Arctic Monkeys

"I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor", Arctic Monkeys' second single and first full-scale release, has shifted a rattling avalanche of around 33,000 copies thus far whilst simultaneously thrusting a very sharp, very painful spear labelled "Reality Check" up the rear end of the boring, apathetic public.

I write this two days after the UK gained a new chart-topping single packaged humbly in a polo shirt and a slightly-worse-for-wear Adidas jacket with a look of vague shock and a small smile of acknowledgement slapped haphazardly on its face. 'I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor', Arctic Monkeys' second single and first full-scale release, has shifted a rattling avalanche of around 33,000 copies thus far whilst simultaneously thrusting a very sharp, very painful spear labelled 'Reality Check' up the rear end of the boring, apathetic public. People are throwing stupid moves in clubs/pubs/front rooms all over the country. People are doing that unspoken-of thing in the middle of the flooded, leaf-choked streets: laughing. People have discovered, at long last, that they have ears.

Laying aside all possible lame jokes that the phrase "After twenty minutes on the Monkeys' tourbus..." could instigate, I will say, firstly, how very humble, loveable and somewhat tired these young men seem. Slightly overwhelmed, rather nonplussed and a tad bored, understandably, by the media parade surrounding them (they've had to divide themselves into two today to keep up with the schedule: guitarist Jamie Cook and bassist Andy Nicholson battling an interrogation somewhere in the midst of the venue's soundchecks; myself, drummer Matt Helders and frontman Alex Turner mumbling around on a very, very orange indeed coach), they look in desperate need of entertainment and a good brisk walk to slap some fresh air into their pale chops. Fiddling with any available roll of sellotape, twiddling mobile phones and nudging a stray DVD ('24 Hour Party People', if you're interested) around the table, Alex is your tiny-bit-awkward boy-down-the-road who would probably rather be playing about on the food-splattered acoustic lying upturned on the raggedy seats than shiftily avoiding excessive eye-contact with yet another stranger in possession of a recording machine, especially one with a fatigued Dictaphone which conveniently snuffs it halfway through the interview. A rapid change of batteries ensues, followed by a tedious back-step through a few questions, although none of us can even remember what we said ("It was probably rubbish, anyway" admits Turner). It's all very ramshackle; but their world is, after all, a crazy one.

Today, Monday 17th October 2005, sees the release of aforementioned single and the boys have all just returned from a pop to Virgin Megastores where one or two souvenir copies per member were purchased from the marginally-baffled cashiers. The remaining pressings on the shelves were cunningly assembled to conceal McFly's latest offering. The staff were a bit pissed off, apparently. This is, however, what these Monkeys do - everywhere they bless with their tangled, cheeky presence is completely and utterly owned, hell, dominated.

The Arctic Takeover began sometime three years ago, when Jamie and Alex both received guitars for Christmas presents and didn't really aim to do anything more with them than twang about in their rooms. As regards the formation of the band, they "just ended up talking about it and eventually got up and started learning to play... when we started we were doing it and then we weren't; we were just messing about." Their first song was entitled "'Matt Dave Rock Song', 'cause we had another guy who was singing with us then and, yeah... it was just a crap song." So there were no intentions of global vanquishing, then; no vistas of red-carpeted rock n' roll debauchery panning between their ears, complete with strobe-lighting and hallucinations of elaborate backstage riders? Not at all.

"For me (music) is more of a recent thing." offers Matt, earnestly. "I mean, I've always liked music but I never thought I'd be in a band until this happened. I was probably thinking about being an actor or summat...well, when I was a little kid!" he laughs. "I never made an effort to play an instrument or anything. I used to play the organ a bit but I was crap at that. Being in a band has got me into music more than anything else - it wasn't the other way around." Alex had a little more background but, again, was never driven by some deep desire from the very beginning - "Whilst I didn't have, like, an extensive knowledge or anything I was always quite intrigued by the whole thing. I used to be reight into (Ricky?) ...on my own and, just...by myself, messing about with sequencers and stuff. Erm...but, again, I never thought of it as a youngster...never dreamed to be in a band or owt like that. It just, sort of...happened." Having said that, though, there was obviously a moment when suddenly everything clicked into place. "Yeah. As soon as we did (form a band), it was all I ever thought about, ever!"

Commandeering massive vessels of songs loaded from hull to stern with sharktailed tunes of witty history and anecdote, Arctic Monkeys smashed open the floodgates of the so-called 'download age' earlier on this year, trawling colossal waves of foaming, flapping fans with them; nutters belting their lyrics back at their stunned, mischievous-angel faces like baying hyenas. Were they surprised that their songs, being written mainly about their own home, surroundings and personal experiences, would have such a resounding relevance with so many thousands of people? "I dunno", says Alex, "some stuff you probably could have said that they would have (related to), but...I think a lot of our stuff is quite literal, really. Some bits you can't really mistake what it's about; it is what it is. But some sections of the songs become more than just that. They start to remind people of a certain time or summat like that, sometimes. So yeah, in that sense they can mean different things to different people."

Yes - inevitably, the 'scummy man' of their hometown will morph into an all-encompassing portrayal of everybody's local's shady character, the one who sits in the corner snorting stale beer and eyeing up the girls. It's arguably these acutely-observed descriptions and dismantlings of city-folk and ordinary people, urban heroes and villains alike, which provide the crux of the Monkeys' music. They're not just slating their origins, though; alongside their barbed barricades of venomous jibes at the alleyways and grubby creatures of the night, there's a definite fondness and bittersweet affection for the place. "Yeah, exactly" agrees Alex. "When... people... ask us what it was like, they say 'Oh, it must've been awful growing up there!' and we're like [guttural accent] 'Naaaawwwhhh!' I think it's just, like, celebrating it a bit as well."

This accent-enhanced focus on their roots and beginnings has been noted as one of the most prominent and appealing aspects of the band; this unabashed honesty and playfulness is the driving force behind their sound and that of their peers, including fellow Sheffield groups, Harrisons and Milburn. "They're all good bands and we all know each other", says Matt, "but... like, Milburn - we knew them before we were in a band. We used to go and watch them and Harrisons as well. We've all done gigs together in the past..." This mutual inter-band respect is hard-earned and appreciated but it seems that the press, when writing about the alleged Sheffield 'explosion', are doing their utmost to lump them all together and slap on the obligatory label, the convenient 'sound'; whereas, in actual fact, each band is a strong, forceful unit in its own right. "We kinda already had summat going anyway (before the media came along), so always had that to... reinforce us. Ultimately, as long as we've got that, it doesn't really matter what they say." believes Alex.

There is, of course, a whole lot more going on in the city than meets the eye, a cauldron of diversity bubbling away on the sidelines but not yet getting noticed. "There's some reight good stuff", insists Alex. "A friend of ours called John, he's been doing some stuff. He used to be in a band called 1984 and then, like, they kind of disbanded on the cusp of everything and got erm...Sheffield sorta on the map. (Since then) he's been doing some smaller collaborations in this (punk/pop) band called The Reverend. That'll catch people's attention when it comes out - I think there'll be a seven inch or something sometime soon. It's the guy who we recorded all our demos with and John and they, like, do stuff together in the studio. It's just, like, futuristic really. It's not like us at all. It's, kind of, quite unique. But yeah, it's really good. (So are) all the bands from our end, round here - Bromhead's Jacket are touring a lot. I think they'll evolve quite well. (And also) Trap2 - they're friendly, they kind of all started it - (they've got a) really good frontman, an amazing singer."

For the time being, though, it's the Monkeys who are at the eye of the hurricane. Casting a studied stare at the bruised orange crowning the fruitbowl's hierarchy of battered apples, a satsuma and a smattering of grapes, Turner emits the aural equivalent of a shrug. Seemingly, he doesn't quite know how he got here. Right now, it's an exhilarating, heady trip of obscure proportions; but do they not worry that, soon, the pressure will start to squash them? Alex evidently does. "For where we're at it is too much anyway. It's getting out of hand already! Y'know, compared to what stage we're at as a band... we're just starting, really. (The attention) sets it up... for the record to be a disappointment or whatever. As good as we know it is, it's like... it'll be built up to be such a thing that...I f it doesn't, like, cure cancer or solve inner city poverty it'll be a disaster! But, y'know, people get carried away, don't they? Fair enough."

So there we have it. Four impossibly-normal, nervously-excited, ridiculously-knackered boys, perched, teetering, on the brink of a stupidly enormous amount of fame. Watch them fly...

• www.arcticmonkeys.com

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