d
ARCTIC MONKEYS
WHATEVER
YOU SAY I AM, THAT'S WHAT I'M NOT (2006)
RATING: 6
PLAY THESE: I BET YOU LOOK GOOD ON THE DANCEFLOOR, FAKE TALES OF SAN FRANCISCO, A CERTAIN ROMANCE
SKIP THESE: YOU PROBABLY COULDN'T SEE FOR THE LIGHTS, RIOT VAN, WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN
The hype surrounding this album is a travesty. After all, these guys are just a low budget indie band with a handful of decent songs, and no proven track record to speak of. They're an upstart group of kids barely out of their teens, a band that may or may not turn out to be good once they've had a chance to develop. It's pretty unfair that music mags like NME and Q magazine are mentioning this band in the same breath as Oasis and The Beatles, as any fool can see that the band is clearly not in the same league as the aforementioned groups. Yet, this album is now the fastest selling debut album in British music history, and the band has been hailed the saviors of rock across the UK, so I guess we have no choice but to judge this album by the ridiculous standards established by the music press. That's why it pains me to report that this album is a major letdown. Let me put it to you this way, if you consider a thirteen song album with a half-dozen filler tracks to be one of the greatest debut albums of all-time, then you need to take a remedial course in rock history. This isn't Definitely Maybe, this isn't The Clash - hell, this isn't even Hot Fuss. What it is is something young, energetic, and vaguely exciting, but that's about the extent of it. Not exactly a turning point in music history, if you catch my drift.
In terms of the sound, Arctic Monkeys (terrible name innit?) are basically a mixture between Franz Ferdinand, The Libertines, and The Strokes. The Franz Ferdinand influences can be heard in the vaguely "dance"-ish rhythms on many of the tracks, while traces of The Libertines can be discerned in the punk-style aggressive guitar riffs that dominate all of the songs. In terms of the Strokes influences, Julian Casablancas has clearly played a role in shaping the vocals of lead singer Alex Turner, who has a similar stoned, tone-deaf approach to singing. Like Mr. Casablancas, Turner favors a distortion effect on his vocal tracks (probably in an attempt to cover up his singing deficiencies), and he seems to have a vocal range of about four or five notes at best. As can be expected, the quality of Turner's singing places severe limitations on the music of the Arctic Monkeys. Basically, the songs don't really have melodies, because Turner appears to be incapable of actually singing any. All of this adds up to Whatever You Say I Am being a very repetitive, one-dimensional album. All we get is loud shards of punk guitar played over a quasi-dance beat, with some tuneless, half-sung vocals thrown in for good measure, seemingly as an afterthought.
Some critics have gone out of their way to praise Turner's "everyday" prose as insightful and witty, but to my ears it's pretty unremarkable. Just take a listen to 'Riot Van,' with its pointless, go-nowhere tale of the arrest of a bunch of underage drinkers, or else the appallingly stupid 'When The Sun Goes Down,' which is a well-intentioned diatribe against johns and pimps that demonstrates that the band has nothing to offer except paraphrased Sting lyrics (sample lyrics: "And I've seen him with girls of the night/ And he told Roxanne to put on her red light/ They're all infected but he'll be alright/ Cause he's a scumbag, don't you know"). Oh, and one more thing: any band that writes songs called 'Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured' or 'Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But..' is asking for a severe beating. D-U-M-B.
To be sure, there are a few enjoyable moments to be found - you just have to look hard for them. In spite of its Franz Ferdinand "bum bandit" theme/sound, the cross-over hit single 'I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor,' is a lot of fun, with a lot of relentless energy and an effective hook. The lead guitar stinks though - very amateur, very aimless. The best song on the album, however, is 'Fake Tales Of San Francisco,' which has a slower, more deliberate tempo than most of the songs on the album, but it still rocks pretty hard, especially in the build-up at the end. It's far and away the best song on the CD. The groovy, syncopated 'Dancing Shoes' is another Franz Ferdinand-type song, but it's a keeper, with a sparser sound than most of the tracks, and works quite well. The lead guitarist even rattles off a decent solo for a change. Unfortunately, the album really dips in the middle, and the only song of note in the second half is 'A Certain Romance,' which closes the album in effective fashion. In the end, this album is truly nothing special. Recommendable only to the sheep-like 'indie kids' out there who buy this stuff to simply look cool and "open minded." I'm sure you'll say you like it no matter what you actually think, so I'm prepared to take heat for this review. Six out of ten.