By Colin Ballard (Contributor) – Email
Print Edition: October 2, 2013
Too slow, over-stylized, and cold: my first impressions listening to the fifth and latest record from Sheffield’s perennial rock band. Plastering its initials on the cover and calling it an album title, I thought the Arctic Monkeys had finally become victims to their own overconfidence after straddling that fine line for so long. AM is an attempt at supreme coolness, as Alex Turner leads his band into a dark and sexy night. Forget the lights; it’s about to get dirty.
This isn’t the first time the band has undergone a massive change in sound. Since their ridiculously good debut, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, in 2006, the band has been in a constant state of evolution and growth. Like chameleons, the Monkeys (forgive the mixed metaphor) have changed their skins and sound from album to album; from the tinges of psychedelia in Favourite Worst Nightmare to the dusty desert rock of Humbug and vintage hard rock of Suck It and See, Arctic Monkeys has shown both versatility and consistency. There has always been a clear path through each record that shows this is a band that knows which direction it wants to go.
So I was able to trust them after my initial doubts on AM. Sure, I was heartbroken by the choice to downplay Matt Helders’ frenetic from-left-field drumming, which is one of the reasons I’ve always been impressed by the band, but the choice makes sense now. This is an album that thrives on the quarter note, and even though I wish there were more creative beats to ogle, the prevalence of handclaps, tambourines, and drum machines sets just the right mood.
The defining feature of this album is that it should be listened to late at night. AM is the drive home past midnight. It’s an album obsessed with women, drugs, and good songwriting. AM is the soundtrack to an Arctic Monkeys after-party.
It wears its influences on its sleeve: the plodding bass of “One For The Road” weaves with spectral plucks of Jamie Cook’s guitar, sounding like some sort of diabolical hip-hop lick. Turner’s vocal style echoes this at times: his long drawl of “Drunken monologues, confused because / it’s not like I’m in love / I just want you to do me no good / and you look like you could” in “No. 1 Party Anthem” sounds both breathless and soulful, like a rapper writing a piano ballad. Clearly, the band’s migration to Los Angeles had its effects.
Sonically, AM feels just as filthy as the themes it presents: there’s a satisfying graininess to the tracks, giving it real attitude. Drummer Helders’ snare is tuned way down low, creating a deep, punchy sustain that matches up well against Nick O’Malley’s fuzzy bass notes. The guitar tones work on two levels, shifting from Sabbath-like punch on the big choruses to ghostly, manic distortion everywhere else. Check out “Arabella,” “R U Mine?” and “Knee Socks” to get the full spectrum of guitar sounds.
AM is filled with more harmonies than any previous release. Turner’s distinctive, accent-laden voice is complemented by Helders’ and O’Malley’s tag-team falsettos, which have really developed since the band’s inception. Throughout the disc, there’s a constant back-and-forth between them, almost like a conversation. Josh Homme crawls out of the desert to offer backing vocals on a couple of tracks, and his sultry crooning at the end of “Knee Socks” fits the scene perfectly, serving as a reminder of just how important his involvement in Humbug was to the current Arctic Monkeys sound.
Lyrically, Turner has always been a bit of a mad scientist, but with AM, he finally has the space to go for broke. AM is all about desire and seduction, and Turner sounds like a man possessed by both: “Arabella” opens with “Arabella’s got some interstellar-gator skin boots / And a helter skelter ‘round her little finger and I ride it endlessly.” It barely makes sense, but it just sounds disgusting; it’s insane, and way too sexy for its own good. Moments like these are sharply contrasted by measures of supreme simplicity, notably the “Ooh la la las” of “Mad Sounds,” and it’s this contrast that really gives the disc its character.
Some tracks feel weaker than others, notably “I Want It All,” and “Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High,” but these are overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of purpose. AM’s tracks are loaded with style and confidence that might feel overbearing, but when everything slows down, Turner and the rest can serenade with the best of them. This culminates in the closing track, “I Wanna Be Yours,” which is a rewritten version of John Cooper Clarke’s poem of the same name. This track is the entire album in three minutes: a slow burner; a 2 a.m. (I think I get it now – AM) love song that yearns and builds into one long question: at the end of the night, who are you going home with?
