No homo.
This is different than the Daniel Craig dude-crush.
I don't secretly harbor a desire to BE Alex Turner, or to wear speedos and drive Aston Martins and chase terrorists. I just cannot for the life of me think of another musician in today's divisive, complex, musical landscape who I feel writes songs for my generation.
I fell for the Arctic Monkeys from the moment I first heard their instant classic debut single, "I Bet You You Look Good On The Dancefloor" about a month or two after it became the talk of every British tabloid and music blogger on the face of the Earth.
I mean, here was this kid and his mates from a little town in England who were all within a year of my own age singing songs about what is essentially suburban ennui. I didn't quite agree with NME magazine for calling Whatever Everybody Says I Am, That's What I'm Not the best British rock album ever, but I did fuck with it so hard my jeans were stained with pre-cum.
I'm kind of an anglophile to begin with, so the thick English accents and hometown Sheffield flourishes were of interest to me, but what stuck with me the most was Turner's lyrics. Oh, the hard charging rhythm section and the guitars and all that helped, but the little tales Turner weaved in three and a half minutes hit me in a way I hadn't been hit since Kanye fell onto the scene.
The song "Dancing Shoes" was pretty much a word-for-word retelling of every night I've ever had out with my friends, drunkenly egging one another on to mingle, only to stand around being cynical and apathetic like it was some sexy sort of defense mechanism. "A Certain Romance" felt like the trailer song to our generation's "Reality Bites," that is, if we had one (and NO, Garden State doesn't count.) Who wasn't at least a little bit touched by the hooker in "When The Sun Goes Down?"
The group got huge, but alot of the focus was on one man. With his rakish frame, his artfully unkempt hair and his jittery on stage presence, Alex Turner was pretty much destined to be a breakout frontman. His public persona became as reserved and enigmatic as his on-record style was verbose and snarky. He'd gained a sort of status as a rock poet laureate reminiscent of Morrissey.
That's why I was a little surprised when Favourite Worst Nightmare hit the shelves, and Turner, probably in some way perturbed by being pigeonholed as the witty, slice-of-life lyrics guy, had toned down the caustic observations that made the first album so easy to relate to.
Alex's style changed as well. Gone were the thrown together combinations of ratty polo shirts and jeans. In came the cool peacoats and the slightly suave attitude.
I liked the follow-up fine. Musically, it was a step in a better direction, and songs like "Brianstorm" and "Flourescent Adolescent" still kept the razor sharp storytelling skills we all loved, but there was one song in particular that won me over.
"505," the album closer, was a different beast than most Arctic Monkeys songs. It had a melancholy, ethereal quality to it that the rest of the album's musical progression had only hinted at. A dreamy, windswept ode to an absent love, it was pretty much the zenith of the kind of maturation Alex Turner and his bandmates were going through. Then, he went and did what every up-and-coming musician does at some point when hubris comes a-knockin.
He made a side-project.
Teaming up with Rascals frontman Miles Kane, Klaxons producer James Ford (on drums), and Final Fantasy's Owen Pallet arranging strings, Turner has released my early pick for favorite album of the year. I know it's early, but I'm not one known for giving a fuck. The Last Shadow Puppets' (as they're called) debut release, The Age Of Understatement is a throwback to the dramatic, grandiosity of 60s pop music. Drawn from inspirations as diverse as David Bowie, Ennio Morricone and pretty much every Bond song ever (see? The Daniel Craig reference wasn't a throwaway), this album is a huge step forward for Alex Turner.
Where he used to focus his gift for word craft and powers of observation on pretentious bar patrons and girls in clubs, he know paints on a broader canvass, writing songs that sound like they should be in French New Wave cinema. The title track sounds like a spaghetti western, and more than one friend I've foisted this album onto has made the Bond connection when they heard the opening of "In My Room."
My personal favorite song on the album, "Calm Like You," feels like a post-WWII love story, full of dreamy regret and an intensity of emotion most don't even bother with anymore. Where every Arctic Monkeys song sounded like it could make a perfect music video, no three minute clip could contain the drama and conflict present in this new set of tunes. Each feels like its own little cinematic powder keg.
What this means for the Arctic Monkeys I'm not sure. They're preparing a third release for this year, but we're not quite sure what to expect. A further evolution of sound, perhaps drifting even further from their initial Strokes-y garage rock and further into a more (over)produced arena style. In all fairness, I couldn't care less. I'm just glad I don't have to wait any longer for my next fix.
Arctic Monkeys - When The Sun Goes Down
Arctic Monkeys - 505
The Last Shadow Puppets - In The Heat Of The Morning (Bowie cover)
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