Obviously, no one gave the Arctic Monkeys this message. With each of their first four albums, they appeared to have thrown out the playbook and tried to fit their talents into a new and interesting mold. They've been snotty teenage punks, world-wise social critics, desert mystics and crooning pop stars. True to form, "AM," released Sept. 6, sees the Monkeys trying on a new hat. Or, more accurately, a new jacket. A black leather one, to be specific.
From the first licks of opener and second single "Do I Wanna Know?" it's clear that the wistful, pretty pop of 2011's "Suck it and See" is in the rearview mirror. The song's sleazy, fuzzed-out riff soundtracks singer Alex Turner's tale of drunken, desperate obsession. It sounds like glam gone wrong, the cosmic boogie of T. Rex's "Mambo Sun" brought crashing down to earth.
The closing track, "I Wanna Be Yours," perfectly mirrors the desperate, tortured love of "Do I Wanna Know?" You can't help but wince as Turner sings "I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust," especially knowing that he's right back where he was a few songs ago.
But where "Do I Wanna Know?" cakes its unrequited love in grime, casting it as an hopeless, dirty addiction, "I Wanna Be Yours" is achingly pretty, all mournful guitar and slow-motion heartbreak. It's hard to tell which approach is more devastating, but the two songs bookend the album perfectly.
"One for the Road" absolutely drips with atmosphere; pinging guitar duels with flickering falsetto as Turner vamps like a greaser Don Juan. It sounds like four 20-something Brits doing their best Prince impression, and though the Purple One casts a long shadow, the Monkeys more than hold their own.
"Arabella" is an infectious ode to a cosmic lover, a woman whom Turner describes as "magic in a cheetah print coat." The song pirouettes on a dime, exploding from stripped-down verses into foot-stomping choruses. Turner shows his knack for simple, expressive solos with a fuzzy, ringing barnburner.
Drummer Matt Helders has always been the Monkeys' secret weapon, but his influence on the band's sound has changed. The manic jitter of his early beats has given way to a sinister, sexy stomp, the caffeinated hi-hats of "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" replaced by a primal bass-snare crash. His ability to control the pace is as strong as ever, and his beats (and his falsetto backing vocals) steal the show on several of the album's best tracks.
For example, "R U Mine?" is an absolute headbanger. Its crashing cymbals and thundering guitars come absolutely unhinged as Turner stands at the center of the storm, desperately reaching for something to cling to. It sounds like Led Zeppelin covering the Black Keys. Or perhaps it's the other way around. Either way, it's one of the best things the Monkeys have done since their 2006 debut.
"Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?" is a masterclass in stripped-down funk, a sleazy booty call with an irresistible bass line. "Snap Out of It" is poppy and infectious, with a bouncy rhythm and a sing-along chorus.
Turner's gift for storytelling is especially strong on "No. 1 Party Anthem," a sarcastically titled dirge that lays bare the strip club sleaze that "AM" inhabits, exposing its desperate vapidity. "It's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good," he sings. But it's hard not to feel bad for the character he's created because we know that, beneath the leather jacket and behind the sunglasses, he's desperately lonely and self-destructive. The cohesive and compelling narrative bolsters the band's stellar musical chops, and it sets "AM" aside as one of the Monkeys' best efforts.
In a fall that's going to see a lot of big name releases, "AM" sets a high bar. I have a feeling almost all of these songs will end up in heavy rotation for me this term, and I can't wait to see what hat the Monkeys try on next.
