The Mojave Desert in South Eastern California is one of North America’s most popular tourist spots. Its scenic beauty and dusty open landscape is home to countless native plants, four picturesque national parks, a handful of lavish lakes, the Hover Dam and the gambling gutter of the universe, Las Vegas. More recently however, Sheffield’s finest export, the Arctic Monkeys, found solitude and stimulation on those very plains. But what were Turner and co doing 5258 miles from their Yorkshire turf?
Located in the sandy scenes of the Mojave is a small house that’s since been converted into a mystical desert beacon for inspiration-searching musicians. Owned and manned by Josh Holme of Queens Of The Stone Age, the Joshua Tree Studio became a visionary symbol of hope for the Arctic Monkeys whose overseas pilgrimage changed the sound of a band who, on their third full length studio effort, have returned home darker and ready to take on the world, one again.
In the music industry, like in fashion and technology for instance, focus is often jaunted. Don’t get me wrong, nostalgia is a wonderful thing, it really is, but instead of looking in the caldron of the past for inspiration the Arctic Monkeys have done something completely different. Their new record, ‘Humbug’, takes a full-fronted leap into the future as a visionary statement of their relentless creativity and hunger to blossom and grow as a band whose ambition knows no boundaries.
The development from album number one to number two was obvious. They showed an ability to flourish given their own space. From a chipper, upbeat debut of social commentary to a more experimental collection of slightly darker songs, heavier guitars and an atmospheric album closer, they’ve always been a sprightly bunch. Growing closer over the years has allowed the band to become a tighter unit, but ‘Humbug’ comes as a surprise. Enter the haunting operatic-rock growl of a new, better Arctic Monkeys.
‘Pretty Visitors’ picks up certain attributes from b-side ‘Nettles’ with it’s roughly tripped out riffs and undeniable lyrical wisdom. Choir-like hollow chants bellow during a very metal-ish breakdown and all those ’Black Sabbath’ comments of Turner’s begin to make sense. The record’s first single, ’Crying Lightening’ displays the grandiose ability of this urban poet with it’s darkly romantic playground twinkle, developing from the well constructed social observations we’ve previously heard from the wordsmith, the lyrics become sharper, edgier and unaffected by preconceptions.
Influences for this album vary. ‘Secret Door’ bellows Turner’s distain for the celebrity lifestyle, the red carpet and the fickle characters whose friend-on-recognition ethos will be short lived. Taking a guess and stating that this ballad-like swoon is about Miss Alexa Chung would not be too far fetched, ‘Grabbed my hand and made it very clear, there’s absolutely nothing for us here’ sings Turner as he labels these monotonous paparazzi mugs ‘Fools on parade’.
‘Dance Little Liar’ changes direction once again with a light gothic-like psych approach, while ‘Corner Stone’ marks Turner as truly being a man in love. Not being one for the spotlight, it’s sometimes hard to determine the cynical sarcasm of this band which at first appears like rudeness. We’ve all seen the awkward interviews and carefree replies but as a front man and lyricist, Alex Turner has poured some of his finest written literature into these songs.
Holmes input on this album is clear. His ability to adapt as an inventive artist and exude enthusiasm has allowed the Arctics to open previously unexpected doors, but he cannot receive all the praise. The record’s final track, ‘The Jeweller’s Hands’, embeds itself as yet another show stopping album closer for this band. It’s eerie glare and glockenspiel underbelly are ghostly to say the least, but they prove to be no match for Turner's scribbled down thoughts. He’s matured from tales of backstreet boozing and barnies over birds into a man who views the world in a very unique way and tells it better than anyone.
To get taken back by a record is rare. The last time something this innovative hit the shelves was in 2006 and Jon McClure’s brother was on the front of it. This time round though, it’s not going to be such a smooth ride. To all those who adored the whimsical penning’s of the bands debut be prepared for something utterly different. It’s an album that shows a band restless with staying stagnant and safe in what they know. It’s a documentation of growth and excitement, an interesting spectacle of musical evolution that’s not protected or secure with its standard stylistic novelties. The boys may be a little apprehensive with the release of this album, but know this, the determination and drive of their tentative and experimental third effort will not necessarily be what you expect, all the same, the beauty of this haunting squeeze is going to be inescapable and irrefutable.
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