Matt Helders’ most complex Arctic Monkeys performance
When a band becomes as good at narrating the state of their own country as the Arctic Monkeys did, the looming shadow of a pigeonhole grows larger. Desperate for a continued sense of relatability, fans crave more of what had come before, which in this band’s case was honest portrayals of Britain’s broken streets. So naturally, they went to the California desert.
Understanding that greatness comes in evolution, the Sheffield band turned their backs on brutalism and dove headfirst into expanse, trying to learn how the blueprint of their sound could be moulded to different ideas. With the respected presence of Josh Homme hovering over the recording booth, the band went to work on evolving into their next chapter.
Humbug was a divisive album. It lost the faith of, let’s face it, more narrow-minded listeners whose patience only extended to the frantic worlds of their four-chord debut. While the more curious members of the audience doubled down on their love for the band, realising this was a group that could satiate their desire for innovation.
That being said, there were two common factors that combined fans at either end of that spectrum. The first was Alex Turner’s lyrics, always tangled in rich storytelling, with wicked flicks of humour and poignancy, and Matt Helders’ frenetic drum playing. Both powerful and groovy, it was the roaring engine of the globetrotting Arctic Monkeys’ sound and was like sonic catnip for a sea of onlooking fans.
Dedicated fans granted the band their wishes and said, “Change as you may, but don’t temper Helders’ efforts.” But on Humbug, the band became more elusive. The sound slithered through the sludge instead of bashing down the door, and so naturally, Helders’s role pivoted.
‘Crying Lightning’ showcased his signature power but with an almost guitar-riff-like precision while ‘My Propellor’ was like an acid-laced skipping rope, tripping listeners up at every turn of the verse and testing the twisting ability of Turner’s melody writing. But on ‘Pretty Visitors’, Helders combines every skill to create a perfect storm of a drum beat.
The song is almost like a game of musical chairs, stopping and starting without any sense of pattern, forcing Helders to pick up and put down complex riffs at the drop of a hat. When the moment halts into a brief pause, it is perhaps the only moment Helders isn’t operating at full tilt. In the verse, he sets the tone like a winding roller coaster, while the chorus demands him to unleash a round of fury onto the song with what has to be his most unrelenting fill for the band.
On first listen, the complexity lies in the physicality of the performance, but as the arrangement of the song unravels, so does the complexity. Every inch of the kit is in play, daring Turner to go deeper with his rap-like verse as the pair engage in a game of sonic chicken, with neither letting their foot off the throttle. If you’ve ever wondered why he’s nicknamed the agile beast, then look no further than ‘Pretty Visitors’.
