Object.

Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not.
Arctic Monkeys

Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is the debut album by English band Arctic Monkeys, released on 23 January 2006. The album became the UK's fastest selling debut album, shifting over 360,000 copies in its first week, and remains the fastest selling debut album by a band.It has since gone quadruple platinum in the UK .The album includes both tracks from the band's original EP, Five Minutes with Arctic Monkeys, as well as their first two singles and UK Number Ones, "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" and "When the Sun Goes Down". It has since appeared in several critics' publications, and is often cited as one of the best rock albums of the 2000s.


My favourite album. You just can't fault it. Alex Turner's way of storytelling is unlike any other. Any man who can throw in montague and capulet in a song and make it work is nothing short of a genuis. The album holds some iconic tunes such as, I bet you look on the dancefloor which became the anthem of nightclubs across the country. Even the riffs on the album were shouted back to the band.

The common thematic content of Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not has led to it being considered by some a concept album concerning "the lives of young Northern England clubbers". All tracks record first-person narratives of observations made within this context. "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor", "Still Take You Home", "You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me" and "Dancing Shoes" all examine human behaviour in nightclubs. Alex Turner describes "Dancing Shoes" as being about "people always looking to pull when they go out however much they mask it." Other songs examine other aspects of nightlife; "From The Ritz To The Rubble" is an account of nightclub bouncers, while "When The Sun Goes Down" was inspired by prostitutes in the locality of their practice room in the Neepsend district of Sheffield. Other songs are themed on romantic relationships, such as "Mardy Bum", or youth subcultures, such as "Fake Tales of San Francisco" and "A Certain Romance". In NME's list of top 100 tracks of the decade, "A Certain Romance" was described as "a strangely even-handed song which starts out scorning local townies then appears to absolve them at the end of the song.

What I love about this album is how amature it is. That sounds like a negative thing to say about the debut album of my favourite band but I stick by it. They were still very much in their early stages and had only been playing their instruments for a few years. Let's not forget their ages the time of recording the album They were 19-21. Unlike many successfull bands, they prefered not to sing in a false american accent choosing to embrace their thick Yorkshire twang.  The album as won the band many awards

Awards5th greatest British album – NME, January 2006
Best Album – Q Awards, October 2006
Album of the Year – NME [1]
Album of the Year – Crossbeat Magazine (Japan), December 2006
Album of the Year – Time Magazine, www.time.com/time/topten/2006/albums/01.html December 2006[dead link]
Album of the Year – Hot Press Magazine (Ireland), December 2006
Best International Album – Meteor Music Awards (Ireland), February 2007
Best British Album – 2007 BRIT Awards, February 2007
Best British Group – 2007 BRIT Awards, February 2007
In 2009 the album was voted the 9th greatest album ever by MTV from an online poll voted for by fans/



NME REVIEW 10/10

It’s hardly surprising that the first words to tumble out of Alex Turner’s mouth on this record are “Anticipation has a habit to set you up/For disappointment”. I mean, can you imagine how it feels to be in Arctic Monkeys right now? Great, obviously, seeing as they’ve filled the gutter-rock gap left behind by the imploding Libertines, gatecrashed the proper pop charts with their debut single and been declared Our Generation’s Most Important Band™. But you’ve kinda got to feel for them. They’ve only released one proper single and the world awaits excitedly for the greatest album since God plugged in his Fender and started jamming with Joe Strummer. What’s more, these boys have got an instant handicap. Loads of us have already heard half these tracks from the internet demos which helped build their fanbase. The tidier production here fails to add any more life to those snarling versions (although any more life and they’d have escaped from the case and gone joyriding around Shire Green).


But that’s enough doom-mongering. After a while the hype and expectation is going to fade away and, when it does, all you can really judge Arctic Monkeys on is their haircuts. Sorry, I meant their music. And even if you’ve been fortunate enough to live with these tracks over the last year or so, they still sound more vital, more likely to make you form your own band than anything else out there.


Essentially this is a stripped-down, punk rock record with every touchstone of Great British Music covered: The Britishness of The Kinks, the melodic nous of The Beatles, the sneer of Sex Pistols, the wit of The Smiths, the groove of The Stone Roses, the anthems of Oasis, the clatter of The Libertines…


Of course, the Monkeys actually spent their teens listening to hip-hop. But where that really shows is in the lyrics and the frenetic pace at which Alex hurls them out of his gob. He’s a master of observation. Unlike, say, Morrissey or Jarvis, he doesn’t use his eye-spying skills to strike a blow for the freaks and misfits of this world. And that’s exactly why they work so well. They’re songs for everyone – from the shy romantic whose hopeless with the opposite sex, to the guy who’d still take you home, even though he “can’t see through your fake tan” (‘Still Take You Home’).


What Turner does have in common with Mozza and Jarvis is that he’s a funny little fucker. And his humour is so easy to identify with, that mere observation serves him more than adequately. Forget the flowery fantasies conjured up by Dickensian Doherty – these are tales of the scum-ridden streets as they are in 2006, not 1906.


So you get the tongue-tied tart in ‘Dancing Shoes’, the bored band-watcher in ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and the guy whose girl’s got the hump in ‘Mardy Bum’ – all sung with a voice so authentic it could land the lead role in the Hovis ads. This record’s heart lies in Yorkshire, and it’s usually down the local Ritzy disco, getting the cold shoulder off the bird it fancies and ending up in a scrap by the taxi rank outside. It couldn’t be any more Saturday night unless it woke up, bleary-eyed, next to a 16-stone munter with herpes.


The knock-out punch is saved for the finale, though. And when it comes, it smacks you three times. Just to make sure, like. ‘When The Sun Goes Down’ is the sound of the streets long after the Ritzy has kicked out for the night, ‘From The Ritz To The Rubble’ is a three-minute blast that dares to take on that most grotesque of creatures (nightclub bouncers, not Kerry Katona). The clincher, though, is ‘A Certain Romance’. As perfect a pop song as you could ever hope to hear, it rivals even The Streets in its portrayal of small-town England, a place where “there’s only music so that there’s new ringtones”. Alex’s message is compact yet delivered with dazzling poetic flair: “All of that’s what the point is not/The point’s that there ain’t no romance around here”.


By the time it finishes, you don’t feel sorry for Arctic Monkeys any more. They might have been swamped in more hype than Shayne Ward ballroom-dancing across the set of I’m A Celebrity… but all of that’s what the point is not. The point’s that there ain’t no disappointment around here.


Tim Jonze

The CD.

Contents of the album. (CD, booklet containing images of the band and friends. Alot of the lyrics of the album tell stories of going out to nightclub with mates)