‘Batphone’: The song that proved the superiority of Arctic Monkeys’ divisive album ‘Tranquility Base’
If you were to ask any self-proclaimed Arctic Monkeys fan which song they think is the best – or most important – you’d likely spark one of the most divisive debates ever. You might get the early sound loyalists fighting tooth and nail with The Car fans over why ‘Riot Van’ is more impactful than ‘Body Paint’, and probably a few stuck in the middle, still caught in the riptide of AM.
Most of these arguments, no matter how convoluted or edged toward something more inexplicably complicated, will almost always centre around one controversial aspect: their evolution. From day one, Arctic Monkeys established themselves as forerunners in the new indie wave scene, drawing people in with their quintessential northern charm and Alex Turner’s ability to deliver poetic musings about the most mundane things.
Inevitably, therefore, the shift in their artistic output divided fans. This wasn’t necessarily the changes that occurred naturally over the course of Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not through AM—in fact, the latter is what helped them break America—but rather the tectonic shift that placed a rift among both sides of the Arctic Monkeys wave when the band threw Tranquility Base into the ring.
Throughout the band’s 23-year reign, no amount of uproar compared to the swirl of mixed reactions that occurred after this particular drop. It’s easy to see why—after all, AM wasn’t just a great record, it was overwhelmingly accessible, with rock’s quintessential headiness blending with pop’s melodic sugar-tinged hooks in a way that spotlighted Turner’s penchant for effortlessly cool lyrical musings.
It also sparked a mass cultural moment around the idea of modern-day rock ‘n’ roll (partially owed to Turner’s own slightly egotistical acknowledgement of it at the Brit Awards in 2013), with countless youngsters suddenly scrambling to look just like Turner while blasting ‘Fireside’ in their wired headphones through school and university hallways. In other words, it was the aesthetic on every kid’s Tumblr profile.
Then came its dusty, wood-brown, introverted cousin, Tranquility Base. At its crux, Tranquility Base wasn’t uncool, but against AM, it felt like a calculated retreat, a deliberate betrayal on Turner’s part to prove that not only were they past their quirky, indie-infused pretences of 2012, but they were also mature enough to admit that it no longer mattered. At least not to them, anyway.
And with any sharp jolt in another direction comes immense whiplash. Granted, time has been on Tranquility‘s side, with many of those initially judgemental gazes softening over the years they’ve had to endure and eventually enjoy the record, but many of these reservations remain, save for those who have now grown to appreciate its oddly abstract cinematic blanket.
But the sovereignty of Tranquility Base wasn’t just in its audacity; it was a genuinely illicit affair, weighted by its own ability to actually be good. Some tracks might take a while longer to come around to, like the charged pounding that pushes you away rather than pulling you in at the beginning of ‘She Looks Like Fun’, but the ones that feel starkly unexpected in their own willingness to delight, like ‘Batphone’, make it all worth the while.
Inspired by another of Turner’s technological fixations and objectified by the concept of a private telephone number, ‘Batphone’ isn’t just musically and melodically fascinating, it’s also Turner’s most lyrically accomplished to date. While there are many notable contenders when it comes to this aspect of the singer’s capability, one of which is likely the entirety of Suck It And See, ‘Batphone’ ultimately takes the cake, and here’s why.
Firstly, it captures the entire concept of the record. This might not be an impressive feat on its own, as many still misinterpret what Tranquility Base is actually all about, not to mention the fact that many people also don’t care, or find it too inaccessible an idea to even feel any musical or emotional connection to. However, with ‘Batphone’, it’s not just about temporarily vacating to a make-believe hotel and casino on the moon; it’s about how these fleeting moments of bliss or alienation make us feel and how we often cling to surreal fantasies to keep dreams alive.
On its own, Tranquility Base can be something of a boring record, but only when you fail to connect the dots. The point of contention exists where ‘Batphone’ challenges us to feel more and think more, aligning our beliefs in love and attachment to broader concepts of being without actually asking us to do anything explicitly. This is Turner’s sweet spot, where sincerity and satire become a little more self-indulgent and reliant on one another, culminating in complex wordplay that still somehow feels intimate.
Beyond the glorious arrangements, this fact is proven right in the lyrics. “It’s the big night in Tinsel City / Life became a spectator sport,” Turner sings, criticising our means to live through screens, before continuing on a similar path regarding commodity fetishism, “I launch my fragrance called “Integrity” / I sell the fact that I can’t be bought.”
Then, the more inviting, romantic cadences slip through: “I’ve recognised the glow of your low beams numerous times / Through fairly opaque blinds in the sitting room / Vehicles will pass by / But I know when it’s you.” While we don’t know who exactly Turner is discussing—we never do—the specifics rarely matter, as it becomes more about how we, as listeners, feel about the idea of familiarity, even when it’s veiled in the thick lathers of nostalgia.
‘Batphone’ isn’t just a masterpiece; it’s Arctic Monkeys’ most defining song, capturing everything great they ever set out to achieve. Musically, it might not be to everybody’s tastes, but that only serves to enhance all the reasons it stands out among the more accessible or sonically-familiar tracks in their broader discography. ‘Batphone’ isn’t there to be liked; it’s there to remind us of everything that the band is beyond the limitations of their own success.
