59 – Arctic Monkeys – Tuesday, December 8, 2009 – 9:30 Club – DC

On CD, Arctic Monkeys are catchy, twisty, fizzy, and sly. As with Franz Ferdinand, every time you listen to these hip Brits, you’re in for a good time. Or so I thought…

It turns out, though, that in concert, Arctic Monkeys are loud, scratchy, repetitive, and unpleasant. And they never say a word to the audience. They mumble “thank you” at their mic stands a few times, but this hardly feels like genuine appreciation.

Frustrating as the concert was, it had not been a Bob-Dylan-level failure. The first thing that salvaged it was that I had never connected as deeply with Arctic Monkeys as I had with Bob Dylan. I had less to lose. The band also did not seem hostile towards the audience; they just seemed inordinately focused on the songs. The final, significant difference was that Monkeys frontman Alex Turner did not sound like a serial killer. That’s always a plus. ;)







Grade: D+

If you’ve never heard Arctic Monkeys before, check out “A Certain Romance.” The video appears below, as does my reaction from three years ago, when I first encountered on Magic’s Pledge Survey mixed CD. Here’s what I heard and wrote back then:

You have to divide this song into two parts: the first minute and a half, and the last four minutes. The good news: both parts are awesome. The first part is all instrumental: an emphatic drum beat, a more restrained guitar solo -- it totally draws you into the song. The second part is a clever commentary on people's tendency to latch onto and fight for whatever they think is the "authentic" musical genre. They're so busy worrying about their "classic Reeboks, knackered Converse, or tracky bottoms tucked in socks" that they miss the romance of what they're listening to. Music should be about discovering new and exciting sounds. In their world, though, "there's only music so that there's new ringtones." (Great line!)

The final, intriguing thing about "A.C.R." is its last verse. Lead singer Alex Turner (thanks, Wikipedia…) could've made the song a diatribe against people who conform, but he chooses not to. People who are likely to offer diatribes are those who demand "broken bones" for their new ringtones, who scrap for their bands with "pool cues in their hands." Turner, though, resists such violence and recognizes that, in the end, if those type of people are your friends, you've gotta forgive them: "Over there, there's friends of mine. What can I say, I've known them for a long, long time / And yeah, they may overstep the line / But I cannot get angry in the same way. Not in the same way." (Genuinely insightful!)