Bearing in mind they've only released one paltry EP previously, it's hard to credit the weight of expectation hanging over South Yorkshire boys-in-waiting THE ARCTIC MONKEYS. As this second instalment prepares to nestle in the racks, UK gigs are regularly scenes of utter mayhem, the press are falling over themselves in the crush and Monkeys fans are already establishing a reputation for the kind of devotion that makes Libertines fans look blase and reserved.
Normally this sort of eye-of-the-hurricane frenzy would be enough to sow seeds of serious doubt in this cynical reviewer's mind, but for once he finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly with the NME et al, for The Arctic Monkeys are indeed the sort of brilliant, cheeky chappies any society should embrace unreservedly. And, boy, do they know everything there is to know about being young, frustrated and being utterly thwarted where trying to get off with the opposite sex is concerned.
Or, as New Order's Barney Sumner once so cogently noted, "Let's face it birds are the driving force". And indeed, in Monkeys lore, young ladies are indeed the be-all and end-all, with singer/ lyricist Alex Turner's failure to connect with one particular object of desire being documented to perfection during the controlled bomb of frenetic pop excitement that is "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor." "Your name isn't Rio, but I don't care for sand/ Lighting the fuse might result in a bang," leers Alex before his bid for attention gets snuffed out like a regular damp squib. Yes, we can all relate to that one, and the band's tight-as-the-proverbial-gnat's ramalama is the perfect vehicle to power it along. Ace, as Graham Coxon would no doubt say.
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Even better, though, is the immortally great "Bigger Boys And Stolen Sweethearts" on the flip. It finds the Arctic Monkeys coming on strong like The Smiths' kid brothers and Alex spinning an even-more resonant tale of losing out to a hulking bruiser in the passion stakes. "They got engaged, no intention of a wedding/ He's pinched your bird and now he'll probably kick your head in", cries an incredulous Turner as he realises his hopeless position, before ruefully noting "She wagged English and Science just to go in his car." Magic.
Final track "Chun Li's Spinning Bird Kick"s title suggests it might be a distant cousin of Ash's "Kung Fu", but is actually a taut, catchy and funky-as-hell insturmental which proves that, even sans genius dialogue, The Arctic Monkeys can cut the Colman's with serious aplomb.
From what I hear this is merely the tip of a very large iceberg, too, so I think we can dispense with the pleasantries. The Arctic Monkeys are gonna be absolutely enormous and, for once, it's possible to believe we can rely on them not to blow it. Succumb without the fear of ugly reprisal, folks.
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