Arctic Monkeys - Humbug

In 2006 from within the eye of an unstoppable whirlwind of plaudits and hyperbole Alex Turner predicted his own downfall. "Well in five years will it be 'Who the fuck's Arctic Monkeys?'" he sang on the title track of the similarly named EP. In 2009 Humbug will doubtless prove the record that spawns the greatest downtrend in the popularity of his Sheffield four piece.

Your first thought after giving their third album its initial spin is 'where are the singles?' If you thought Crying Lightning was a cumbersome first cut lacking the immediacy of I Bet You Look Good... or the funfair romanticism of Fluorescent Adolescent, then you'll struggle to find anything of a similar nature on this LP. Pretty Visitors is a close call but a malevolent organ intro leading into a meaty Black Sabbath riff has never been a textbook route into the hearts of a nation.

Gone as well are the soap opera epithets where Turner would elevate the niceties of "cuddles in the kitchen" to iconic status whilst leaving the bump and the grind to those without the deftness of lyrical touch to allude to anything else. Acerbic wit still remains the foundation of his trade "what came first: the chicken or the dickhead?" However, tales of intoxicated teenagers on the run from the rozzers seem a world apart from a detailed documentary of a man who has fully succumbed to his adult impulses "let's make a mess lioness".

What Humbug represents is a bold stride away from the breakneck speed that sustained the Monkeys for their first two albums. Time spent in the Mojave Desert with Josh Homme has added a considerable bulk to the once wiry frames who used to carry a meatier-than-most brand of indie rock. Dangerous Animals thrives on the forcefulness of Jamie Cook's guitar playing, of which each slash carries the intent of Satan's own sledgehammer.

This emphasis upon rhythmical weight proves a vital source of disparity in contrast to the tender croon of Turner, who's Scott Walker inspired The Last Shadow Puppets side-project has helped to smooth over the sometimes jarring cracks that one inherits from a Yorkshire accent. With this ability to spit and swoon with equal verve, the central tenant of misplaced affections in Cornerstone gives an honest appraisal above and beyond his previous fairytales of the working class.

At times the relentless drive of Humbug towards a jagged edge can mire its contents within their own sordid schematic. Potion Approaching chugs by without a necessary shot of petroleum to its bloodstream and album closer The Jeweller's Hands fails to draw the curtains with either the widescreen summations of A Certain Romance or the personal bereavement of 505. Still when the gears fall into place, as with Dance Little Liar, these Mis-Shapes are worth tolerating as stumbling blocks littering the side of a yellow brick road.

In 2006 from within the eye of an unstoppable whirlwind of plaudits and hyperbole Alex Turner predicted his own downfall.... the world will have to wait on for that day to arrive.

8/10