Brick by Brick by Arctic Monkeys: Video and Review

This video for the new Arctic Monkeys song was posted on Friday afternoon, without any advance notice. Is it a track off their new album? Or simply a taste of what to expect? On first impression, I wasn't as excited by it as I was by the first single from their previous LP, Crying Lightning, though the last LP, which suffered from too much tuneless riffola, was itself a little disappointing. My issue with Brick by Brick is that the Arctics are increasingly sounding like the Deserts. As they continue to sound more and more US-stoner-rock, they are in danger of losing all the Englishness, which gave their brand of rock much of its charm in the first place.

This is what too much time in the desert sun sounds like. Don't get me wrong, I like Monster Magnet, et al, but I don't need a British tribute to them, or their genre. Sadly, the only quirks that remain here are musical and unnecessary mid-song proggy noodles at that. Still, I reserve final judgement until I hear the new album in its entirety.

The band play at home in Sheffield in June and headline the V festival in August, which, surprise surprise, has already sold out.

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.

20 sung and 20 unsung classics

I went to see the Arctic Monkeys last night.

Not really. I went to see The Stranglers last night. I would have liked to have seen the Arctic Monkeys but a) they’re not playing and b) had they been, I wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a ticket, unless I began non-stop calling Ticketmaster from 8:55am on the day tickets went on sale.

No, a friend of mine had some free tickets to see The Stranglers at Shepherd’s Bush Empire and the friendly and sociable thing to do was of course to accept the offer of one. I’ve seen them live a few times now over the years. On the first occasion Golden Brown was in the top ten. I think it was 1982? I think it was number two in the charts at the time? Anyway, I was at secondary school, for sure, and it was one of the first gigs, if not the first gig, I ever went to. Either that or the Kinks? Both were at the Guildford Civic Hall.

I love the Stranglers but I pretty much draw a line at the end of side two of La Folie. Beyond that I liked the odd song; I feel the same about Always the Sun as I do about Avalon by Roxy Music. I like it mostly out of loyalty. I am also uncomfortable about the idea of seeing them without Hugh Cornwell. This is the main reason that I wouldn’t pay to see The Stranglers these days. To me, it would be like seeing Queen without Freddie Mercury or dare I say it, Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant 'cos yes, I hear from my news-hungry wife that Page, Jones and Bonham Jnr are actually considering embarking on a tour without Percy).

Clearly, the moshing 40-somethings in front of the stage, indeed the majority of the audience last night, couldn’t have cared less about Mr Cornwell’s absence. I know even stubborn old me began to feel just a bit petty, especially once I found myself singing along to hit after hit. I enjoyed it after all. I got over my prejudice. Temporarily at least, I forgot about missing Cornwell’s tones and presence and wit. It was entertaining. There were 'hits' (I use the term relatively) that I hadn’t anticipated too like Tank and their Doors-like cover of Walk on By; both sent shivers down my spine. This is a sure sign of my nostalgic pleasure.

Now, The Stranglers’ last hit was in 1990 and was a cover version of 96 Tears which reached number 17 in the charts (remember The Charts?). Two years earlier they scored their second biggest hit with a cover of All Day and All of the Night, which reached number 7, but that was it for the Stranglers’ hit machine. It ran out of pop-petrol. 1990 was also the year that Hugh Cornwell went off to pursue a solo career. He hasn’t managed another hit either. He hardly needs one though; bearing in mind he still reaps the rewards of the Stranglers continuing to tour his songs.

The mid to late 80s we’re obviously a difficult time for the Stranglers. They were after all a dire time for music generally. The Stranglers were looking for a new post-Golden Brown identity, they needed to prove they had longevity. Always The Sun got them some recognition in the US but wasn't big in the UK. The hits during this period were few and far between. Hugh Cornwell clearly didn’t believe in their longevity, not in a creative respect anyway. I couldn’t tell you if the songs were still any good. I had moved on to other things. It’s not unusual though, in fact you could say it’s common for bands to eventually lose their hit-making ability, facility and credentials. For some, success itself, takes the edge off the words and music. Others simply run out of ideas. The Stranglers had a good run of twelve years or so. They went from pub-rockers to near-chart-toppers and managed to pull off a 7/8 time-signature and a song about heroin in the same hit record, Golden Brown – I hear it now mostly when I’m shopping at my Sainsburys Local. I don’t think they know about the subject matter.

Now if the Stranglers hadn’t have gotten so famous, would they still have been as prolific? Would they still have written Golden Brown and Always the Sun? Let’s say they never made it far enough out of Guildford. Or that they bubbled under but never quite made it. Would they have matured out of their punk sound without chart success and gone on to improve their songwriting without it too? Would they still have a hit or two up their sleeve? Would they still be going? Is there a Stranglers out there, that didn’t make it and who still have a wealth of great songs in a box in an attic somewhere? I think there must be.

But would anyone be interested? Well, a good song is a good song. It is timeless, isn’t it? It just needs the right promotion. Wouldn’t it be great to put a CD-compilation together of lost gems. Great obscure moments in local rock history. 20 Unsung Classics, I’d call it. I’m sure they’re still being played out there on old tape-cassettes. I know, ‘cos I have a demo by a band called the Contours from Guildford, which dates back to the New Wave era. I still put it on from time to time ‘cos I like the songs. The sound qulaity isn't great but there’s a couple of really good songs on it.

If you’ve got a lost gem, a hit that should have been, drop me a line at tobyburton@rock-til-you-drop.com. I'd love to hear it, and about it.