MOG

MOGstars: 9/10

Understatements can’t really be something Alex Turner has heard much in the last few years- ever since he muttered “Don’t believe the hype” at the start of the video for I Bet You Look Good on The Dancefloor he and his band of Arctic Monkeys have been showered with superlatives; fastest-selling, best, phenomenal and a thousand other compliments have come there way from both critics and consumers. Now at the tender age of 22, Turner has teamed up with mate Miles Kane (of indie also-rans The Little Flames and The Rascals) to launch side project The Shadow Puppets.

At first debut offering The Age of The Understatement seems like the concoction of a music industry Dr Frankenstein- the most potent forces of British music thrown together into an all consuming duo. Bombastic Britpop that appeals to the Oasis crowd, is combined with the retro chic of Duffy and Richard Hawley, creating a harmony of everything that is currently chart topping. The lad-rock that made Turner the darling of post closing-closing time brusiers and scantily clad slappers is here, but is toned down in favour this time of the musicality that intrigued the indie connoisseurs and pretentious press – rather like a can of Stella with a white port chaser. Thrown in with this is a twist of grandeur, as Arcade Fire collaborator Owen Pallet and the London Metropolitan Orchestra are brought in for string arrangements.

This bizarre cocktail is easily sampled with the title track and first single- an orchestral flurry soon gives way to grumbling guitars, and a sonic splendour that perfectly mirrors the videos Soviet setting. From the outset it is clear Turner has left behind his Angry Young Men approach to songwriting. His songs are no longer the everyday tales of Sheffield life- an existence of birds, booze and bouncers – but literary creations, powered by sibilance and subtlety. Instead of a night on the tiles, The Age of The Understatement is more like a black and white detective film.

This cinematic sumptuousness is highlighted further on My Mistakes Were Made For You, which sounds perfectly suited to the cocktails and sports cars of Connery era Bond. As the strings soar and swoop from majesty to malice, Turner’s Glastonbury crowning performance of Diamonds Are Forever comes to mind. Yet it is the personal aspect of this track that really makes it shimmer, Turner’s doleful vocals are reminiscent of 505, the despairing love song that ended the latest Monkeys’ album and of course saw Kane provide guest guitars. Except this time things are filtered beautifully though subtle imagery, rather than the realism of Turner’s day job.

Only The Truth serves as a vehicle for some of the most personal lyrics on the album. Here Turner returns to his usual, highly cynical, view of love, and frames it with his typical observational lyrics. Yet as is the theme for this record, all the time it is a highly stylised tableau he is viewing – “She lifts up her glass/As if to bring down a mass” is a far cry from the Neepsend kerb crawlers of When The Sun Goes Down. With a musical chase sequence full of turns and pitfalls, the instrumentation once again mirrors Turners words.

Many people coming to The Age of The Understatement are going to be disappointed – there is little trace here of the writer who provide such choruses as “Oh the boy’s a slag/the best you ever had” or whose songs provided the backdrop to countless pub brawls. The skinheads who turned Arctic Monkeys stadium shows into violent mosh pits are going to find little to fuel their aggression here. But at risk of sounding snobby, the more refined AM fans will find much to love. The Merseybeat of Standing Next to Me and quiet strumming of The Time Has Come Again, alongside the more sumptuous tracks, showcase musical knowledge and passion, whilst the lyrics are as entertaining and pithy as anything Turner has written before. The album exudes sixties influences, but instead of the Terrence Rattigan and Albert Finney grit of AM’s records, it is one of Orson Welles and Scott Walker. With this record Turner has in some ways come out of the closet, no longer the working class Northern lad making noise, he shows himself as a musician with a sense of artistry, class and history – some may denounce this record as “poncey”, but for the true music fan it is an impressive side to his skill.