent changes involving chart rules and downloads. But for the Arctic Monkeys themselves, it's momentous for a different reason - though it's easy to forget, this is the first record since the band underwent a major line up change. You'd forgive them for exhibiting a certain degree of trepidation, showing some nerves, since swapping bass players. Perhaps such a display would even endear them to us even more, remind us that the Monkeys are human after all...
But nothing of the sort. Not even a hint that anything, in terms of their confidence in their skills at least, has changed one jot. It starts with 'Brianstorm', and despite the annoying pun of the title, it's actually one of the band's greatest ever songs, and a strong contender for single of the year despite not even having a chorus. How's that for brave - a comeback single that doesn't even have a chorus! Never mind that, the thing's barely even got a melody! But what makes the lack of such basic songwriting tricks not matter one bit is that the band play it as if it's the last song that any band will ever play - faster, heavier, better than anything they've ever attempted prior to this date. Yes, it's hardly a radical departure, but like for much of the album the band are operating on the idea that if it ain't broke you should try to break it - bash the living sh*t out of it, in fact, and see what happens. The repeat mining of this patch of genius they find themselves in hasn't damaged the quality of the produce one bit, so, in essence, all's good, right?
Pretty much. Certain future single 'Teddy Picker' arrives with the first display of what will become known as The Favourite Worst Nightmare Guitar Sound TM, and also is instance numero uno of Alex Turner's lyrical prowess still being in full flow - "who'd want to be men of the people when there's people like you?" expressing a sentiment that surely anyone who's ever been outside and tried to converse with the general public will be able to assign to someone they've met at some point. He's still at his best when he's singing about things people his age can relate to, elsewhere ('D Is For Dangerous') imploring us to "try and keep your trousers on", case in point number one of what a sleazy, sex-ridden album this is going to be.
Yes, one suspects the boys might have been up to rather a lot of the horizontal boogaloo of late, given the amount of filth there is on this disc - next in line 'Balaclava', which hints marvellously at the funk root of this very indie band, alluding yet again to hanky panky. Mucky pups. Yet they're much more successful when they're hinting at their own love lives, or those of people it's easier for their audience to relate to, than those of people whose lives they must know little about. 'Fluorescent Adolescent' for example might be one of the best pieces of actual music the Monkeys will ever write, but lyrically it seems concerned solely with the sex life of a middle aged woman. And you'll be forgiven for beginning to ponder what exactly Turner knows about such things. Given that he's a man my age, I can sympathise with his witty quips about his own trials of the heart (and groin). I find them somewhat endearing. But surely the only middle aged woman he knows particularly well is his own dear mother? And isn't there something a little odd about relating that in song? Surely, and I don't think I'm on my own here, nobody wants to contemplate the sex lives of their parents, even if it is set to blistering rock n' reggae? But, of course, as when someone tells you not to picture something, that very image forms in your head. Whilst it admirably aims for something such as Blur's 'End of a Century', further exploring how "your mind gets dirty as you get closer to thirty", it describes the sex life of your parent, rather than your mate. And there you sit, listening to these jaunty, ska-like chords, desperately trying not to picture it.
Excuse us a shudder, here. Luckily, it's followed by one of the band's best moments to date both musically and lyrically, as when 'Only Ones Who Know' arrives you find that it's startlingly devoid of both bass and drums, and stands there naked as simply an excellently crafted, tender and highly mature (not in a 'Forty Plus Wives' sense) piece of rock music. It comes slap bang in the middle of the record, as if it's the albums 'Badhead' (there are an alarming amount of comparisons to be made between this band and Blur these days, but we'll let you discover the rest yourself), and masterfully doesn't ruin the pace of what is for the most part a really rollicking ride. It also suggests that there's more to this band than we first thought existed, and that they just might indeed be here for a good while yet.
From there, they play as if they're unstoppable. The low, primal thunder of 'Do Me a Favour' with its fantastic imagery of "tears on the steering wheel" is the kind of track that spits in the face of naysayers. Huge melodies appear from nowhere as they tended to do on Beck's 'Guero' (seriously), then drift back in to the abyss as those rumbling drums refuse to let go of centre stage, before it's all stripped back to just the vocals and a pounding climax worthy of Interpol. How's that for growing up...
Still, there are very few songs that would suit, say, acoustic renditions particularly well. The songs hit incredibly hard, each and every one, but none of them could be described as beautiful. None of them soar. When they find one that does, they'll be the great band people currently say they are. As it is, 'Favourite Worst Nightmare' is all about plugging in and playing very loud and very fast, sticking your fingers your ears and shouting so that criticism just bounces off you.
It's also undeniably a strong record, but a very samey one. A particularly samey one - the band know this, too - at 37:34 it's tellingly brief. It also seems like a transitionary album, the sound of a group who are well aware of both their strengths and the fact that currently there remains something that they lack - the ability to pen those soaring songs we were talking about, perhaps? Come the tail end of the LP we're treated to things such as 'If You Were There, Beware' which drifts by all but unnoticed, being as it is yet another collection of heavy riffs, false endings and cheeky turns of phrase. Move along now, boys - but they don't, not just yet. 'The Bad Thing', bafflingly a contender for future single, sees them parodying the stance they took on the already flawed 'Flourescent Adolescent' by delivering another tale of mucky middle aged love making and infidelity. Catchy though it is, again lyrically it lacks the insight we've come to expect (or unfairly demand?) from this bunch.
Yet however if anything points towards a bright future, and adds real weight to our idea that this LP is a transition record, it's the closing stunner '505', on which the Arctic Monkeys sound like highly accomplished musicians twice their age yet don't befall the problems that hamper so many of those older tradesmen - i.e. actually sounding like tired old men. It's the first time they've ever showcased that they can lower the tempo and still be as edgy, as exciting, as innovative. In fact, if anything here could survive a rendition solely on an acoustic guitar it'd be this one, although it's difficult to imagine any of the songs on this album standing up without The Favourite Worst Nightmare Guitar Sound TM.
The bad thing is due to the inevitable radio overkill each and every track here will receive, you know you'll be fed up of it within two months. The good thing is they'll probably have released another classic by then.
Watch the video to 'Brianstorm' HERE.
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