A lounge-rock-esque, 10-song crooner wouldn’t usually be the expectation for a band once known in the 2000s for their fast-paced garage rock endeavors that oozed with personality. However, others’ expectations are not at the forefront of British rock band Arctic Monkeys’ priorities.
Last Friday, the band released their seventh studio album succinctly titled The Car. This concise yet simultaneously slow-burning effort has sparked conversation regarding the band’s progression from fast and heavy rock music to a more introspective, cinematic experience. In August, the release of the James Bond-esque lead single “There’d Better Be a Mirrorball” drew fans in, despite being divisive for those who are married to the band’s previous sound. While I would argue that the album opener’s string-heavy, stunning and brooding production showed a linear progression from the band’s 2018 album Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, some fans were hoping for a return to the band’s heavier sound.
The Car is not always slow, however. Transitioning to the second track “I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am,” frontman Alex Turner gifts listeners with one of the band’s grooviest songs yet, complemented by lyrics reflecting common themes on the album of uncertainty and curiosity. However, the tone of uncertainty does not carry on to the next track. In “Sculptures of Anything Goes,” Turner directly addresses the audience, most of whom are longtime Arctic Monkeys fans who miss the band’s old sound. He implores listeners to dig deeper into their new music and understand that they are a more mature band than they once were, at times using a falsetto voice over uniquely minimalistic production.
The next track, “Jet Skis on the Moat,” is a slower track with groovy riffs from guitarist Jamie Cook. It contains some of Turner’s most vague songwriting yet. While there is much to interpret as he sings about nostalgia and change, the song has drawn some criticism for overusing its hand in abstraction.
“Body Paint,” however, is the track to pick things up. Despite its slow burn, it keeps the listener engaged throughout, as Turner details the experience of a partner having an affair with someone else while he pretends not to know about it. The track builds to a passionate refrain that is simultaneously rock-fueled and orchestral. As the frontman sings “There’s still a trace of body paint / On your legs, and on your arms, and on your face,” the rest of the band collaborates to cut the tension of the lyrical content.
The nostalgia-fueled title track “The Car” discusses the concept of childhood disappointment, and how forced scenarios of celebration cause frustration at a young age. This slower and more atmospheric venture may not be suitable for those who prefer the band’s old fast-paced sound. It is, however, ideal for those who enjoy Turner’s state of minimalistic melancholy. This somber tone carries to “Big Ideas,” guided by subtle orchestration and a smooth pace set by drummer Matt Helders. This is one of the more lyrically straightforward tracks, with Turner’s meta-commentary on feeling stuck and uncertain while writing the album.
One of the strongest tracks off of the album takes form in “Hello You,” a song that manages to surpass the groove of “I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am.” The reflective lyrics contend with the desire to let go of your past while simultaneously wishing to embrace it. The instrumental arrangement infuses groovy percussion, even including a bongo drum, with swooping violins and a variety of other orchestral elements. This combined with its sharp lyrical metaphors creates an amalgamation of the album’s best features.
“Mr. Schwartz” is a track that I described as “a grower” upon first my listen before coming around to understand its meaning. It is simplistic in terms of production, primarily driven by an acoustic guitar and Turner’s lyrics. They focus on a character who is bound by the expectations of a large audience, potentially acting as a stand-in for the frontman. All of the reflection, nostalgia and uncertainty of the album’s lyrical content culminate in the final track “Perfect Sense.” It shows the band members in a state of satisfaction with their reality, along with a sense of clarity regarding the direction they have chosen for the album. The band’s choice to place this as the final track indicates that it is meant to address the doubt that they felt and the expectations that surrounded them in the process of making the album.
The Car is not reminiscent of the Arctic Monkeys’ old sound. In their 20s, they had more of a proclivity towards the youthful essence of nightlife, particularly in their firecracker of a debut album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. The themes of sex and partying will understandably fade into the background as the band members grow older. However, a natural progression has always been in store for them. Each album takes on a slightly different pace and brings something new to the table, including the desert-rock darkness of Humbug and the summer-esque sound of Suck It and See.
Introspection and nostalgia come naturally to Alex Turner, and the band members suit this aptitude well. Had this album been a carbon copy of their sound 15 years ago, it would’ve lacked the authenticity of Turner’s stream of consciousness and desire to reflect on his surroundings. There are valid criticisms of The Car’s slow pace and its fairly vague lyrics, and while I would argue that their older albums are their best work, there is still much to discover with each listen of their latest record. It is a refreshing development from a band that has always remained true to their vision.
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