Graphic by Mari Al Tayb ‘26.
By Ella Jacob ’24
Arts & Entertainment Editor & Copy Editor
The Arctic Monkeys, a rock band from Sheffield, England, is perhaps best known for revolutionizing the English music scene, beyond rock, in the late 2000s and early 2010s. Akin to “Beatlemania,” the influence the band had on garage rock permanently shaped the production of rock music. With the release of “AM” (2013), their fifth studio album, fans recognized the band as an instant classic, with the album representing the coolness of revived indie rock that the band became known for. The record saw tremendous success worldwide, as it premiered #1 in the U.K. and 10 other countries, according to NME. Yet, with the production of “Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino” (2018), their sixth studio album released five years after “AM,” the band abruptly transitioned from the heavy guitar and drums fans had grown accustomed to. Jazzy and vintage synths combined with frontman Alex Turner’s wavering cadence have led to the creation of an album, and a shift towards a genre, better defined as psychedelic rock.
With this recognition that the band had begun to explore a genre outside what many have grown accustomed to, the release of “The Car” on Oct. 21 left some with the expectation that they would default to their typical indie-rock style, while others believed that this jazzy exploration was here to stay. The latter proved correct.
“The Car,” totaling 10 songs, 37 minutes and 23 seconds, is the band’s seventh studio album. If one is to be frank, the sound of a car engine sputtering may be more enjoyable than the initial listening session of this anticipated album. Strung together by funky synths and orchestral instrumentals, each song sounded like it was meant to be the first song on the album, ending with an anticipated buildup for a story that never came. By this, each one had a sublime “Bond” element, almost as if it were about to open the door towards British intelligence agent James Bond, contemplating some intricate affair on a far-off island as a mysterious, synthy orchestra accompanies him in the background. Albeit an enticing scene and mood, the sequence of said songs fell short of establishing a coherent, decluttered sound.
“There’d Better Be A Mirrorball” opens the album, becoming the first number fans had heard from the band in years. Arguably one of their best songs since transitioning to a more jazzy-funk sound, “There’d Better Be A Mirrorball” is a 10/10, whether working as a single or elevating the album as a whole. Establishing the aforementioned Bond mood, the song begins with an absence of vocals, only orchestral strings, followed by an arcane drum and piano intermission. Then, Turner reveals those palliative vocals, proclaiming, “Don’t get emotional / That ain’t like you.” The second time Turner references that he wishes his partner would “walk [him] to the car,” heavier strings are introduced that continue throughout the song, establishing a more dramatic, less funk-orientated sound than one may expect from the rest of the album.
Lyrically, especially when accompanied by a sustained orchestral ballad, it takes the listener on a beautiful, mysterious ride. Most notably, when Turner initially sings, “So if you wanna walk me to the car / You oughta know I’ll have a heavy heart / So can we please be absolutely sure / That there’s a mirrorball?” He later follows with, “So can we please be absolutely sure / That there’s a mirrorball for me? / Oh, there’d better be a mirrorball for me,” asking whomever he is talking to — Is this worth it for both of us? Do you care about me? Heeding the last lyric, Turner ensures that there will be a mirrorball for him.
This mystifying tune abruptly transitions to a 70s-funk melody with the introduction of “I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am,” the second track on the album. If David Bowie and Isaac Hayes had a child that grooved under a disco ball to Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition,” this song would be that melodious incarnation. While it remains relatively upbeat throughout, the song becomes a bit moodier towards the end, then returns to its quintessential sanguine sound, a theme that is persistent across most tracks on the album.
Another sharp transition from one vibe to another, “Sculptures Of Anything Goes” would fit right in with the “Stranger Things” soundtrack, evoking a sci-fi film scene, where the protagonist comes to a dawning realization of the danger of some high-intensity situation. Lyrically, the song feels like a mess, especially when combined with intense, anxiety-filled synths and instrumentals. With the first stanza setting the scene, it is no wonder that it may throw listeners off upon initial encounter: “How am I supposed to manage my infallible beliefs / While I’m sockin’ it to ya? / Performin’ in Spanish on Italian TV / Sometime in the future / Whilst wonderin’ if your mother still ever thinks of me / Hallelujah.” If one is dedicated enough to analyze these lyrics over many listening sessions, coalescing with other fans on the “r/AlexTurnerIsAGod” Reddit thread, then “Sculptures Of Anything Goes” would appeal more to this class of listeners.
With introductory chords that can only be described as sounding like the beginning of a cheap, vintage porno, “Jet Skis On The Moat” may make fans audibly laugh. Continuing with the funk theme present throughout the album, Turner avoids sticking to one pitch, pushing this to be a song distinctly filled with oscillating falsetto. Strings are introduced with the lyric, “Is there somethin’ on your mind / Or are you just happy to sit there and watch while the paint job dries?” Turner may be alluding to his hope that by the time the paint dries, the watcher should have made up their mind not only about how they feel about where they are, physically and mentally, but how they feel about Turner himself. The ending develops into a softer tune, with more resounding drums and a sustained guitar chord drowning out the silence from the absence of synths, appropriately leading into the next song, “Body Paint.”
Introduced with decisive piano keys and a simple drum beat, “Body Paint” feels like futurism-lounge music, where one may dance with their partner in a manner comparable to “New Girl’s” Jess and Nick’s unperturbed and dawdling chicken dancing. Turner opens in a capricious falsetto, “For a master of deception and subterfuge / You’ve made yourself quite the bed to lie in,” soon followed with a chorus that details, “So predictable / I know what you’re thinking.” The bridge, “I’m watching your every move / I feel the tears are coming on / It won’t be long / It won’t be long / Straight from the cover shoot / Still a trace of body paint / On your legs and on your arms and on your face / And I’m keeping on my costume / And calling it a writing tool / And if you’re thinking of me / I’m probably thinking of you,” is introduced with an orchestral interlude, followed by delicate drums and strings and the introduction of a slightly harsher guitar. A feminine voice in the background reverbs “keeping on,” after Turner sings said phrase, softening the song and introducing another character, highlighting that Turner is not alone in his observations. The reference to paint in the bridge alludes to the title of the previous track, perhaps emphasizing that as the paint has dried to completion, so have the decisions of Turner’s lover — perhaps, those decisions have left a permanent impression on his partner, one that Turner cannot see past. Toward the song’s end, the guitar has its solo, with Turner fading slightly into the background. “Body Paint” offers fans a glimpse of the band’s rock-centered past, while preserving the novel jazz-funk that the band has established as their preferred route.
A Pink-Floydian take on their new sound, the sixth track “The Car” begins with an acoustic guitar and soft piano overture, adding moderate drums and strings throughout the song. Absent any funk, any synths, “The Car” anticipates the listener to focus on the lyricism of the song, with the presence of “The Wall”-esque instrumentation serving as a cushion to anchor your focus toward the verses. Yet, the lyrics are jumbled and incoherent, almost as if Turner is speaking for the sake of speaking, not believing the conviction behind his words. With lyrics such as “But it ain’t a holiday until / You go to fetch somethin’ from the car,” and “Travel-size champagne cork pops / And we’re sweepin’ for bugs / In some dusty apartment, the what’s-it-called café / You can arrive at 11 and have lunch with the English,” there is not much to analyze, even upon a second, third or 10th listening.
“Big Ideas” follows the same melancholic mood established in the track prior, serving as an aurally pleasing transition. When analyzing the song from an exclusively lyrical perspective, it is by far the strongest and most evoking. This track centers around Turner recollecting the success of and love from fans regarding their prior albums, emphasizing, “I’ve conjured up wonderful things / The ballad of what could’ve been / Over and out / It’s been a thrill.” There is a guilt Turner feels for exploring a style so divergent from what the band had produced for the past decade, with the song’s chorus communicating, “I had big ideas, the band were so excited / The kind you’d rather not share over the phone / But now, the orchestra’s got us all surrounded / And I cannot for the life of me remember how they go,” divulging the pressure felt for future albums to perform as well as the one’s from the distant past. In the outro, prefaced by yet another guitar solo in the album, Turner underscores that he “just can’t for the life of me / remember how they go,” emphasizing that the famed rock sound the band established their footing with, cannot come back.
With “Hello You,” the band returns to their upbeat, funky sound. Accompanied by a synthy piano and rock guitar beginning, the first lyric, “Lego Napoleon movie,” ensures that this is yet another song on the album that may make listeners chuckle within the first 10 seconds. “Hello You,” says goodbye to the sound of the band’s past, “Hello you, still draggin’ out a long goodbye? / I ought to apologize for one of the last times,” looking forward to the now boundless possibility of the future.
Another Pink Floydian-esque song, “Mr Schwartz” marks the album’s return to the enigmatic mood established in “There’d Better Be A Mirrorball,” drawing the listener back into the oracular roots that the album frames its songs around. With an acoustic guitar intro followed by a temperate piano melody, verse two, “Gradually, it’s coming into view / It’s like your little directorial debut,” is followed by the introduction of other instruments that create a tune faintly akin to Henry Mancini’s “Lujon,” transforming the enigmatic Mr. Schwartz, the song’s namesake, into an alluring figure and thus, an enticing tune.
The album concludes with “Perfect Sense,” a fitting finale for the album. Distant drums and orchestral strings accompanied with lyrics such as “Sometimes, I wrap my head around it all / And it makes perfect sense” and “If that’s what it takes to say goodnight / Then that’s what it takes,” provide an ending that, by itself, may appear a bit boring, but in the broader context of the album, works.
Although initially approached with contempt toward Turner and the Monkeys — Jamie Cook on guitar, Nick O’Malley on bass and Matt Helders on drums — as the yearning for what the band previously produced inflicted a premeditated aversion toward “The Car,” the album is impressive in its ability to traverse a funk-oriented, loungy aura while still maintaining a bit of the rock modus operandi that they became known for. Compared to the notoriety of their previous albums, such as “Favourite Worst Nightmare” (2007) and “Humbug” (2009),“The Car,” alongside the band’s new musical direction, has yet to solidify itself as a cult classic. As they continue to produce music better reflective of their acquired taste and growth beyond the grunginess of their youth, though, the Arctic Monkeys may find new footing and a refreshed name for themselves.