Arctic Monkeys [Zachery Michael]
WHEN the chords of 505 rang out across Highgate Festival a few weeks ago, it was a welcome surprise to find a talented young group of schoolboys on stage making an impressive attempt at the rousing Arctic Monkeys track (opening with a Pixies song from more than twice their lifetimes ago, another inspired choice – I hope we hear more from them soon).
While not one of the Monkeys’ biggest hits, the song from 2007 album Favourite Worst Nightmare is a firm fan favourite, a concise confession of infatuation that builds until you have no choice but to sing your lungs out.
Such is the power of Arctic Monkeys when on form and they certainly were at Emirates Stadium on the closing weekend of their five-night stint there.
While banter was kept to a minimum and it’s never quite clear if Alex Turner is taking his persona to another level of irony or if he has become the character he has created – half-crooner, half rockstar, a master of poses – the set list was one to keep the crowds happy.
Shrewdly limiting tracks from latest more sedate album The Car to a minimum, the song selection was a tribute to the band’s career and metamorphosis – a progression from the indie-rock days of Nightmare and Whatever People Say I Am to the lyrically enticing and stunning baselines of AM through to The Car.
While the limited interactions between songs left some slightly longer than comfortable silences between songs – at times punctuated by monosyllabic observations from Alex (perhaps he was saving his voice, which failed him before their Dublin show), the wit and humour of the lyrics in the likes of Do I Wanna Know, Why Do You Only Call Me When You’re High? and – a delight to hear live – the mischievous Mardy Bum, a total encapsulation of the northern spirit, serve to remind you of the band’s ever-present eye glinting spirit.
The band are a tight outfit and Alex has become a master at mussing up his hair, taking iconic power stances and contorting his vocals to new places. And while it sometimes feels like he has been unable to break out of the persona he became during the last outing of his superior side project The Last Shadow Puppets, perhaps that isn’t a bad thing.
The songs stand up for themselves lyrically, the mutation of the vocals add a new dimension and the sharp instrumentals are capable of sending the crowd into a frenzy in seconds, mini mosh pits erupting in writhing circles across the stadium, before gently nudging them into a dazzling show of sparkling phone lights for the slow ones.
Earlier, The Hives, hype band of choice for rock bands for many years did what they do best, stirring up the crowd with their high-energy rock, magnetic personalities befitting the big headline slots they have never quite reached.
