Arctic Monkeys: Mitsubishi Electric Halle, Düsseldorf, Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino Tour — Review
Got Arctic Monkeys tickets for their UK tour? Wonder how it’ll go? Fear not, Head of Music Alex West hopped over to Germany to get the jump on the crowds and give you the lowdown.
It was a bright summer’s day in Düsseldorf, and as I walked out of the city centre towards the suburbs where the Mitsubishi Electric Halle lay waiting, I almost felt nervous for Arctic Monkeys. They’re a band under pressure at this moment, having ended a 5 year hiatus with an album that garnered mixed reviews from critics and fans.
The setting, too, was an expectant one. The capital of North-Rhine Westphalia is steeped in cultural and musical history, from the Schumanns of the 1800s to electronic pioneers Kraftwerk, whose original ‘Kling Klang’ studio lay on the walk to the venue. This was compounded by the very apparent mix of ages and styles in the horde of some 30,000 fans assembling outside the arena. The band have changed their attire, act and look so many times, that if I was asked to describe an Arctic Monkeys fan in 2018, no clear image would spring to mind.
Of course, there were the early doors fans: shirtless, bucket-hat wearing lads, over from the North of England for a brief excursion. But they were in short supply compared to the contingent of younger German teens, older hipsters dressed in chequered shirts and jeans, and some more senior aficionados old enough to be Alex Turner’s parents. Leaving such an eclectic group happy would prove a tough task, even for an act as esteemed and experienced as the Monkeys.
The support act, Australian Cameron Avery, certainly has an impressive CV. He has fronted Perth band The Growl since they were founded in 2011, became Tame Impala’s bassist in 2013, and also joined the Arctic Monkeys as a multi-instrumentalist in their expanded backing band of 7 members for this tour. His voice, too, was absolutely stunning, the audible embodiment of ‘dulcet tones’ as he warmed the crowd up from smatterings of applause to whoops and cheers.
Having said that, the nature of Avery’s ballads did prove a docile start. All in all, despite the impressive technicality on display, not just from Avery but from his backing bassist and drummer, they did set a vibe for the evening that was more ‘Great Gatsby’ than ‘Arctic Monkeys’. I half-expected Leonardo Di Caprio to rush out from behind the curtain, beaming.
When the Arctic Monkeys took to the stage, though, that all went quickly out of the window. First the stage flashed red, as Hans Zimmer-esque drones sounded on each beat, before the band emerged, one by one, to a crescendo of applause. By the time Alex Turner waltzed into the light, the atmosphere had reached pandemonium.
If only it had lasted.
As Nick O’ Malley‘s bass kicked into the band’s first song, Four Out Of Five, the crowd kept moving, but it felt like this was out of momentum alone. The tempo of the song brought the pace of the frenzy down, and the tone immediately shifted back to the jazz club-like chill of the support, with the feel of the extended supporting cast (including three musicians on keys) creating a relaxed, not raucous, opening.
Do I Wanna Know followed, and after the questionable choice of opener this was a better pick. Alex Turner’s voice was as stunning as usual, and he was joined by the whole crowd, who instantly latched onto this song as they hadn’t its predecessor. Next up came the banger that is Brianstorm, which saw the gig’s first mosh pits and was followed by chants of “It’s Coming Home” from the English contingent, as Alex Turner engaged the crowd with his Yorkshire accent.
But sadly, this would be close to a high watermark of the night. Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair was the fourth song, with Crying Lightning close behind, and although the former had some people dancing, the local fans seemed less familiar with the latter.
The venue‘s lacklustre sense of character didn’t help. I did appreciate that fans could roam from seated to standing area easily, but the advantage of this was nullified by the status of the standing area itself; it had the first 20 metres cordoned off to a sparsely populated ‘VIP’ area. The architecture of the arena was also uninspiring — poetically described by my dad as “like a gym, or a large shed”. The sound quality was bordering on decent, but the volume low enough that the singing of a particularly out of tune, out of time fan stood behind me drowned out many of what could have been the best moments.
Things did get better, as the crowd perked up for The View From The Afternoon, and the iconic 505, with its perfect build-up and emotional, minimalist chorus was of course a highlight. However by this stage the routine had been set. Constantly changing album, and thus theme, the band struggled to sustain any sense of cohesion, leading to a disjointed, stop-start mess.
There was a prominent lull around halfway through, as the audience settled and the band rattled through new track She Looks Like Fun, a Fireside rendition including a new guitar solo, before they dipped back to Do Me A Favour, which most of the continental fans didn’t recognise. Cornerstone, with its progressive, story-based lyrics, was again poorly received.
A fleeting return to form featured when the Monkeys moved forward in time again, to Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? and Knee Socks, to an extent bringing back the euphoric environment that the show had begun to.
But the next two tracks, both from the new album, cemented in my mind the artistic direction this band are going in, and to be quite honest I’m not sure what to make of it. All night, Alex Turner had been bathed in spotlight, whilst the rest of the group dwelled in the dark, facing each other. The extra members of the band diluted the individual qualities of everyone but Turner. Matt Helders seemed especially wasted on the strolling beats of the new tracks.
Furthermore, between tracks Turner conspicuously ditched the Yorkshire accent of his younger years and crooned “that was One Point Perspective, from our new album Tranquility Base Hotel and Casinoooo… here is the title track”. Whilst this brought cheers from some, it had me bemused. Perhaps Turner intends to travel the path of David Bowie, with an evolving persona throughout his career. NME seem to think so. Whatever the reason, he could do with making it clearer.
At this moment in time, he seems halfway between a solo career and the Monkeys, leading to an awkward compromise. I have no doubt that he will go down as a legend of music. After such a blistering introduction, maybe this is an inevitable trough.
It is worth mentioning at this point, that technically the band were fantastic. If this was a dress rehearsal for their UK tour then the players were superb, yet the director wants sacking. It’s hard to see British fans being content with the Broadway-style theme that was present here.
The band closed their set with Pretty Visitors (again, a track from Humbug that was met with muted reception) and I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, a track of such velocity it never fails to get a crowd going, whether it’s at your resident pub or the largest of arenas. Nevertheless, here it was as flat as I’ve ever seen it.
It’s always interesting to see the reaction of a crowd to an encore. If an act has done their job, then the fever-pitch of the begs for a return will exceed the noise with which they entered the arena. In Düsseldorf, this was not the case, as the theatre-goers stood indifferently waiting for an inevitable reprise.
In fairness the first song Star Treatment did go down well with the locals (one nearby was visibly exultant about the rather interesting chorus “Who you gonna call/ The Martini Police?”). Arabella and R U Mine rounded out the night. It’ll be interesting to see whether they stick with these on their return to their homeland — that spot is normally reserved for 505.
Ultimately, on their UK tour, they will have a more acquainted audience, and this will lend a hand. The setlist will need tweaking for things to flow better, and more dynamic lighting focusing on the band as a whole would be a vast improvement.
Perhaps the dilemma the band face could be summed up by the ugly scenes post-performance, as I witnessed a denim jacket-clad expat spoiling for a fight with a young Yorkshireman. “You bloody weirdo”, the first said, “why have you taken your shirt off, that’s why you’re not welcome here”. The response from Rory, as I later learned he was called, was to shrug and say “he was hot, it’s what he’s used to.”
I wonder whether a young Alex Turner would have thought this was his sort of evening. If the Arctic Monkeys are to live up to their price-tag on the upcoming tour, they need to better reconcile the differences between their albums, and unite their audiences in these most divisive of times.
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