10 Greatest Album Closers Of All Time

3. A Certain Romance - Arctic Monkeys (Whatever People Say I Am, That€™s What I€™m Not, 2006)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Q7DwruVW0c

It€™s now become commonplace to state that Arctic Monkeys€™ debut album is the defining sound of the 2000s. But like all clichés, these statements are overused because, deep down, they€™re probably true. With all due respect to hipsters/ Arcade Fire fans (draw your own Venn diagram and delete whichever one you feel most appropriate), Whatever People Say I Am, That€™s What I€™m Not really is the most vital long-player of that decade. Despite the rabbit-in-headlines approach and George Formby channelling formula that Alex Turner perfected on stage and in interviews as the Steel City boys rose to fame, his cutting and razor-sharp lyricism spoke volumes. Whether regaling us with tales of s**t bands, engaging in fisticuffs with belligerent bouncers or sound-tracking the tiffs of lovers everywhere, Turner€™s world was so familiar that you could seemingly smell the tobacco, alcohol and awkward teenage fumblings as soon as you opened the CD case.

Blessed with an ability to elevate the mundane to an almost spiritual level and coax laughter from tears, Turner€™s skill made him the latest in a long line of fiendishly intelligent Northerners (see Morrissey and Jarvis Cocker) to romanticise the real. A Certain Romance is the living embodiment of these lyrical traits, reinforcing the album€™s nuanced observations of character, blistering self-awareness and a humour that is both effortless and extremely profound. Turner€™s song-writing nous is often found in lines that initially appear throw-away but are loaded with meaning. A Certain Romance€™s killer line comes in the guise of €˜there€™s only music so that there€™s new ring tones€™, a comment on people who showcase in an interest in music not for its artistic worth but its relative popularity (scenesters and chart-digesters take note), seemingly speaking of the fickle and ever-changing nature of consumerism and materialism.

Of course, as is often my downfall, I€™ve focused too long on Turner€™s majesty and neglected the contributions of his merry band of Monkeys. Matt Helders chips in with pounding drums that seem to foreshadow his eventual evolution into a drumming powerhouse, Andy Nicholson (on his only full LP with the band) provides an assured, propelling bass line and Jamie Cook€™s refined rhythm guitar sound is, as ever, the perfect foil to Turner€™s own lead guitar heroics. Perhaps it is this grandiose musical backdrop that inspires the leap from the mundane to the spiritual but one thing€™s for sure, only Arctic Monkeys could make a song about council states, pool club scraps and Chav culture sound so celebratory and so philosophical, pointing out that there€™s a certain romance in such provincial phenomena. Turner€™s nervous, dithering Frank Spencer act may have been ditched a long time ago in favour of a shade-sporting, quiff-rocking, leather-jacket-popped-like-antenna lothario but his lyrics have never sounded as relevant or as intricately-detailed as they do here. Don€™t get me wrong, his words are still amongst the best in the business but JUST NOT IN THE SAME WAAAYYYYYYYY!

Contributor
Contributor

A 22 year old English Literature graduate from Birmingham. I am passionate about music, literature and football, in particular, my beloved Aston Villa. Lover of words and consumer of art, music is the very air that I breathe.