The latest outing from Alex Turner and his sidekick Miles
Kane isn’t what I would have expected or wanted around the time Humbug and The
Age of the Understatement were being released.
Certainly not from Turner anyway.
While The Age of Understatement was drenched in self-deprecating
incisive brilliance, Turners music has progressively become more cringe inducingly
tone deaf since the release of AM, an album that I consider to be the low point
in his career.
Apologies to the Miles Kane fans if I seem to focusing
somewhat on Alex, but judging by the two’s other output, basically everything
good about The Last Shadow Puppets is due to the involvement of Turner. If anything, I tend to blame Kane for this
rock star façade he’s adopted, and the absolutely awful music he’s produced as
a result of it. So admittedly, I had
fairly low expectations for this new project by the two of them.
However, having said that, I will admit to having been
somewhat pleasantly surprised by the level of self-reflection and insecurity on
display in some of these songs. I don’t
know of anyone who wanted Alex Turner to become the exact vacuous rock star he
mocked in Fake Tales of San Francisco, but it’s nice to see he’s dropped the
lothario rock god image to an extent. On
the title track, Turner sings in a melancholy tone, “I just can’t get the
thought of you and him out of my head”, the kind of lyric that wouldn’t be out
of place on Suck it and See if were slightly more articulate. “Element of Surprise” opens with the line, “There’s
a set of rickety stairs, in between my heart and my head, and there ain’t much
that ever bothers going up them”, lyrics that lend a level of nuance to the
kind of self-assured superstar Alex portends to be. Miles manages to almost derail the album
entirely with “Bad Habits” a song with almost know musical or lyrical merit
that I can excavate from its rank corpse.
It’s songs like this that make me wonder what Turner sees in Kane, and
why he doesn’t just have a solo career writing more albums like Submarine, but
I suppose we all have that one friend our mum makes us hang about with.
For every song that
develops a level of depth to Turners clearly very interesting psyche, there are
two that involve Miles Kane pretending that being friends with a rock star
makes him one too, and singing about “little girls” and doing other weird
creepy things he likes to do. It certainly
isn’t a bad record, and it’s an improvement from AM in almost every
respect. But Turner could do so much
better alone.
Charlie McCartney
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