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Highlights von Rolling-Stone.de
Diese 24 Songs retten jedes Weihnachten
Lemmy Kilmister: Die letzten Tage im Leben des Motörhead-Sängers
Die schönsten Bilder aus „Nightmare Before Christmas“
Zum 60. Geburtstag von Eddie Vedder: Sänger für die Verlorenen
Christmas-Playlist: 10 großartige Songs zu Weihnachten
Oh, du Hässliche! Die 25 schrecklichsten Weihnachtsalben-Cover
Werbungintro.de:
Monkey Business
Viel Lärm um die Arctic Monkeys
[07.10.05 15:10]Domino, Domino, Domino: Wieder mal beschert uns das findige Label den Hype der Stunde. Und damit es nachher nicht heißt, ihr hättet von all‘ dem doch gar nichts gewusst, haben wir unseren Kollegen Heiko Behr als trojanisches Pferd ins Affenhaus geschickt. Da sitzt er zur Stunde nun und schaut mal, ob man dem ganzen wundersamen Gerede Glauben schenken darf.
Jetzt aber zu den Fakten: Die Arctic Monkeys aus Sheffield haben gerade erst ihren größten Gig vor 1.200 Zuschauern im Londoner Astoria hinter sich gebracht, gerade erst ihre erste Single „Fake Tales Of San Francisco“ veröffentlicht und gerade erst ihre erste Million Britischer Pfund entgegen genommen. Letztere für den Publishing-Deal den sie bei EMI unterschrieben, wie der NME berichtet – noch mal: ohne bisher ein Album veröffentlicht zu haben. Epic sicherte sich die Rechte für den amerikanischen Markt und legte noch mal knapp 725.000 Pfund dazu. Und während die Jungspunde noch ihre Banknoten zählen, spricht man im Mutterland jetzt schon davon, dass die Band größer als Oasis werde.
Standing on the shoulder of giants, gewissermaßen. Wir warten derweil also gespannt, was der Kollege mit geblendeten Augen zu berichten weiß.soooo fies, dass man uns hamburgern die arctic monkeys vorenthält. nächstes jahr dann in der colorline. oder so.
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)bist du denn reingekommen gestern?!
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)ins konzert?!
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)war das das konzert im astoria?
erzähl mal, wie war die stimmung…?
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)Fast and furious
They’ve only released one single, a pop-punk vignette, yet they are already Britain’s most talked-about new band. Dorian Lynskey meets Arctic Monkeys
Friday September 30, 2005
The GuardianHype wary … Arctic Monkeys
It’s a radiant late September day outside a recording studio in rural Lincolnshire. Summer is still clinging on by its fingertips, a lawnmower purrs in the background and four men are clustered around a garden table. Nothing in the way they talk, act or dress marks them out as unusual; a casual observer certainly wouldn’t take them for that well-worn music business cliche: the next big thing. But according to the people whose business it is to predict such things, that’s exactly what Sheffield’s Arctic Monkeys are.
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„We’re expecting them to do a Franz Ferdinand or a Kaiser Chiefs,“ says Mel Armstrong, rock and pop manager at HMV. „They’ve built up a massive word-of-mouth following. You can’t put a lid on it now. It’s exploding.“ The NME, meanwhile, has dubbed them „the most talked about new band in Britain“.
Asked how it feels to be the object of so much approving attention, they sigh and squirm like teenagers faced with a well-meaning but bothersome relative who wants to know how they’re getting on at school. „I dunno,“ mutters quietly spoken frontman Alex Turner. „You’ve got to go along with it really. You can’t do ‚owt about it. See what happens.“ He trails off and intensifies his gaze on the tabletop.Such is the contrast with the Arctic Monkeys‘ electrifying presence on record that I initially wonder if the real band members are inside the studio and have asked four friends to handle interview duties. Their forthcoming second single, I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor, is a blistering, three-minute romp about trying to impress a girl at a club: „There is no love, no Montagues and Capulets/ Just banging tunes and DJ sets, dirty dancefloors and dreams of naughtiness.“ The title sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy: dancefloors at indie clubs will be heaving to it for months to come. Just don’t expect the people who made it to talk it up.
„It’s a bit shit,“ Turner says apologetically. „The words are rubbish. I scraped the bottom of the barrel.“ He exhales wearily. „It could be a big song, like. But I’d hate to be just known for that song because it’s a bit“- he gropes for the right word – „crap.“
Fortunately, Arctic Monkeys make up in talent for what they lack in PR skills. For people so young – guitarist Jamie Cook is 20, the rest are 19 – they already have an enviable arsenal of songs. If you’ll forgive the simplistic comparison, their deftly observed, white-knuckle punk-pop vignettes sound something like a more muscular Libertines fronted by Mike Skinner with a thick Yorkshire accent. Fake Tales of San Francisco, the debut single they released in May, is a withering put-down of local poseurs. „Let me tell you all my problem,“ Turner sneers, stretching the syllables like a young Liam Gallagher. „You’re not from New York City, you’re from Rotherham.“
Arctic Monkeys aren’t from Rotherham; they’re from a northern suburb of Sheffield called High Green, where Turner grew up with Cook and drummer Matt Helders. They met bassist Andy Nicholson at school, and did the sort of things that bored teenagers do.
„We weren’t like yobbos,“ says Turner. „We were pretty tame.“
„We wouldn’t have got an asbo,“ Helders agrees. „Maybe borderline asbo. You might hang around with people who break into houses but it doesn’t mean you do.“
Until three years ago, they had no musical ambitions whatsoever, but that Christmas Turner and Cook both received presents of guitars and thought about forming a band. „I didn’t think stuff like that happened to normal people,“ says Helders. „You’d look at a band and think, I wonder how that happened. Then you realise your mate’s in a band so you think it’s not that hard, is it?“
They took their name from a band that Helders‘ dad played in during the 1970s. „He passed it down from generation to generation,“ says Turner. „Like a recipe.“ They readily admit their first songwriting efforts weren’t pretty. Turner would sing in a generic, quasi-American accent and write meaningless lyrics just for the sake of having something to sing. Gradually, he realised he should just write about what he observed around Sheffield, inspired by Mancunian punk poet, John Cooper Clarke. He wittily documents stroppy club bouncers (From the Ritz to the Rubble), sulky girlfriends (Mardy Bum), shady local characters (Scummy) and boozy nightlife (Dancing Shoes), humanising his wry observations with a sense of yearning romance.
„Even the songs that are more personal are done in that observational way because it’s not as close to the bone,“ he explains. „People can’t get at me and say, ‚Who’s that about then?‘ It’s a bit like you’re hiding behind something. Sometimes when you write summat and you come to sing it first time in practice, instead of ‚I‘ you put ‚he‘, without even thinking about it. I dunno, it’s hard to explain but it’s easy to do.“
Two years ago, they recorded their first demos, posting them on their website and handing them out at gigs. At the dawn of the download era, when the major labels were beginning their long nervous breakdown over copyright, more optimistic observers predicted that unknown bands would be able to build a following by giving away their music instead of zealously guarding it. Arctic Monkeys are decisive proof that this works. Although they’ve only released one single, a diligent fan can have a collection of around 20 free downloads. Standout songs such as A Certain Romance („There’s only music so that there’s new ringtones“) are much-loved anthems before they’ve even been released.
After this year’s Mercury Prize was announced, music industry website Record of the Day invited subscribers to predict the names on next year’s shortlist. Somebody named the Arctic Monkeys‘ debut album, despite the fact that barely a note had been recorded (it’s now almost finished, and slated for a January release). „I’m quite amused by that,“ says Record of the Day’s Paul Scaife. „It’s amazing that they haven’t even made it yet and it already has that feel about it.“
The band’s hype-wary manager decided they wouldn’t call any labels or play any London shows – they’d let the buzz build by itself. Last Christmas, around the time the band realised that unfamiliar faces at gigs were mouthing every word, the A&R pack descended. Arctic Monkeys weren’t impressed („Coming round and telling us what’s wrong with yer,“ sniffs Helders) and chose to sign with independent label Domino, the home of Franz Ferdinand. „With a label like that, you’re talking to the person who owns it,“ says Turner. „If he likes us, you can’t really go wrong. He’s really passionate about his music and that. It just seemed right.“
Before they were signed, Turner and Helders were considering university; Cook only quit his job as a tiler in May; Nicholson was on the dole. „I’d have been a builder or summat,“ says the bassist in the gruff, deadpan tone that seems to be his default setting. „I’m a big lad. I can carry bricks. I’d have built a house on my own.“
„You’d have been a property developer,“ says Helders.
Nicholson ponders this for a moment. „I’d have took over the world, I think.“
When they started writing songs, the only bands all four could agree on were Oasis and the Coral. It’s strange to think that when Definitely Maybe came out, the future members of Arctic Monkeys were only eight or nine, and that Noel Gallagher is old enough to be their dad. „How old’s he out of Franz Ferdinand?“ asks Cook.
I tell him Alex Kapranos is 33.
„Thirty-three!“ he says incredulously.
„We’re the Macaulay Culkins of this game, aren’t we?,“ says Helders. „We’ll get the child star curse.“ Cook agrees. „I’ll get to 25 – boom!“ He enthusiastically mimes blowing his head off. „Everyone always sells more when they shoot theirself.“
Nicholson warms to the idea of life at 25. „He’s“ – pointing to Helders – „going to buy a pub, he’s“ – indicating Turner – „going to live on an island. I’m going to go crazy and burn a studio and lose all the tapes of our best album ever.“
This is not entirely improbable, given that Nicholson spends most of the interview restlessly flicking a clipper lighter. He holds it against the bottom of the tabletop until a thread of smoke rises up. Helders looks disapproving but unsurprised. „Don’t set that on fire,“ he scolds.
All in all, Arctic Monkeys don’t appear to take themselves overly seriously, which can only be to their advantage. They may be guaranteed to top most people’s tip lists for 2006, but such feverish anticipation can be a poisoned chalice: for every Franz Ferdinand there is a 22-20s. Scaife sounds a note of caution: „These buzzes become self-perpetuating so something becomes bigger than it really is just because people are talking about it. I think they’ll sell a reasonable amount but not a staggering amount.“
Whatever happens, Turner plans to take it all in his stride. „When you want it and you get obsessive, you mould yourself to be whatever they want you to be. I think because we weren’t obsessive about it we’ve got a bit more bollocks.“
„We’re better than fucking … ,“ Cook begins, before thinking better of it.
„Come on!“ chides Nicholson. „Well, I’ll say it. We’re the best band in the country.“ But he can’t sustain the bravado and his face cracks into a smile. „No we’re not.“
The thing is, he might just be right.
· I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor is out on Domino on October 17.
netter artikel btw
firecrackerwar das das konzert im astoria?
erzähl mal, wie war die stimmung…?
ja, halt 1200 Leute
also bei mir ganz vorne war die Stimmung gut, is halt so in der Mitte des Sets dann doch etwas heftig mit dem Druecken geworden, viele Crowdsurfer…
im Astoria waren ja oben die Raenge auch voll, da war sone Bar
und irgendwie gabs da auch Stress, ein paar Fights und umherfliegende Dosen wie ich’s gehoert hab, sie haben sogar nen Song gestoppt um die Leute zu ‚ermahnen‘
naja,
das Set war halt mini, vielleicht 40 Minuten?
und viele Songs haben gefehlt, z.B. Bigger Boys, Choo Choo, Curtains Close…
solln paar „Celebrities“ dagewesen sein, also Jo Whiley (falls die jemand kennt) und Zane Low
ach und der Sound war klasse,
es wurde auch gefilmt, mit 5 Kameras, aber wie ich gehoert hab fuer ne japanische Dokuwas halt irre war is, dass um 7 aufgemacht wurde und so halb 6 schon ne Riesenschlange bis um die Ecke ging
oha. klingt ja wirklich nach „next big thing“…. oder „next massive thing“. oder so.
die hätten ja auch gleich n eigenes label gründen und ihr album darüber veröffentlichen können, denn es würde sich ja auch ohne promotion und so hervorragend verkaufen…! aber vielleicht wär ihnen der aufwand auch zu groß gewesen……
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)klasse artikel.
On the eve of chart success, Xan Phillips describes his first encounter with the Sheffield four-piece phenomenon…
For a band to make their mark on music history it requires hard work, great songs, loyal fans and that stroke of luck which seems to bless a few and narrowly miss many.
The same could be said of members of the audience. All of us would love to have been in the crowd at early gigs by U2, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, or The Beach Boys.
It wouldn’t have been easy in the 1960s or 70s to be in the right place at the right time. You would have to have been a friend of the band, or just a regular at the venue to be able to witness an early gig of one of the above acts.
In our modern world it is much easier to be ‘there’. All you need is a keen ear for the buzz, a cunning eye for reading the right blogs, forums and music web sites, plus a credit card in order to buy the tickets.
With these tools of the trade you could easily see all the new bands that have potential. One of them is bound to make it big and you could then simply claim to have ‘been there’ when it mattered.
Or you could just rely on luck and this is how I arrived at the Dublin Castle, on April 5th 2005, for a classic moment in pop history.
I’m a podcaster and was making a feature on grunge-funksters Charlie Says who were first on the bill and friends of mine.
Also playing were Arctic Monkeys and Eskimo Disco. I had heard of neither and judging by the names was expecting cold synthesisers and chilly animal madness.
But the gig had sold out. This was due to Arctic Monkeys fans buying most of the tickets. Their manager had quite rightly claimed they should be given top billing and Eskimo Disco felt the chill of wind of disappointment.
Once I began to interview people in the bar, it became obvious that many were very excited about seeing this Sheffield four-piece and a pattern of movement began to emerge.
Word of mouth had drawn some there: one girl was told about them on holiday by a Spanish teenager. Others had downloaded the songs from the Internet thanks to recommendations from friends.
Naturally some people were from the band’s home town or were just loyal followers, but these you would expect.
It was the Internet and devotion that had helped the buzz grow: this wasn’t hype, this was organic growth. Naturally I was very excited at the prospect and realised that this could be one of those moments to record and savour.
The atmosphere in the venue before the band came on was wonderful. The back room of the Dublin Castle was filled with a rumble of contained joy.
You couldn’t hear what people were saying but you could sense the excitement and anticipation in their voices. We watched the band set up their equipment.
Although I must admit I didn’t know which was band and which was roadie, by deduction I can tell you they had maybe one roadie and no technical help.
Just themselves, in their everyday clothes, stopping to have a quick chat with regulars at the front of the stage. They then disappeared.
The room filled with the last people from the bar. The fog of cigarette smoke thickened. The heat rose. And then the lights went down.
Once again the band, this time to roars, shouts and a scream, walked through the crowd and climbed on the stage.
“I blame the parents,” says the singer, and then they propel themselves into their opening number, soon to be their first chart-bound release: “I bet you look good on the dance floor.”
I must quote the chorus: “Well I bet that you look good on the dance floor. Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984. From 1984!”
It just made me laugh and I didn’t take long to be convinced that this band had the potential to make their mark on the nation’s ear drums.
They were musically tight, lyrically spot-on and had energy. The audience loved them, really loved them and when they all sang along to ‘When The Sun Goes Down’ I was taken aback, tickled, delighted and convinced that Arctic Monkeys were going to places that most band dream of.
For them this was not a new phenomenon. Fans have been doing this at small Artic Monkey gigs up and down the country but in the ‘cool’ heights of London town – where many people watch bands with their arms folded and with their feet firmly on the floor – the Arctic Monkeys were whipping up a storm.
So much so, that there were two stage invasions. It wasn’t in protest. It was just that the audience and the band were becoming one living thing. They wanted to be on the stage, to sing the words, act the part of performing the songs, and the band didn’t mind.
But without these songs the fans wouldn’t care. The lyrics are a brilliant observation of life from the perspective of a youthful eye; even I can see parallels between my early days and the ones they talk about.
I think Artic Monkeys will cross generations because the music is their version of a familiar sound, the lyrics reflect our modern world and the band are just honest, hard-working people.
Six months later 2,000 people saw them at the Astoria in London, their UK tour has sold out and they are just about to enter the top 10 of the UK charts.
At the Dublin Castle I had my dose of luck. For once I was there, when ‘there’ was the place to be.
(vom graham coxon-board, sorry, hab keine quelle)
und ich muss die posts hier mal eben reinkopieren (vom gleichen board)
Arctic Monkeys live at „In The City“ – October ’05
zippety zip…
http://www.savefile.com/projects.php?pid=598227
——-at that gig they played with nine black alps. the alps were headlining…..which was a BIG mistake. the place went spaz mental for the monkeys, naturally. they finished their set…and virtually everyone left! mass exodus! leaving the alps to play to hardly anyone. oops.
it was the same at leeds, i felt so sorry for dogs who were on after them… they were on the smallest stage miles down the bill so they only got half an hour and when they said we have to go so the next band can come on the whole crowd just went, „BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!“… shame… i really like dogs…
:laola0:
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)ihr kleinen hyper!!
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aber sie haben´s ja verdient. außerdem gehen sie sehr cool mit all dem wirbel, der um sie gemacht wird, um. wirken nicht irgendwie abgehoben oder so.
und endlich war mal ne band und eine szene schneller als der nme. :dance: ist doch cool, dass es ne band geschafft hat, ohne marketing-strategien, erfolgreich zu werden und in ausverkauften hallen vor mehr als 2000 leuten aufzutreten. wie in dem zurvor geposteten artikel richtig beschrieben, hat sich ja alles ganz natürlich entwickelt (die band tourt ja schon länger…). ein hoch auf´s file-sharing! :bier: die (erste richtige) single geht übrigens, wie´s aussieht auf 1 am montag (im uk). oder wurde das schon erwähnt?!
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Dirty, dirty feet from the concert in the grass / I wanted to believe that freedom there could last (Willy Mason)
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