Arctic Monkeys: Best Of British

Forget the crass warbling of Kasabian and the now defunct laddish sing-a-longs of Oasis (RIP), Arctic Monkeys are the undisputed kings of the UK music scene as Alice Wagstaffe talks swapping Sheffield for Brooklyn, retaining your working class roots and avoiding the dreaded cross-Atlantic accent, by heck lad…

It could be a scene from a ‘70s rockumentary. Four sharply-dressed musicians with unwashed shoulder-length hair stand with confident postures between two megastar-style double-decker tour buses, gazing with expressionless faces down a camera lens as the photographer snaps away.

The four men posing backstage at Wembley Arena today are almost unrecognisable from the four Yorkshire boys who first burst onto the music scene in 2005. Alex Turner (vocals and guitar), Matt Helders (drums), Jamie Cook (guitar) and latecomer to the party, Nick O’Malley (bass), have smashed out three critically acclaimed number one albums, racked up thousands upon thousands of touring miles, hogged magazine covers across the globe (and have now realised a dream by appearing on the cover of Artrocker) and established themselves as one of the biggest bands of our generation.

Gone are the chav uniforms; loose Adidas trackies, box-fresh white trainers and short back’n’side cuts, and it’s in with the traditional rock’n’roll uniform of tight leather jackets, skinny black jeans and haircuts that would no doubt have earned them a 'reight good kickin’ back in the day in Sheffield.



But their appearances pale into insignificance when compared to their change in lifestyle.

In March Alex became a trans-Atlantic casualty when he moved to Brooklyn, New York; a daring moving for a man famed for his ability to connect with your average British lad. Since they sang of ‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’ (“you’re not from New York City / you’re from Rotherham”), Arctic Monkeys have come to exemplify all that’s English; with their strong Northern tones and colloquial quips, their legions of loyal fans singing along with Sheffield accents, even if they’ve never set foot in the city. With the day-to-day average Englishman experiences playing such a leading role in their lyrics, you can’t help but wonder if such a dramatic change in scenery will influence the music?

“It’s arguable that it already has,” says Alex as I check for any signs of a wandering American drawl. “‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ is much broader, much more worldly than ‘Whatever People Say…’ and ‘Humbug’ even more so, but not to the point where we don’t sound like a British band anymore.”

He speaks softly and thoughtfully, not afraid to inject long comfortable silences into conversation as he mulls over questions. It’s a refreshing change from the PR-happy taking heads style that successful musicians often adopt. He’s unexpectedly charming, his puppy-dog eyes impossible to look away from.

“I can understand why the ‘British Working Class’ label was connected with the first record but when I wrote it I didn’t know if it was even going to be a record. The lyrics were all punch lines and the humour was directed at a number of our friends who I was just trying to make laugh. When those songs got labeled ‘the voice of the generation’, that made me very uncomfortable ‘cos at that time we didn’t plan on going in that direction necessarily, so we tried to wriggle away from it.”

Alex’s long lyrical journey is easily plotted through the albums, as the songs lose that teenage edge over time, swapping flippancy for subtlety, an observation not lost on his band mates.

“These last few years, it’s become very popular to sing lyrics like: ‘I was drinking wine in front of the telly on a Saturday night’,” says Nick, impersonating an implacable musician in a whiney voice. “I think it’s gone too far that way now, making really obvious observations, and I think if Alex would have carried on in that way our songs would have become really shit and boring.”

“I don’t think Alex moving to America is going to effect the lyrics,” says Nick, dismissively, “he’s changing lyrically anyway.”

“Some people will always have a place for that first album,” continues Jamie, “but we wrote it when we were 18 and we’re 24 now. I don’t think we’d be able to write an album like that again and we wouldn’t want to. It’s like Blink 182, writing about school when you’re 40.” He pauses and twists his face into unimpressed bemusement: “That’s a bit weird.”

“Alex’s lyrics are more interesting and personal than ever before,” says Matt, “but I don’t think he’s going to start singing about Brooklyn Bridge any time soon.”

The Americanisation of British bands is something that makes music fans squirm, including drummer Matt. Evidently the motor-mouth of the group, he was once quoted taking the piss out of British musicians who come onstage with Californian accents – something he probably said with no expectation that his own band’s front man would flee to the alluring lights of NYC.

“I want him to get a mid-Atlantic accent!” He jokes, shrugging off his comment: “That would be amazing, but I think he’s so aware of it that he’ll try and avoid it. I want him to get fat as well.”

“If you’re 24 and have the opportunity to travel around and live in amazing places, you’ve gotta do it,” adds Matt, “and I suppose it’s hard not to think ‘oh, he’s changed’ but you’d have to be mad in the first place if you didn’t change. It doesn’t have to be a negative thing.”

Having recorded some of third album ‘Humbug’ in the US, including a spot of production by Queens of the Stone Age front man Josh Homme at the infamous Rancho De La Luna in the California desert, the Monkeys were keen to get back on home ground, and the second night of the Humbug arena tour saw them call in on very familiar turf; Sheffield Arena.

“It was quite peculiar to start with,” says Alex, “we haven’t played in Sheffield for more than two years and we’ve certainly never played in the arena before. The only one time I’ve ever been there in me life was to watch WWF Wresting when I was seven and I went as one half of the Legion of Doom, my favourite tag team. I went as Hawk and my friend Bobby went as Animal with the face paint and everything. Sadly there was no face paint this time but the crowd seemed to enjoy it anyway.”

“It’s always a bit different playing your home town. It’s like when you plan a really good New Year’s Eve and it’s inevitably shit,” laughs Matt, “but it was an amazing night. We avoided doing arenas for as long as possible because most people’s most memorable gigs are the little ones, or people saying ‘oh I remember when they first came to wherever…’ But you can only put it off for so long, because you can’t keep pissing people off by playing venues that can only fit 900 people. Especially in Sheffield when you’ve got 500 names on the guest list!”

Arctic Monkeys’ relentless successes were put on pause briefly in 2008 when Alex announced that he would be taking a break from the band to work on another project, The Last Shadow Puppets, with The Rascals’ front man Miles Kane. Their retro, orchestral, Bond-theme of a record, ‘The Age Of The Understatement’, was discreetly recorded in France and soared to number one in charts out of nowhere, but it seemed like a bizarre move at the time. Why would the lead singer of the most successful band in the country want to work on another project entirely?

“We started recording the album without knowing if it was going to be released. We certainly didn’t expect to tour it. I think what was good about it was that no one knew we were doing it. We got to go to France, it was like a big secret and there were no expectations on us, and that was refreshing for me at that time. It was really enjoyable and satisfying, I’d love to work with Miles again, I think one day I will.

“We had very specific ideas of what we wanted to do and, to fulfil that, strings and an orchestral element was required, as was learning how to sing in a different way. I wouldn’t take any of those elements to the Arctic Monkeys; the four components offer enough. That’s how I distinguish between the two.”

Tonight the atmosphere at Wembley Arena is wild with excitement as the curtain rises to reveal those four components as they plough into the mature, haunting tones of ‘Dance Little Liar’; a song that showcases Alex’s superb song writing skills and reminds the fans that if they came for Arctic Monkeys circa ‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’, they’re in the wrong place. Luckily, anyone that came to revel in former glories would have been quickly converted to the Monkeys of 2009, as they prove once and for all that they’re getting better with every record.

As the show comes to an end, canons shoot tickertape fireworks into the atmosphere in time to the epic ‘Secret Door’ chorus. Every heart in the room misses a beat; partly from the shock of the explosion, party in marvel at the triumphant spectacle. As the paper snowstorm settles, it feels like an ironic joke that everybody is in on. A cheeky comment on the fact that these unassuming Northern lads have got a live show worthy of Britney Spears.

Taking all the dramatic light shows, ticker-tape parades, arena tours, celebrity girlfriends, orchestral side-projects and trans-Atlantic lifestyles into consideration, you’d be forgiven for painting Arctic Monkeys as good boys sold out, victims of their own success, alienating the kids that fell in love with them in the first place. But this plainly isn’t the case.
Are Arctic Monkeys losing touch with the great British public? Eleven thousand rowdy fans, scrapping in circle pits, lobbing pints of beer into the air and singing along to every word in their best Sheffield accents say: “No.”

Photos: Gavin Watson