Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (Domino)
5/5
By: Matt Tomiak
It's not rocket science, but by following five simple words - write about what you know - the Arctic Monkeys made a classic debut album.
Having surveyed the lyrical and thematic failings of so much contemporary music - submerged in gormless innuendo, empty clichés, smug-(sm)art arsery and bland generalizations about how life is, like, y'know, all about searching for Important Answers to Big Questions, the Arctic Monkeys seem to have simply shrugged, and got down to the apparently effortless business of transferring their young lives to record.
Nightclub altercations, scraps round the back of the takeaway, amorous debacles, bedsit philosophizing... And it works a treat. As a lyricist, Alex Turner injects his songwriting with the kind of empathy and eloquence that can't be taught. It's what truly sets the Arctic Monkeys apart. And really not so easy - it's been much attempted before - and this record will speak to many listeners in a way that some bleary-eyed geezer in a long coat warbling 'THIS IS FAAAAR THE PAAAAAAAR' never could. To misquote Morrissey, 'Whatever You Say I Am, That's What I'm Not' says everything to me about my life.
Despite their familiarity from their demo, Myspace (and in the case of turbo-charged indie disco smash 'I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor', an out-of-nowhere Number One hit single), these Jim Abiss-produced incarnations remain thrillingly fresh, vibrant and achingly authentic, pithily detailing routine Sheffield existences with ruthlessly efficiency and scathing wit.
The music's a combination of scabrous, vehement Sex Pistols-style delivery, the Las' skiffle-y melodicism and 'Definitely Maybe'-era Oasis self-belief and self-pride, all polished to an I-pod generation shine.
'The View From The Afternoon' opens the album and sets the tone: chronicling a hen night, it's at once hilarious, uncannily accurate and quintessentially British. Taking in intrusive text messaging, ASBO incurring rebellion, Smirnoff Ice binges, 'Topshop Princesses', red-light district seediness, 'WYSIATWIN' boasts an undeniable time capsule-historical value of Blair's Britain, as well as an irrefutable linguistic worth; the two-fingered salute to disingenuous posers 'Fake Tales of San Francisco', casts Turner as a sort of South Yorkshire Holden Caulfield, in addition to proving that there are few better disparaging phrases than 'f***ing wank'; 'Dancing Shoes', a 2006 revision of 'Cigarettes & Alcohol', confirms that there are few better terms of endearment than 'you sexy little swine.'
In 2012, when the 'Thank You' section acknowledges supermodel wives, the staff of the Groucho Club and the Primrose Hill 'set', rather than the undoubtedly earthy, grounded solid individuals mentioned here - 'Big John', 'Greeny' and 'Gaz in Middlesborough,' we may permit ourselves to become slightly sceptical. Until that time arrives, let's just treasure this LP and the Monkeys' timely rise to legendary status.
Artists in this article: Arctic Monkeys
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