The hype surrounding Arctic Monkeys’ 2006 debut album was so monstrous it threatened to swallow the band and its music whole. And a lesser band might have been swallowed, but it should be clear by now that Arctic Monkeys weren’t undone by a little media frenzy. It’s no surprise: They’re a skilled band that writes complex songs filled with unexpected musical turns, wit, and observational acumen. They have a level of musicianship that hasn’t been fashionable since the ’70s, but they employ it in a modern way, and everyone I’ve heard doubt the group changed their mind when I played them one of their records.
Humbug, the band’s third album, breaks ground in a few directions for the Arctics. It’s their loosest record yet by far, following on the heels of the hyperaggressive Favourite Worst Nightmare, which at times was wound so tight it felt like it might collapse from a heart attack on the next chord change. Part of this looseness can be credited to producer Josh Homme, who brings out the darkness that often underlies Alex Turner’s songwriting. The guitars in particular have a snapping, reverberant desert/surf tone that fuels the band’s descent into night. It’s an interesting look for them, and one that undeniably sounds much better on the third or fourth listen than the first. This perhaps reflects that the Arctics, having established and subsequently defended their place in the UK pop firmament, can now afford to make a record that grows on you rather than walloping you in the face repeatedly.
First single “Crying Lightning” is among the record's loudest, most aggressive tracks. Alex Turner’s Yorkshire accent and penchant for detailed writing—he catalogs the sweets the “you” in the song ingests almost obsessively (pick’n’mix, strawberry lace, gobstoppers, and ice cream) and the song rides its overdriven bass line to a theatrical horror guitar build-up. The song’s heavy hand is oddly off-putting and engaging at the same time. As an antidote, they’d do well to release “Cornerstone” as the follow-up single. The album’s highlight, the song is beyond lovelorn, with Turner delivering a swooning, dreamy vocal, possibly his best to date. He makes a somewhat hokey premise—a guy who keeps approaching women who look like his ex-girlfriend, only to strike out when he asks if he can call them by her name—actually work through clever turns of phrase and his usual flair with detail.
That song feels like a legitimate expansion of the band’s songwriting arsenal, but their usual territory offers its share of good stuff as well. Matt Helders’ drumming on the frenzied riff-fest “Dangerous Animals” is jaw-dropping, and it’s one of things that saves the song from its spelled-out vocal hook. “Potion Approaching” threatens to turn into a cover of Nirvana’s “Very Ape” on its opening riff, but the band instead opts for Zeppelin-ish start-stop passages that read like “Achilles’ Last Stand” recast as a Britpop tune before it shifts completely into a seesawing, mildly psychedelic mid-section.
Their riffier tendencies can get the best of them, as on “Pretty Visitors,” a progged-out song that gets lost in heavy metal thunder, choral vocals (not an actual choir, but the band built up into one), and creepy organ interludes. The balance between songwriting and excess seems to hold across all three of their albums, though, and it’s never undone them yet. Humbug isn’t better than either of its predecessors, but it expands the group’s range and makes me curious where it might go next. It also demonstrates a great deal of staying power for a band that could have imploded before it ever got this far.
