Arctic Monkeys Continue to Evolve

In July, Arctic Monkeys’ lead vocalist Alex Turner talked to NME about the band’s latest album, offering up a brilliant and teasing summary of the work as being “a Dr. Dre beat, but we’ve given it an Ike Taylor bowl-cut and sent it galloping across the desert on a Stratocaster.”

“AM”—Arctic Monkeys’ most anticipated studio album since their record-smashing debut “Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not”—is a logical next step in their development, rather than a drastic change in orientation. “AM” continues in the direction of “Humbug” and “Suck It And See” by finally completing Arctic Monkeys’ departure from garage rock. Fortunately for the English quartet, this continuity points down the right path, implying a constantly evolving discography rather than creative diffusion.

One of the most striking differences on “AM” is the meticulous production that reflects the tastefully subtle influences of hip-hop on the album. The opening “Do I Wanna Know?” immediately introduces a full and wet bass drum and a snare that sounds more like handclaps. “Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” also infuses the traditional drum set with hip-hop influences. In addition to richer percussion, the track seems to lift a tongue-in-cheek bassline and simple drum pattern from Eminem and Dr. Dre’s “The Real Slim Shady.”

As a result of these stylistic changes, the tracks on “AM” are often percussively understated, with the album’s focus moving away from drummer Matt Helders, who was both the buoy and the engine of their previous albums. In this respect, “AM” is most like 2009’s “Humbug,” but even on that album, Helders’ technicality made important contributions to the album’s dark character. The role assumed by Helders on “AM” is completely different—with the exception of “R U Mine?,” the tracks feature a drum beat that remains structural rather than embellishing or driving. Although this restrained role fits the relatively restrained feel of “AM,” it’s hard not to miss Helders’ fantastic drum work on more monotonous tracks such as “One For The Road.”

The hole left behind by the lack of complex percussion, however, is compensated for by Turner’s seasoned songwriting. “AM” touches on many of the same themes as previous releases did—unrequited love, femme fatales on pedestals, and social solitude create an emotionally-charged punk dystopia. “No. 1 Party Anthem” serves as the traditional ballad that has appeared on every Arctic Monkeys album to date. Turner’s lyrics quickly switch between preening self-description (“Leather jacket, collar popped like Cantona… sunglasses indoors”) and painful honesty (“Drunken monologues, confused because it’s not like I’m falling in love / I just want you to do me no good / And you look like you could”) against a stickily romantic sea of sound that could split a crowd into pairs of slow dancers.

The meticulous construction of the lyrics and sound world is also reflected in the instrumentation of “AM.” Both “No. 1 Party Anthem” and “Snap Out of It” feature a piano part that seems to act as more than a simple embellishing instrument. On the ballad, the piano takes the place of background vocalists, responding to each of Turner’s lines with a pulsing remark of its own. On “Snap Out of It,” the piano plays the part of a rhythm guitar, using a bouncing chromatic riff to give the track a lighter, bar-rock feel.

However, listeners have to wait until the penultimate track to hear the record’s best-composed song. Turner’s sultry voice and splashes of wobbly guitars on “Knee Socks” come to a spine-shivering climax with the hushed entrance of Josh Homme (of Queens of the Stone Age) singing at the bridge. As a haunting female choir repeats, “You and me could have been a team, each had a half of a king and queen seat / Like the beginning of ‘Mean Streets,’ you could be my baby,” Homme’s distorted psychedelic echoes of the chorus elevate the track through the bridge and climactic outro. The symphonic nature of “Knee Socks” makes it the most intricate and striking track Turner has written to date.

Just how far Arctic Monkeys have come cannot be fully appreciated without a look back at the band’s history. A single listen of their debut album’s final track, “A Certain Romance,” is proof that the talent was always there—cutting lyricism, driving energy, and a tragic lightheartedness make the five-and-a-half minute track seem over too quickly. With these tools, Arctic Monkeys have reinvented themselves four times, once for every subsequent album, each time attacking the same themes and ideas from slightly different angles. Despite being Arctic Monkeys’ fifth studio album, “AM” has the same fire that four 20-year-olds from Sheffield had in 2006—but over the past seven years, the quartet has mastered the flame.

—Staff writer Se-Ho B. Kim can be reached at sehokim@thecrimson.com.