Arctic Monkeys, Wembley Arena, 26 August 2029

My name is Toby Burton. I am 42, and I am an Arctic Monkeys fan.

There’s nothing unusual about that, is there?

Well, there obviously is ‘cos last night at the Arctic Monkeys gig at the Brixton Academy, I was not surrounded by my greying, balding, sagging peer group, as I usually am at gigs these days.

Now, had it not been for my wife, who knows all the best news sites, and some of the worst, and who picked up on this fansite-members-only show, I would probably have had to wait until something like 2029 to finally get to see the Arctic Monkeys. This is mainly 'cos I won't pay the over-inflated prices of gig tickets these days, but also 'cos I'm so out-of-touch with gig news that shows are often sold-out by the time I get round to attempting to buy a ticket.

So come the summer of 2029, the boys are in their 40s, and doing a greatest hits comeback tour which includes 3 nights at Wembley Arena (if it’s still standing – Ed). The thing is they have gotten too big for their comeback-boots and have added a fourth night which doesn’t sell as well as they expect. This is how and when I eventually get a ticket. I am 62, and most of those in the audience are still youngsters at 45-50.

Anyway, last night’s gig is a warm up for their appearance at the Reading Festival on the weekend. Tickets have gone on sale, on a first come-first-serve basis, maximum of two per person, to fansite members, which includes my wife. Tickets are named and ID is required for entry. While this seems like a palaver, this is a great way to beat the touts, and those buying tickets to sell at inflated prices on the internet. I hate those bastards.

The support is Very Special Guests that turn out to be a ‘supergroup’ called 'Them Crooked Vultures' comprising Josh Homme of QOTSA, Dave Grohl, John-Paul Jones of Led Zep and some other guy, who co-produced the Arctic Monkey’s lastest LP with Homme.

Now you might think, this is going to be great, what a line-up! Well, like the star-studded Poseiden Adventure, it is not. It is a total bore. The sound in the half-full Academy is atrocious. This is not helped by the fact each and every member of the band has to play constantly through the set. There is no room in the music. Grohl is tubthumping and shows no sophistication or creativity, it’s all clichéd drum fills and lacks any sensitivity. He is no John Bonham, that’s for sure. It worked for Nirvana, but it doesn’t work here. It only exacerbates the dreadful grunge-prog-rock-dirge. Occasionally, you hear the faintest hint of a song. But it is soon gone, or bypassed, in favour of further stuttering turgid over-complicated riffs and ‘bits’. They play for an hour. An hour of new riffs, new ‘bits’ and time signatures, and a few useless guitar solos. I am so bored I can’t stand it. The audience at the front are stationary. Probably gobsmacked that all this talent cannot make anything resembling a decent noise. But they cheer and applaud because they are English and polite like that.

We wait at least thrity minutes for the stage to be re-set for the Monkeys, and the wait is worth while. They come on and immediately sound fantastic. Which is a hard task in the echoey, capacious Academy. Their noise is a thing of beauty, so well crafted. Tight as you like. It has definition and clarity. It has tune. It's the sound of real buddies. Of best friends. It doesn’t harp back. It looks forward. It a new noise. No one makes a noise like this.

They open with My Propeller off their new album Humbug. They follow it by making Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand, sound like their own compostion, before playing their current single Crying Lightning, which employs Turner’s now classic vocal octave-gear shift, something Stephen Malkmus and Pavement perfected too. They play a good mix of songs from their three albums and unlike Them Crooked Vultures, use down-tempo numbers to break up the barrage of rock noise a bit. They encore with 505, a song that has clearly developed into a live favourite for both band and audience.

I didn’t buy or get into the first Arctic Monkeys LP, until after I got into the second. As is usual with me, I tend to be so cynical of bands hyped by the media, that I choose to stubbornly ignore them. I then find myself having to investigate them retrospectively. I did this with The Smiths too. Serves me right, I suppose. I bought Favourite Worst Nightmare on the day of its release, can't remember why, and it is now one of my favourite LPs of all time. I prefer it to the first LP. I’ve yet to fully listen to the new album, cos I'm looking for 45 minutes to sit down, alone, to give it my undivided.

Back to the gig.

I am so inspired by rock music like this. Alex Turner’s wit and verboseness inspires me and takes me back to the days when I could pour lyrics out. A couple of joints and the pen wouldn’t stop. Then it was a case of editing them into a song. I miss that.

Matt Helders is an astonishingly good drummer. It’s the negative space. It’s what he doesn’t play, quite often that makes what he proceeds to play so fucking good. His snare too is so on-it. And his drum patterns make beautiful sense of Turner’s riffs which veer from the childishly simple, to the jerkingly offbeat.

They’ve grown their hair too, no doubt inspired by the time spent in an American studio in the desert recording there new album. If I was 21, I’d be doing the same. But I am 42, and simply cannot.

Oh the hair. I’ve said it before, I miss the hair.