This EP was released a few months after Arctic Monkeys’ debut album. For context, they were huge at this point. They’d had two number one singles, and the fastest-selling debut in British history. They were the first band to really break big through the internet, giving away early demo CDs, which circulated online through the likes of MySpace (RIP); helping build their fanbase before they were signed to a record deal. If there’s a documentary about how we’ve consumed music over time, then they’d probably be used to symbolise the beginning of the internet/streaming age.
I wanted to briefly touch on how good their first album was. It kind of perfected that style of indie-rock, reflecting the lives of young adults/teens in working class towns across the UK. There were plenty of lesser bands that came in their wake (not naming names cos I actually liked a lot of them). And there’s still plenty of new bands obviously influenced by them, that feel like poor man’s imitations. With many bands that touch on the same subjects, it can come across as punching down; a snide swipe at your shitty hometown and it’s stupid characters. But there was always more subtlety and wit in Alex Turner’s songwriting. He wasn’t celebrating the town and it’s characters, but he wasn’t looking down on them either. Yeah, there was stupid lads doing stupid things, but they were your mates. And the girls may all have dressed the same; jumping on the latest trends, but you still wanted to impress them. Plus, the tunes were bangers, of course.
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This was originally meant to be the third single from their debut, but they added four new songs, turning it into this EP. At the height of their popularity you can already hear them evolving, not content just trying to recycle what got them there. There’s a sort of defiance in this, it’s the mindset that’s kept them interesting and saw them morph into the weird, spacey, lounge-jazz band of today.
The View from the Afternoon was the opener from their debut and the first track here. It’s another banger, describing the anticipation and subsequent disappointments of a typical night out. I remember 17 year-old me thinking that “And you can pour your heart out around 3 o’clock, when the 2-for-1’s undone the writer’s block” was a genius lyric. And I still do – he makes drunk texting sound genuinely poetic.
Cigarette Smoker Fiona is one of their weaker earlier tracks. A re-worked version of an early demo, originally called Cigarette Smoke, which detailed a laddy night-out full of clichéd bad behaviour, with lyrics about snorting coke off strippers’ thighs and smacking blokes. This version is more toned-down and instead switches focus to the sister of the original character. It describes a culture clash encounter between working-class lads and middle/upper-class girls. It’s a slightly half-baked idea and, musically, isn’t particular interesting. It’s the kind of song which rightly didn’t make the cut for the album and it already feels like they’d outgrown it by this point.
The mood shifts with Despair in the Departure Lounge, a lovelorn ballad with Turner pining for a girl back home while he’s on his travels. It could come off as self-pitying, but the deadpan delivery of the closing line “What’s happened to me?” acts as an acknowledgement of that; Turner catching himself and realising that he’s being a bit daft. It’s all quite subdued; with an understated chorus, and just a few twinkling keyboard notes in the late instrumental break. If they’d tried to go big with this it wouldn’t have worked, but in keeping it low-key, they get the tone right. While the sentiment could have been mopey, it becomes a sweet little lament, that feels relatable rather than laughable.
No Buses is along the same vein, a modest tale of unrequited lust. With the title being a reference to the old ‘you wait ages for a bus…’ metaphor. Or, as it’s put here: “They always offer when there’s loads of love around, But when you’re short of some, it’s nowhere to be found.” Turner’s voice doesn’t sound at full strength on these two songs, there’s a weariness, but it works in context. Again, it has the potential to be self-indulgently glum, but the tune itself is subtly upbeat with a self-awareness, giving it a lightness which undercuts the mope. Turner knows it’s all a bit trivial, but these are pretty universal feelings and it’s ok to indulge that sometimes, as long as you can laugh at yourself when you come out the other end.
The title track is the EP’s most interesting. Their defiance on full display here. With them being commercial and critical darlings at this point, the lyrics are outright daring the music industry/press to turn on them. Having achieved such success at an early age, this was maybe Turner’s defence mechanism, preempting the fear that it would all fall apart. Most importantly, it’s a really good tune. It has three fairly distinct sections with a load of riffs crammed into its five and a half minutes. There’s a quick-fire chorus, a beautifully obnoxious “la, la, la” section, and the belligerent call of “bring on the backlash” feels like a triumphant middle finger to their potential critics. Fittingly, the EP received a mostly negative critical reception, but I’ve always thought that’s partly because this song hit a little too close to home.
The EP is more deep-cut fan favourite than true classic. But it’s an interesting snapshot of a young band navigating their fame, and you can hear them beginning to evolve their sound and songwriting across the tracks. And four of those tracks are decent to really good tunes.
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