A Review of Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (2006)

We're taking something of a turn with this review. Because I already sort of liked Gorillaz and had come around to them during the pandemic prior to my review of Demon Days. And I'd always thought fondly of The Killers in spite of not being as familiar with their first two albums.

Arctic Monkeys, though, I was always certain I didn't care for.

As a teenager, I didn't have patience for a lot of stuff. And one of those things I didn't care for was the sort of loud, drum-thrashing rock and roll of the time period. So the moment I heard Arctic Monkeys, I disliked them. Not hated them, that's too strong a word. I heard it a lot, and maybe there were one or two songs that I liked, but most of it just completely bounced off of me. It just wasn't a sound that I took to, and it's been that way for the longest time.

But I'm thirty-three at the time of writing this. And in the vast gulf of time between then and now, I managed to understand that something can be good even if I personally don't much care for the IP, the genre, the sound, whatever it is that turns me off. So the purpose of this review is less about proving my teenage self was an idiot and more about finding out if, now that I have that ability, I might actually like Arctic Monkeys now.

 

One advantage of being older is that you can actually think to look up the context and history of media you experienced when younger. When you're a teenager - and especially if you're a particularly shitty teenager like I was - you might not care for any depth and can only appreciate things on the surface level. But as an adult, I can admit I didn't know that much about the people behind the band and did a little research before diving into this. 

And quite frankly, if the fact that these guys got famous by sharing their singles via MySpace isn't a fascinating story, then I forgive you, because who the fuck thinks about MySpace nowadays? But the point is, it's an incredibly smart move. Taking advantage of the internet, which was quickly growing in versatility and popularity at the time, and spreading by online word-of-mouth tells you everything you need. These guys are clever and passionate about what they do. They don't ask for record deals, record deals come to them. They're not doing this because they want to be famous or rich, they do it for the craft.

Which, in a world that teeters violently on the edge of anarchy as the bloated elephant of capitalism paws uselessly at the steering wheel, is to be appreciated. There's no pretention about them - they're not going to waste time writing soppy, metaphor-riddled love ballads when they could be smashing out a loud dance-floor sensation or introducing you to more local slang. Even if you don't like the music, you have to appreciate that at the very least.

The whole idea of "working man's music", the kind of tunes and lyrics about what the average joe goes through, isn't new. But Arctic Monkeys, arguably, managed to breathe new life into it by doubling down on the core concept. They're unapolagetically loud, honest and Sheffield. Their songs are all about coming home drunk from a party, getting chewed out by a moody partner, reminiscing about lost youth, complaining about the townies that turn up to ruin your Friday night. Hell, their first album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, is damn near a concept album revolving around hazy memories of drunken nights at the club, on the pull or nursing headaches from the night before.

We've all been there, which is why we relate to music like this. As somebody who spent four years in Sheffield studying for a useless degree, I very much relate - a lot of my night-outs ended in similar fashion. But how does said first album hold up, twenty years on? And does adult me appreciate these songs a lot more than teenage me did? Let's take a look. 

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The View From the Afternoon
The band introduces themselves by sarcastically commenting on how they might not live up to the hype, in the same way that an average night out on the town might not. A good stage-setter, but drags a bit too long for me.

I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor 
One of the band's signature tracks, a high-energy headbanger encouraging the listener to not be a wallflower. Naturally, since this is one of their biggest hits, it's one that I've heard a fair amount already and grown to like.

Fake Tales of San Fransisco
A story of people getting fed up at a shitty concert held by a poseur weekend band. Good tune and also quite funny.

Dancing Shoes
A classic story of going out on the town, seeing a girl you fancy the look of and then completely bottling out of making the first move. We've all been there. Unfortunately, I don't find the song itself that engaging.

You Probably Couldn't See Me For The Lights, But You Were Staring Straight At Me
One of my biggest pet peeves in anything is when people give things obnoxiously long titles for no apparent reason. Therefore, as you can imagine, I fucking hate the title of this song. It's a good track, no real comments to make, but did nobody ask the band to take some pruning shears to that thing?

Still Take You Home
No real notes on this one, either. A ditty about how even an average person looks great after you've had a can or two and their features are obscured by laser lights.

Riot Van
We've all been to parties that went south because the police showed up. This is one of those moments - a sobering, low-tempo and quieter track that encapsulates that cold-water-to-the-face "oh shit" moment when the bastards in blue rear their ugly heads. A good change of pace and put at a good point in the album, but definitely a filler track more than anything.

Red Lights Indicate Doors Are Secured
The album pivots here slightly, talking about the aftermath of a night out instead of the night itself - the banter, the drunken arguments, trying to figure out how to dodge paying for the taxi home. By the time the gang gets their brain cells lined up, it's too late - the doors are locked and they have no choice to ride out their mistake. If you've ever embarrassed yourself in the aftermath of a clubbing session, you'll totally get this one.

Mardy Bum
Another Arctic Monkeys signature songs, a more pop-ish affair (aside from the bridge) about the struggle to communicate with somebody who's naturally argumentative and moody, feeling like you're just going through the motions over and over. Ended up introducing a lot of people to Yorkshire dialect words, which is always fun.

Perhaps Vampires Is a Bit Strong But...
Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner and drummer Matt Helders, in an interview, talked about how condescending the people around them in their hometown were, asking how much the band was making on their early gigs. And now that they're famous, those selfsame people, who clearly had no faith in them or understanding of why they were doing what they did, are now dick-riding and claiming they always supported them. So this song is very much a sardonic "oh, now you support us" from Alex and Matt. Good stuff.

When The Sun Goes Down
The #2 single from the album, a reflection on the darker side of Sheffield nightlife. Sex workers used to ply their trade around the studio the Monkeys practised at, and Alex can only muse on what he sees from his window - his pity for the women who are doing it, his contempt for the scumbag pimps, his mocking disdain for the regular customers in their Ford Mondeos. Its easy to overlook these lyrics, though, because the song is a damn banger from beginning to end, with a natural rise and fall at each end and nothing but high energy in the middle.

From The Ritz To The Rubble
A nice filler track abnout getting turned away from the big, fancy club, only to have a more productive night out at a more down-market local. Just goes to show that you can have fun without going to the places that demand you empty your entire wallet just to get through the door. 

A Certain Romance
I find it rather odd that one of the more layered tracks of the album ends up being at the end. It's simultaneously a dig at the belligerent, drunken chavs who suck the soul out of partying and a swipe at the music industry for churning out artless guff designed only for ringtones. And yet, at the end, the singer admits that he can't be too mad, because some of his best friends fit the stereotype too in both categories. Makes me wonder who in the music industry he was pals with for that kind of commentary.

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I walk away from this album reassured that Arctic Monkeys are, in fact, good. Perhaps still not my cup of tea - the repeated use of loudly-crashing drums grates on my nerves when I just want to listen to the guitar or vocals, and said vocals often get a bit too close to Oasis levels of slightly annoying for my tastes. But I can definitely see how they exploded, how people latched onto them. And I can definitely point to more than two songs on this album and say "yes, this is good" if people ask me about it.

Maybe in future, I'll look up their second album and see where it takes me. Maybe I'll like this more than the first one, in accordance with the law of sequel quality. Maybe it'll be more of the same. Who knows? That's a question for future me, and honestly, fuck future me; he's had something against me ever since he started getting alcohol cravings. 

Next time, I either talk about Outkast, of whom I only know one song, or an obscure concept album from the year 2000 that only appeals to me. Flip a coin.

A Review of Sam's Town (2006)

The Killers are one of those bands that, for me, comes up in conversation now and again. And that's weird, because I feel I should be talking about them a lot more than I do.

The reason being that. for much of the mid-late 2000's, they were huge. One of the biggest bands of all time. It seems bizarre that a Nevada-based band, fronted by a Mormon out of Utah, would end up having such an influence in Britain as they did, but there it is. I wonder, sometimes, if this is how America felt when the Beatles or One Direction crossed the pond the other way and made it big - this mix of appreciation for the musical talent on display and bewilderment as to how it took off as much as it did.

I think the Killers were one of those very few bands I latched onto as a teenager, nevermind the shitty meme songs or disparate singles I fixated on. Again, I was too wrapped up in my own shitty self to pay much attention to pop culture, but I definitely remember liking the Killers a lot - although that was tempered a bit by the exapseration of classic radio overexposure. I couldn't tell you if any of the lyrics spoke to me or if it was just the sound of them, but I definitely remember that they were the band that made me seriously think about what I considered 'good music', outside of niche interests like Gorillaz.

But for some insane reason, as good as their early work with Hot Fuss and Sam's Town, it was their third studio album, Day & Age, that I latched onto. I can't really explain it, but as much as I liked songs off of those first two, I hyperfixated on tunes like A Dustland Fairytale, Neon Tiger, Human and Spaceman. And while it's a good album, I knew for a fact that it wasn't up to the level of the first two albums. My mind was weird when I was young.

Then Battle Born came out, and it just wasn't as good, so I fell of the Killers really hard. But with that level of introspection, I thought I'd give one of the older albums a try - and, on recommendation from my sister Jade, picked the second one, Sam's Town.

 

Sam's Town is a deliberate attempt by the band to get away from their reputation as "Britain's Best American Band". The entire thing is steeped in themes and ideals unique to America - growing up in a small town and wanting to break out, the struggles that come with that conflict, the failed relationships and personal demons that occured in such a place. It's very personal to band frontman Brandon Flowers as a result, who openly admitted that it was an attempt to capture all the major events that got him to where he was at the time of it's recording. I wouldn't put it on the level of something like Pink Floyd's The Wall, but it's definitely something that comes from a personal place, and it can be hard to relate to those kind of themes if you didn't have a similar upbringing.

And while I don't relate, I'm very happy to say that the album makes up for it with an awesome sound. It's a step up for the band's high propduction levels, with a harder, more "rock" sound than even Hot Fuss had, deliberately shunning the synths and vocal effects for a more sincere acoustic performance. All in the name of capturing the "small town childhood" vibe. It's gritty, melancholy and raw, yet punctuated by a poetic lyricism, a combination of flowery yet unflinchingly honest that elevates it a step further.

So let's takle this one track at a time, as before.

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Sam's Town
You gotta have balls the size of a semi truck to put your title track as the first in the album. That's not something a lot of albums do - you normally put it around the middle or near the end of the album to provide a crescendo to the themes and sound the album provides. This is the kind of power move you only do if you know for a fact that the track's gonna be a banger. 

And Brandon had better count his lucky stars, because this song is like a musical cannon blast to the face. A huge, bombastic, warts-and-all anthem to growing up in small town Americana and a perfect summation of the album's themes to come - wanting to break out, failing relationships, the struggle to find identity. Awesome shit.

Although that makes this next track... weird. 

Enterlude
This is just the voice of Brandon welcoming us into the album, set to a humble piano backing. I find it odd that this track isn't the first one on the album, considering that it's entire purpose. I guess Brandon didn't want us to get whiplash going from this to Sam's Town, but then that just results in whiplash the other direction, so I'm very confused by this track's placement here.

When You Were Young
This is one of the Killers' songs, and for good reason. Catchy, soulful and with an unforgettable hook, the song deals with the idea of finding personal salvation in somebody less-than-perfect, who doesn't quite match up to youthful ideals but proves to be exactly what you needed. They don't have to look like Jesus, but they just have to be there for you, and that's alright.

Bling (Confessions of a King)
Brandon claims that this song was about his dad overcoming his alcoholism and rejecting Catholicism to become a committed Mormon when Brandon himself was five. The song reflects this in the internal struggle of the singer, who at times seems to be two voices talking to themselves - one lamenting their poor circumstances, the other telling them that things aren't so bad and there's still a chance for them to get things together. Not my favourite, but it's definitely a powerful song in that context and I wouldn't blame anyone who did name it as their favourite.

For Reasons Unknown
Yet another signature Killers song. Utterly iconic guitar riff plus Brandon's vocals on the inherent pain of falling out of love for no discernable reason make for an unforgettable combo. Out of the (admittedly large) number of Killers tracks I care to go back to, this is absolutely one of the top three.

It does, however, feature the worst rhyne/lyric in the whole album:

There was an open chair
We sat down there, the open chair

Yeuch. Maybe a second draft would have caught this one, Flowers.

Read My Mind
A more low-key track (relatively speaking, the chorus is just as bombastic as anything else on the album), filled with a bittersweet melancholy. It reiterates the desire to break out of the limiting world of the small town that the title track presented, but throws a wrench into the works with the idea of having to leave something fundamental behind to make that dream work. It's all about the struggle to make peace with the idea that two people's dreams are incompatible, and wherever they can still make it work in spite of this. 

And I can't find a way to make this paragraph funny, so here's a picture of a dog in a hat. 

Uncle Johnny
I don't really vibe with this track very much - it's kind of forgettable, and rightly so when you see what songs it shares the album with. Also, it kind of lacks a lot of the poetry of the other songs, in my opinion - it's literally just about Brandon's uncle and his struggles with cocaine addiction, with nobody really knowing how to help him. In an album that's dripping with flowery (hah) imagery, its a bit of a let-down.

Bones
Time for an embarrassing confession. When I first listened to this song, I hated it.

And that was down to a huge, huge misunderstanding of the song's subject matter. Based entirely on the chorus alone, I thought it was about some creepy "nice guy" coming onto a girl who didn't like him. The chorus' use of lurid imagery of bones and skin and insisting it was "only natural" rubbed me completely the wrong way. So for over twenty years, I've hated this song. I hated whenever it came on the radio or on the CD player in the car and I would always push it as my least favourite Killers song based entirely on this premise.

Having re-listened to this song now, as an adult, with full understanding of where the band came from and in a better mindset to listen to the actual song... yeah, I was way off-base.

What I thought was a "nice guy" anthem is, in fact, an open defiance of conservative and superficial views on sexuality that frustrates his desire for intimacy and human contact. The singer isn't being gothic levels of creepy when he presses his lady love for sex, he's appealing to her to join him in an act that throws aside surface-level superficiality and gets down to the "bones" - what we're really about. It's simultaneously an appeal for sincere connection on both the physical and spiritual levels and a rebellion against the small-minded "wait until marriage" mindset that would tar this instinctive desire for contact as a sin.

So, yeah. Turns out, this song rules, actually. And now I hate my past self even more for being such a small-minded, media illiterate scrote who now needs a harder kick up the arse than ever.

Also, the music video has skeletons in it. And, as we all know, skeletons are hilarious. 

My List
Another track that I struggle to maintain much enthusiasm for, in all honesty. I don't even really know what it's about. I think it's about a man trying to keep a relationship from going downhill, but the song itself is pretty forgettable. Not much to say about this one at all.

This River Is Wild
The main attraction of the Killers, aside from their sound, is the poetry of the lyrics. Brandon uses a lot of vague metaphor and imagery to leave the songs open for interpretation, even if he is trying to carry a specific theme across. For me, this song reiterates the album's overarching theme of Brandon's small-town roots, now focusing on the push-pull of his conflicting his desires. He wants to step outside his small world and experience the wild river of life, but he fears the risk that comes with it, of being swept up by the currents of the wider world and falling into failure without the safety net of his community to catch him.

Powerful stuff. And the song's genuinely not bad, either, but it obviously doesn't hold a candle to stuff like Bones, For Reasons Unknown or When You Were Young.

Why Do I Keep Counting?
A final reiteration of the album's themes. When one goes into the world, they're still full of so many questions about what to do and how to face the challenges that will inevitably be thrown at them. Brandon muses on wherever he'll have enough time to do the things he hopes to do, wherever he can overcome his personal demons to find what he wants, and struggles with aformentioned questions, wondering if his father (or possibly God?) could have given him the answers to conquer his fear. 

Exterlude
Firstly, I don't think Exterlude's a word. Secondly, this is just Enterlude again but with more of the usual bombastic instrumentation and an extra verse tacked onto the start. I feel this would have worked better with some slight lyrical tweaks and - more important - if Enterluide had been the first track.

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Going back to this album is... weird. I definitely remember listening to it before and liking it, but I don't remember taking it in very much. Granted, there's a fair chunk of songs here that aren't classics, but it's still a pretty great album - Bones, When You Were Young, For Reasons Unknown... they're all there and they're all iconic tracks. And now that I have a much better mind for understanding context and metaphor, it's all the better on the relisten. But I wonder now how it measures up to the first album, Hot Fuss, and if there's an argument to be made for which is better. Maybe the answer lies there, or maybe teenage me was fuill of it as usual.

Next time - Arctic Monkeys' "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not". A band I know that teenage me didn't gravitate to, so let's see if adult me can appreciate it better.