IN REVIEW: Arctic Monkeys - "The Car"

 

It took a little longer than usual to get around to this review, for a few reasons; I started a new day job about a week before Arctic Monkeys' seventh album was released, then pretty much immediately caught Covid-19 (aside from a few rough days it wasn't too awful, although there's a lingering cough that still persists every now and then as I write this). Coming out of that, in getting used to the fluctuating hours and lost sleep, I kind of got beaten out of my previous routines. The other reason, however, has nothing to do with my personal commitment levels and everything to do with the record itself.

I have found it an incredibly daunting task to listen to this album all the way through, because it just doesn't hold my interest. The head scratching left turn Arctic Monkeys took in 2018 on Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino wasn't a one-off, with the band reprising their roles as a burned out lounge act once again on The Car. To be fair, there are subtle differences; this time out it's not a concept album based around lunar holidays, and guitars do appear sporadically in an attempt to mitigate the dullness.

Fans expect the unexpected from Arctic Monkeys; past the relative sameness of their first two albums, they have spent the majority of their career zigging and zagging between genres and moods. The hazy trippiness of Humbug, the bubblegum and blood of Suck it and See and the nocturnal lust of AM were all different degrees of deviation from what was expected, but they all worked because of the confidence of the performances and the clever songcraft that those albums benefitted from. Then came Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino and, while it does have its defenders, for most it was a step too far outside the lines and/or a cute experiment that wasn't quite to taste.

Therein lies the reason why The Car is so crushingly disappointing; after all of the years of tinkering with their sound and gleefully subverting expectations, the sound that they've apparently landed on to expand upon is arguably the least interesting they've tried to date. Even with the small adjustments, this is by and large a sonic retread of the band's most boring album, and that wouldn't be so much of a problem if they hadn't become renowned as one of the world's most exciting bands; consider Matt Helders, an amazing drummer whose talents have been snuffed out over the course of the last two Arctic Monkeys albums in favour of the simple, lifeless rhythms these songs call for.

At this point, I realize I haven't talked much about the songs themselves, and there are a few that go down easier than others; that said, there's no point in singling them out in detail or giving a track-by-track rundown as I normally do, since in the context of The Car everything kind of just coalesces into a thick beige mush. So instead, I'll just say that the vibe of lead track There'd Better Be a Mirrorball is perhaps the best encapsulation of what the album offers, the guitar on I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am does the best job of sprucing up the sound and Hello You hints at a take on this sound that absolutely could have worked.

Look, I fully own up to the fact that my reaction to The Car paints me as one of those fickle fans who clamour for the "good old days", when Arctic Monkeys were bashing out sweaty late night anthems and radiating cool; I acknowledge that people change and so do their tastes. Perhaps, if not for this obsession with cinematic lounge pop, Arctic Monkeys wouldn't make records at all anymore. This band is well within their rights in following whichever muse they choose down whatever path it leads them, but I am not contractually obligated to go there with them without complaint. 

In that spirit, here comes my rant; usually when a band veers so far off course that they start shedding fans, there's at least a semblance of what made them good to hang on to, even the slightest reminders of what drew you to listen in the first place. On The Car, Arctic Monkeys only have their name to do the job of reminding. These ten songs represent a clean decoupling of the band from their peak, the polar opposite of what brought them to the dance. Where there used to be white knuckled Saturday night thrill rides, now lazy Sunday countryside drives. Where there used to be scrappy, tossed off tunes that impacted with energy and danger, now beautifully constructed pieces that seldom end up evoking any emotion. Where they used to be the leather-clad bad boys offering pills and pints in the pub, now they're the shadowy men in suits and sunglasses at the cigar club, sitting with rail thin models (also wearing sunglasses) eyeing you and your date up and inviting you to their suite for designer drugs and a screening of Le Cercle rouge because they dig your vibe, man.

They're not the first band to run screaming from the fame, burrow deep into their own idea of escape and end up completely disconnected from where they started, and they won't be the last, but Arctic Monkeys have unmistakably proven with The Car that they have no interest in turning back now; this is the road they've chosen and this is where they're going whether you're up for the trip or not. My opinion is a simple crack in the pavement that won't deter them from anything, nor would I mistake myself for the type whose opinion matters in terms of someone else's creative outlet; all I can do is wish them safe travels as I kindly ask them to pull over and let me out.

October 21, 2022 • Domino

Highlights There'd Better Be a Mirrorball • I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am • Hello You