FEATURE:
Dancing Shoes
Arctic Monkeys’ Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not at Twenty
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THIS must rank alongside…
the best, most influential and important debut albums of the past twenty years. On 23rd January, Arctic Monkeys’ Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not turns twenty. Led by the brilliant Alex Turner – a genius poetical mind whose lyrics offer this relatable and compelling glimpse into everything from modern youth to faded dreams -, the Sheffield band released this complete and astonishing debut. Preceded by two incredible singles, I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor and When the Sun Goes Down, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not went to number one in the U.K. The quartet of Alex Turner, Jamie Cook, Andy Nicholson and Matt Helders released this ageless masterpiece. The songs still sound so engrossing and playable. The nuance of the compositions and the beauty and wit of Alex Turner’s lyrics and vocals. Named Album of the Year by, among others, Time and NME, it also won awards at the BRITs and GRAMMYs. It also won the 2006 Mercury Prize. Proof that this album was something very special. The astonishing accolades and incredible commercial is wholly justified! However, whereas some bands would crumble under the pressure and rush-released a follow-up, Arctic Monkeys put out an equally brilliant but different album, Favourite Worst Nightmare, in 2007. They are still together today, and they headlined at Glastonbury in 2023. 2022’s The Car is their most recent album, though you feel they may release another this year. There are few bands as consistent and intelligent as Arctic Monkeys.
As Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not celebrates twenty years on 23rd January, I want to explore the album through features and reviews. I want to start with a feature from 2016. A decade after one of the greatest debut albums of modern times, we learn how Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not started life. It was not the case the band came onto the scene and were instantly brilliant. There were a few years of them finding their feet and honing their craft:
“They were rubbish,” friend and fellow musician John McClure remembered when asked how the Arctic Monkeys were during their early years. “But you knew they had something… It was pretty shambolic, but at the same time there was an x-factor there. You could tell they had something going on.”
Incredibly, at the beginning of this year their debut Whatever People Say I Am That’s What I’m Not turned ten years old. It would be an album which arrived amongst almost rabid fever pitch, as fans and media alike all wanted a piece of British music’s next ‘big thing.’
The quartet had spent the previous few years firstly learning how to play their instruments, and then travelling around the country performing at any pubs or clubs that would have them. From there, they gradually stumbled upon a sound and identity which would go on to see them release a generation-defining and chart-topping debut. But just how did the four teenagers from Sheffield do it?
All four members; Alex Turner, Matt Helders, Jamie Cook and Andy Nicholson had agreed to commit a year, before they went off to university and full-time work, to try and make it as a band. Early on their set lists were littered with covers of The White Stripes and Jimi Hendrix, alongside a few of their originals. But it wasn’t until one chance night in Turner’s local pub where he found himself watching punk poet John Cooper Clarke that things really began to come together. A self-professed tipping point for the aspiring singer, it was from here where he began to emulate the poet’s unique literary style within his own burgeoning lyric writing.
“One night it was The Fall playing, and Johnny Clarke was opening. He came on with a plastic bag full of these scraps of paper. His hair was branching off, and he had these little blue glasses and drainpipe pants,” Turner told Spin. “It was like, ‘What is that?’ And it just blew my mind, I couldn’t stop watching. Guinness was overflowing all over my hand. It was just one of those moments.”
Around this time the band began to record their first demos, which they funded themselves as they all held down regular part-time jobs in the meantime. It was these which gained them the attention of manager, Geoff Barradale, who signed them after only their third gig together. And finally it was through him and his industry connections that they were able to make a string of other demos which then catapulted them into the public’s attention.
The album made an instant connection as it was the sound of youth distilled into music. There was angst, enthusiasm, mistakes, obnoxiousness, excitement, trouble, arguments and naivety almost at every turn. It captured the zeitgeist of those adolescent moments so well in fact, that Turner has admitted at times throughout his career he and the band have struggled to perform the songs live.
“It certainly feels like we’re doing a cover version to some extent. But it’s the best cover version anyone’s going to get,” he told Billboard. “The thing that gave that first record its oomph was the fact that we were playing to the very limits of our abilities from the moment the album starts. All that enthusiasm and naivety cannot be replicated.”
After their first single I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor went straight to number one in the UK, it was clear that the band were about to live up to the hype. The NME championed them as “our generation’s most important band” and the mad scramble to find out anything and everything about them got underway. However, the one story that emerged out of the hype fully-formed was that they were the first band from the Internet to make it big. They were dubbed as a ‘Myspace band’ and their success was seen as either a novelty or a danger to the entire music industry, depending on who you believed”.
I am going to come to a feature from Far Out Magazine from 2021. Marking fifteen years of Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, I do wonder how people will reflect on this album for its twentieth anniversary. How Arctic Monkeys look back on that time now. It was clear that the band made a huge impact on a generation. They were speaking for them and gave them a voice. I think that is still happening today:
“For those who were gladly awoken and swept up in this new wave of indie rock, it suddenly not only made sense of the working-class adolescence that lay ahead but coloured it with the fluorescent palette of piled-up passions. The visceral imagery in Turner’s early trademark tirades of snarling slack-jawed tongue-lashings was not just the sort that you could easily absorb and cast into a movie-of-the-mind, it was more so the prose material for an auteur director to tell the very tale of the life you were living. It certainly wasn’t dull realism either; it held all the power of a punch-up and all the drama that the fateful crossroads a coming-of-age proves to be. Those burly bothersome bouncers and weekend rockstars were not just people you could imagine, but gals and guys you, unfortunately, knew by name. Turner took-up where his hero John Cooper Clarke had left off, who in turn had been inspired by the soot-covered sonnets of Baudelaire, making Al just the latest in a long line of loveable reprobate reveller’s from the demimonde to propagate the poetry of the street, his wordplay very much the ingrained language of youth culture.
They were a band that only five years earlier had first picked up their instruments and in that short time curated the competency in musical craft to concoct thunderous crescendo’s like ‘A Certain Romance’ and race through the power chords and pentatonic that gives ‘Dancefloor’ its rhythm, yet still exudes the green-as-grass enthusiasm of lads very new to the field. From that very first drum blasting blitzkrieg of ‘A View From’ the romping energy never lets up, but beneath the blood guts and vitriol, there’s a reverie of melody that seems to capture the in-house nostalgia of memories not yet made, that sepia-toned sanguine feeling, that seemingly abides through youth until those wistful daydreams never matched, crystalise as the real thing in the lines around the eyes of adulthood. It is an album that smacks of adolescence, like an uppercut of post-pubescent exuberance to the jaw, ringing out a lyrical verse from the always wet but never rainy nights under the streetlight glow.
Not only was it relatable, but it was also this infectious feel that made it resonate with so many. It vibrates on the same frequency as those first furious fistfuls of goodtime snatched in the booze-fuelled bliss of weekends cathartically contrasting to all the unsalvageable memory-less days of unaccounted for deadtime in the Monday-to-Friday hours of moments passing but seemingly bereft of life. It’s not just the soundtrack inexorably woven into these weekends but in some mad way the very raucous echo of all that fuck-about fun. The album was far from a mournful forecast of the adult life the average working-class youth had to look forward to, but rather a more hopeful race to the next weekend. The songs smell of menthol cigarettes and taste of near-poisonous 2-for-1s, without ever being crass or cringe-inducing like the cheap imitations that would follow, stinking of too much antiperspirant and put-upon swagger.
The legacy of Whatever People Say I Am seems not only to be the arrival of a new generation but also the departure of the last of its kind. The scene now seems so devoid of a mainstream conquering voice that connects with youth or a coherent trend for the kids to cling to.
This may partly be owing to the industries reluctance to invest in self-fashioned scoundrels, in favour of more reliable engines of income, but this current lack of a culturally synonymous music scene has uniquely permeated the era as a whole. After all, it would seem since the advent of pop culture and history has ostensibly been defined much more so by music than politics or world events. You hear ‘the sixties’ and one of the first words brought to mind is ‘swinging’ – running alongside the apocalyptical tragedies of that decade is the great jaunt of peace and love, high on war surplus and psychedelics. And so on… all the way up to 15 years ago with the hair-bear-bunch of swept fringes, skinny jeans and fuzz-pedalled production. Following that, it seems to be a lot harder to identify prevailing music cultures, simply because there doesn’t seem to have been one”.
I am going to end with a feature from MOJO, where we hear about the making of a classic. Matt Helders from the band looks back at their 2006 debut. How it took off and was this huge sensation. But the band wanted to move on, as they had been living with the songs for over a year at that point. I will move to The Guardian, and their 2006 five-star review for Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not:
“Their debut album suggests there is plenty more that is remarkable about Arctic Monkeys. In recent years, British rock has sought to be all-inclusive, cravenly appealing to the widest audience possible. Oasis started the trend, hooking mums and dads with familiar-sounding riffs and "classic" influences, but it has reached its apotheosis with Coldplay, who write lyrics that deal only in the vaguest generalities, as if anything too specific might alienate potential record buyers. Over the course of Whatever People Say ..., you can hear the generation gap opening up again: good news if you think rock music should be an iconoclastic, progressive force, rather than a branch of the light entertainment industry.
Alex Turner can write lyrics that induce a universal shudder of recognition: Britain's male population may grimace as one at the simmering domestic row depicted in Mardy Bum ("You're all argumentative, and you've got the face on"). For the most part, however, anyone over 30 who finds themselves reflected in Turner's stories of alcopop-fuelled punch-ups and drunken romantic lunges in indie clubs should consider turning the album off and having a long, quiet think about where their life is heading.
Meanwhile, Arctic Monkeys' sound is based entirely on music from the past five years. The laconic, distorted vocals bear the influence of the Strokes. The choppy punk-funk guitars have been filtered through Franz Ferdinand, the frantic rhythms and dashes of ska come via the Libertines. Turner's refusal to tone down his dialect probably wouldn't have happened without the Wearside-accented Futureheads. Thrillingly, their music doesn't sound apologetic for not knowing the intricacies of rock history, nor does it sound wistful for a rose-tinted past its makers were too young to experience. Instead, Arctic Monkeys bundle their influences together with such compelling urgency and snotty confidence that they sound like a kind of culmination: the band all the aforementioned bands have been leading up to.
You could argue that, musically, there's nothing genuinely new here. But you'd be hard-pushed to convince anyone that Whatever People Say ... is not possessed of a unique character, thanks to Turner, who comes equipped with a brave, unflinching eye for detail (in Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured, a taxi queue erupts into violence amid anti-Catholic invective), a spring-loaded wit (Fake Tales of San Francisco advises hipsters to "gerroff the bandwagon, put down the 'andbook") and a panoply of verbal tics that are, as he would put it, proper Yorkshire: the words "reet", "summat" and "'owt" have never appeared in such profusion outside of the Woolpack.
He's also capable of more than one-liners. A Certain Romance is an insightful, oddly moving dissection of the chav phenomenon. It keeps spitting bile at a culture where "there's only music so there's new ringtones", then retracting it a few lines later - "of course, it's all OK to carry on that way" - as if the narrator is torn between contempt and class solidarity. Eventually, the latter wins out: "Over there, there's friends of mine, what can I say, I've known them for a long time," he sings. "You just cannot get angry in the same way." It certainly beats guffawing at chavscum.com.
At moments like that, Whatever People Say ... defies you not to join in the general excitement, but it's worth sounding a note of caution. We have been here before, a decade ago: critics and public united behind some cocky, working-class northern lads who seemed to tower effortlessly over their competition. The spectre of Oasis lurks around Arctic Monkeys, proof that even the most promising beginnings can turn into a dreary, reactionary bore. For now, however, they look and sound unstoppable”.
Speaking with MOJO, Matt Helders (Arctic Monkeys’ drummer) told how this new and loyal; Internet following and two incredible singles helped propel Arctic Monkeys and their debut album to these incredible heights. Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut album in U.K. history. You can see why people fell for the band and connected with the album so hard in 2006. Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not arrived at the prefect time and captured the imagination of millions:
“The first thing we released ourselves was Fake Tales Of San Francisco and From The Ritz To The Rubble. That’s when I remember thinking that the lyrics had stepped up a bit. I knew exactly what Alex was referring to because we were all experiencing the same thing. Now it’s more ambiguous, and in some ways more personal, but then he was writing for us and our friends. When we first recorded them and heard them back that’s when I realised, ‘Oh wow, he can really put some words together!’ A song like A Certain Romance was so personal to us, but Alex articulated it in a way that I could never have done.
Much like when the internet stuff took off for us, it wasn’t this master plan or a stroke of genius. Writing about what we knew seemed like the natural thing to do. We were all into American hip-hop at the time and that’s what the American rappers we were listening to would do. We had other influences like The Smiths and Elvis Costello so fortunately we didn’t go too much in that direction and end up being a really terrible nu-metal band.
We had nothing to do with the whole MySpace thing, a friend of ours just stuck ripped the MP3 and stuck them up on this site. We had no clue. People talked about us making it outside of the music industry, but we just thought that’s how you did it. We didn’t know anyone else in a band.
I didn’t feel any pressure going in to record the debut album, but I don’t know if, again, that’s because we were in the eye of the storm. I remember we had a friend who came into the studio and he said, ‘I bet your first single goes top 10’. We were like, there is no way that will happen, we’re just an indie band. I said to him, ‘If we ever get to Number 1 I’ll play a gig in just my football shorts and nothing else.’ It comes out and goes straight to number one. I did it, I kept my end of the bargain up.
We were just focused on what we were doing and had no expectations of what that album would become. It was hard to comprehend what it meant. We were all on tour and together and it felt like the whole country was buzzing about this thing. None of us expected it. We put out an EP three months later [Who The F*** Are The Arctic Monkeys?], we were just keen to move on. We’d lived with the songs on the first record for over a year and were writing new ones. We had the conversation to move straight on to the second album. Even if we never made an album that was as successful as that ever again, we needed to leave it where it was and move on. We could have made the same thing again or toured that album for three years, but for us it was more exciting to try something new.
It is funny when people get annoyed when you do something new or different. ‘Oh, they’ve changed, they don’t do this anymore!’ All those old records still exist, they’re still available to listen to and we’ll play some of them. If you want to come along with us on this journey then great, if you don’t that’s fine too”.
I am going to leave things there. On 23rd January, we celebrate Arctic Monkeys’ Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not twentieth anniversary. Without doubt one of the greatest albums ever released, it is still widely played and discussed today. If you have not heard it, then do go and seek it out. So many iconic songs. Aside from I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor and Fake Tales of San Francisco, there is the amazing opener, The View from the Afternoon. The epic When the Sun Goes Down. Astonishing deeper cuts like Still Take You Home and Dancing Shoes. The wonderful Mardy Bum. In a year when so many exceptional albums were released, nothing in 2006 could match Arctic Monkeys’…
SEISMIC debut album.
