T'ARCTIC MONKEYS' 'difficult' third album arrives with a bizarre press release describing time out spent hunting giant ant-eaters in darkest Bolivia and attempts to complete a concept album surrounding 'The Life & Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit'.
Aside from the fact it's a good belly laugh reading it, this amusing but (I'm assuming) spurious tosh suggests that – even as members of the big league - Sheffield's favourite sons can still come armed with both their sense of fun intact and their tongues planted inside their cheeks. There had been a lot of persistent muttering about how album number three would be a lot darker and heavier, but don't panic. They haven't turned into Metallica yet.
We do, however, need to acknowledge that the Arctic Monkeys circa 2009 are never going to make another 'Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not.' That's fine. Even though your reviewer vividly recalls the buzz and expectation surrounding the release of that debut and the joy of listening to them delivering the goods in spades you can't go back, especially when its' follow-up 'Favourite Worst Nightmare' found them in a typical second album dilemma of whether to move on or consolidate with more of the same.
So the ominously-titled 'Humbug' finds them moving on rather more decisively. Yes, it was recorded in the States with (mostly) Josh Homme at the controls at his Pink Duck studio and it's also true that the band stayed at the notorious Joshua Tree Motel where Gram Parsons checked out for good back in 1973. However, if you're anticipating either a Queens of The Stone Age album with Mark Lanegan hovering menacingly in the background or else a scuffed, Americana-tinged record you'll be disappointed. Or very relieved, depending on your standpoint.
Funnily enough, Alex Turner's Last Shadow Puppets album is as relevant as a stylistic pointer as anything else much of the time. Although Matt Helders' propulsive, tom-heavy drumming marks it out as a Monkeys number, the opener 'My Propellor' is another of those would-be Spy Themes young Alex is so good at these days. With its' John Barry-style baritone guitars and Turner's wonderfully suggestive lyrics (“coax me out my love...and have a spin of my propellor”), it's saucy and suave in all the right ways. 'Secret Door' comes from a similar school of poise and is eminently cinematic, while the wonderful 'Dangerous Animals' is driven by another angular John Barry riff and one of Turner's best new observations: “you should have racing stripes, the way you keep me in pursuit.” Excellent stuff and then some.
There are places when Homme's guiding hand leads the lads into darker, more oppressive vistas, but it's a largely a marriage of give and take which benefits both parties. Tough, vivid set pieces like new single 'Crying Lightning' and the fuzzed-up guitar overload at the end of 'Fire & The Thud' are notable advances, while it's clear from the awesome thunder that he's coaxed from the drum sound that Josh Homme's Christmases have all come at once courtesy of Matt Helders' incredible playing.
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The heaviosity pays major dividends on 'Pretty Visitors' where the band smash in like a Panzer Tank taking out a Reliant Robin and Turner forsakes his guitar to concentrate on some wonderful lyrical dexterity. The song features another of his immortal one-liners (“what came first? The chicken or the dickhead?”) and the tequila, peyote and steroid steel in the music works amazingly well. It doesn't always come together so well, mind. 'Potion Approaching' swaggers around proudly on its' hard, but sinewy groove but struggles to go anywhere of note and just ends up running out of steam.
Fortunately, it's the only obvious below-par moment and it's easily usurped by a couple of vintage Arctics' outings. 'Cornerstone' proffers a welcome lightness of touch and returns the boys to the days of scummy men and Mardy bums in style (“she was close, closer than a ghost, but my chances turned to toast when I asked her if I could call her your name”) while the closing 'The Jeweller's Hands' is the record's widescreen tour de force, all shadows and glorious enigma and people falling off ferries in the dead of night. It's eerie and utterly delightful, surely one of the most handsome devils our Sheffield heroes have unleashed thus far and an eloquent pointer to what they can still achieve if they want it as badly as I imagine they still do.
No, it's not the same as it was and this writer, for one, is happy for it to be that way. Because while 'Humbug”s title suggests a gloomy, Scrooge-style scenario, the Arctic Monkeys' potent third coming delivers tidings of comfort and unbridled joy every bit as much as it brings darkness and mystery. Alex and co don't need to fear the ghost of Jacob Marley just yet.
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