Arctic Monkeys Favourite Worst Nightmare by: Kev Lavery Mon:04-Jun-07 Label: Domino Year: 2007 WB rating 73 out of 100

You know what this band sounds like; you either like them or you don’t (or you lie and tell everyone that you don’t whilst keeping them your guilty little secret). Favourite Worst Nightmare is more of the same from the heavily-accented Alex Turner and his group of working-class Sheffield lads. The difference between the Arctic Monkeys’ new long-player and the one that preceded it, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, is the same as the distinction you’d make between the first two albums by The Strokes; i.e. more money for the producers. James Ford and Mike Crossey have replaced WPSIATWIN’s Jim Abbiss in an attempt to upgrade the production and give their trademark dirty sound a somewhat slicker sheen. The Strokes comparison isn’t really fair in relation to content however, as Favourite Worst Nightmare is nearly as good an album as the initial release. It doesn’t leap and bound, but the Arctic Monkeys still make fun and feel-good tunes, party movers, instead of music to overthrow tyrannous warlords or abolish poverty.

Turner’s voice, or the accent, has garnered comparisons to the likes of Jarvis Cocker and Mike Skinner from lazy journalists – it’s like comparing Missy Higgins to Jay Whalley because they both sing with pronounced Australian accents. I will grant said journalists one concession in that Turner, Cocker, and Skinner all mine the ordinary, everyday situations for their lyrical material, opening up a gamut of words and phrases unique to their surroundings. It is these phrases, words, and pronunciations that form the cadence of this easy recognition. Turner employs all the tricks of rhythmic slang and idioms that were on show in the debut; ensuring that no matter what happens to the production you instantly know who this is.

When a band becomes the next big thing following an earnest and cheaply recorded debut, the crisp production of their second album can make it seem like an obvious progression. Here’s the problem though: Favourite Worst Nightmare is a good album, but the debut was superior in terms of actual songs. Technically a party release, Favourite Worst Nightmare is full of screeching riffs, almost-constantly furious tempos, and mammoth sing along vocal lines. The first album’s wistful and sincere quasi-balladry has been swapped for a more constant and concise sound. In concept a great idea, but it was tracks of this ilk, such as ‘Mardy Bum’ and ‘Riot Van’, which endeared the band to many.

Turner’s storytelling has also fallen by the wayside, this album lacking the quaint tales of making it home like ‘Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secure’. But we’re not reviewing the first album and we all know that second albums, save a few notable exceptions, are not as good as the first – even Tom Waits’ follow up was a bit of a let down after Closing Time. What they do get right is a wayward good-time anthem, and these are the bricks and mortar of Favourite Worst Nightmare. The slow songs, ‘Only Ones Who Know’ and ‘505’, are like the paint on the bricks; not really needed, but sort of nice to have, if only for aesthetic reasons.

Favourite Worst Nightmare is a creeper; first up you find a few choice tracks; you eventually tire of skipping around these and develop new favourites until the entire album plays from end-to-end. Its conciseness ensures this, and when played in this format the songs make perfect sense. But for me something is missing, and this something is the frankness that permeated the debut. I suppose I should thank the high heavens that Favourite Worst Nightmare isn’t just a brighter version of the original, but secretly I think that might’ve been a better move.