All aboard the Arctic Monkeys’ sci-fi strike
WHEN they first broke through more than a decade ago, the Arctic Monkeys sang of mardy bums, taxi ranks and nightclubs.
Their songs were so gritty and local that the Sheffield band later dubbed themselves chip shop rock ’n’ roll. They have slipped their original moorings since then.
Having made one album of Californian desert rock (Humbug) and another that arrowed in on modern R&B (AM), they stopped fashioning their music from Sheffield steel long ago.
They set their sights even further afield on their first album in five years, and their strangest to date. Tranquility Base was the spot where Neil Armstrong became the first man to walk on the moon, and the album has a suitably spacedout feel.
The departure can be traced back to the Steinway piano singer Alex Turner, 32, was given as a 30th birthday gift by his manager.
Although he hadn’t played piano since childhood, he wrote on the Steinway instead of guitar and captured the preliminary results on an old tape machine.
Fleshed out by the other three Monkeys, producer James Ford and a horde of guests, including additional keyboardists James Righton, of the Klaxons, and Tom Rowley, Turner’s piano thumbnails form the basis of Tranquility Base, with the searing, indie-rock guitars of old absent.
With the singer dividing his time between London and LA, it’s tempting to depict Tranquility Base as the work of a reclusive rock star in his Californian bolt-hole, but Turner is too canny to take on the mantle of a latter-day Brian Wilson, the Beach Boy who searched for seaside inspiration by placing his piano in a sandbox.
Given that the Arctic Monkeys were one of the first bands to gain attention via the internet, the shimmering title track’s swipe at technology has an empty ring, even though it again impresses musi- cally. Sci-fi references abound, with Four Out Of Five dryly looking at space tourism and lunar gentrification, where ‘you could meet someone you like during the meteor strike’ and a moonbased taco bar is favourably reviewed online — ‘four stars out of five’.
For a band who built their reputation on guitar anthems like I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, the shift is bold; similar to the moves by Pulp on This Is Hardcore.
As they shoot for the stars, the Arctic Monkeys might have sacrificed their immediacy, but this is a rocket ship – fuelled by innovation – which is heading to Dublin in September.
RY COODER’S first solo album in six years has a reassuring ring. Covers-heavy, its simple, poignant songs are underpinned by his trademark slide guitar, with son Joachim adding drums.
Having shone fresh light on vintage Cuban sounds with 1997’s Buena Vista Social Club, Cooder, 71, does the same for American spirituals and old-time country songs here, putting a modern spin on traditional church music (black and white).
His blues playing comes to the fore on gospel singer Blind Willie Johnson’s Everybody Ought To Treat A Stranger Right, while country musician Blind Alfred Reed’s You Must Unload skewers those ‘money-loving Christians’ who put materialism before faith.
Cooder’s days carousing with the Stones are behind him, but he remains a vital force.