Hear Me Out: ‘The Car’ is Arctic Monkey’s most overrated album
Since they burst onto the scene in 2006 with Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, Arctic Monkeys have cemented themselves as a British institution—no release since has been met with anything other than anticipation. No festival lineup isn’t made better without their inclusion, and they have a name strong enough to fill out arenas worldwide. Yeah, they’re musical giants, no further questions. Well, maybe one, but is it justified?
Arctic Monkeys deserve respect for how they have conducted themselves throughout their career. There is still a market for the sound they achieved on their debut, as seen in the astronomical success of their cringe-inducing carbon copies, The Reytons. However, Alex Turner and the band have always put creativity at the forefront of their musical process over album sales. Granted, Favourite Worst Nightmare followed in the footsteps of their debut, but since then, each album has come with its own unique tone, a different style for the band and a variation on their live show.
When they released Humbug, it was met with a level of controversy, given that the material was so far removed from their first two albums. However, when given time to sit with it, fans realised that, yes, it was different, but it was still exceptional. The same went for the two albums that followed, Suck It And See and AM. That ability to create something new that still pleases fans has helped the band become recognised as one of the best of their generation.
Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino, meanwhile, was one of the first Arctic Monkeys albums to meet with criticism that wasn’t subsequently cleared up. It divided audiences for two main reasons. The first was that it was slow and lacked the catchy appeal that previous LPs had. Despite constant shifts in tone, Arctic Monkeys always delivered when it came to giving something catchy and fun that audiences could latch onto, but despite the leading single ‘Four Out Of Five’, Tranquillity Base lacked this.
The second reason was the lyrics. Alex Turner was always praised for his ability to articulate the ordinary beautifully. However, with Tranquillity Base, he went much more abstract, making his audience search for meaning instead of laying it out in front of them.
The hype surrounding Tranquillity Base was appropriate. It certainly wasn’t a bad album. Some say it was great, and that may be so, but it’s not a cultural classic by any stretch of the imagination. The same applies to The Car, an album which stalled and broke down upon release of the first single, ‘There’d Better Be a Mirrorball’. It was a slow song, one that never felt as though it got going, and that left fans feeling very unsatisfied. Turner’s voice sounded sweet, and the budget was clearly immense, so despite the negative reception of the track, fans were left mildly excited and eagerly awaited the new record.
A couple of days after its release, the comments surrounding The Car mirrored one another, as people said it was “a slow burner” and that when you give it time, it’s perfect. Any album you like after a few days is not “a slow burner”. These days didn’t represent a shifting cultural landscape the album parked itself into. Instead, these couple of days were how long it took fans to process their disappointment before kidding themselves that what they were listening to was anything more than passable.
Imagine going through a tough break-up with someone you thought you would be with forever. Imagine it’s been a couple of years of hurt, where you look around and pubs remind you of them, songs apply to you more than they did previously, and you don’t feel as good in the clothes that used to empower you. Imagine you’ve finally pulled yourself together enough to start dating again. You have hope in your heart, open once again to love and to vulnerability. However, two drinks in, you realise the person sitting opposite you is a dud. You pick out the good qualities, you like the same music and the same movies, they dress nice, and you steadily convince yourself that this hasn’t been a waste of time and getting back on the dating scene is a good idea. Well, Arctic Monkeys albums one to five are your ex. Tranquillity Base was the breakup, and you’re now staring into The Car’s eyes, telling yourself they’re not worse, just different. It’s not a slow burner; you’ve just had time to process things.
The Car isn’t good. The instrumentation is incredibly lacklustre, put together by an orchestra that sounds like they’ve been given instructions as brief as “just something ballroom-esque”. The entire record lacks any energy; it sounds almost like the band doesn’t want to be playing it themselves, and the lyrics are so bad it’s the first time it’s ever sounded like an album is being condescending. Everything about The Car is so buried in metaphor that it renders itself meaningless. We don’t like it; we like the group who made it and hold them in such a high regard that, as listeners, we become desperate for there to be something more, something profound, buried underneath the bland production and student lyrics.
Alex Turner also has such a stigma attached as people see him as a deep thinker and amazing lyricist, to the point that the lyrics throughout this album, which are drawn out and pointless as opposed to sweet and profound, get read into far too much and are given unwarranted credit.
Strip the earth of its surface; all you’re left with is fire. If you dig too deep into The Car, set aside prejudices and actually read into what you think is too complex for the layperson to understand, you’ll get burned. The album is hugely overrated, false praise thrown onto it thanks to a rose-tinted nostalgia, to the point that when you take The Car for what it is, rather than getting the ride into the sunset that people make it out to be, you’re just left with scrap metal.
