‘Perhaps Vampires’: In defence of Arctic Monkeys’ most forgettable debut album track
When Alex Turner said playing early Arctic Monkeys songs during their shows felt like him doing a karaoke version of himself, I fully understood what he meant. As a self-professed Arctic Monkeys mega fan, I am clawing at every sense of emotional connection I have with those first two records.
There is simply no doubt that Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not set the stall out for how I listen to music. As a lyric obsessive, it completely changed my outlook on how music and words can co-exist, while also providing a sonic offering that was compelling and energetic. It scratched every itch I wanted as a young music fan, but perhaps most important of all, made my existence feel a little bit more understood.
But the entire reason my fandom of the band has remained as strong as it did back then, was because of how the music has developed with age. The band’s creative process has remained truthful to their own maturity and in doing so, mirrors everyone else. Therefore, the fans have multiple avenues of intrigue to explore as they grow older with their music.
While the feelings I experienced as a youngster quickly resurface upon listening to that debut album, they materialise in an almost satirical sense. I borderline recoil as I sing “But this lad at her side drinking his Smirnoff Ice / Came and paid for her Tropical Reef”, which is saying something when I can comfortably sing along to Turner’s more croon-based offerings.
The charm and subsequent cringe of some of the record comes in how time-specific it is. That’s the harsh reality for a good three quarters of the track, with perhaps ‘Mardy Bum’ and ‘Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But…’ being somewhat universal, if not forgettable in the case of the latter song.
Let’s start with the lyrical intent of the song. Aimed at guardians of Britain’s tall poppy syndrome, Turner takes a swipe at that entrenched national idea that anyone pursuing something outside of their more humble means: “You’d have been better to stay ’round our way’ / Thinking ’bout things but not actually doing the things”.
It’s a relatively direct, if not basic, lyric from Turner that will forever be timeless in British culture. Staring in the face of doubters and being willing to prove them wrong is a universal feeling, particularly in the arts and can quite easily be injected into modern generations, looking to find their way in the world through music.
But perhaps where the song elevated itself and will now gain the attention of more acute listeners was the rhythmic performance of Matt Helders and the then bassist, Andy Nicholson.
After two minutes of Alex Turner’s pointed diatribe, it descends into a somewhat dancey breakdown, the sort we would find on the next album. Helders is given a chance to deliver a rudimentary drum solo that gets the juices flowing, while Nicholson’s bass rolls with it. All the while, tension builds for the final exclamation of “All you people are vampires!” and the subsequent guitar solo.
The rest of the album was a bare-fisted punch in the face, whereas this felt like more of a grapple, ever so slightly more considered and undoubtedly a gateway into the more complex arrangements we would get later down the line. But if nothing else, it was a beautiful foreshadowing of the journey they were about to embark on: outrageous success in the face of jealous doubters.
