KEY POINTS:
Sarcasm may be the lowest form of wit. But delivered in a few well-chosen words fired by a decent tune - see also the Beatles, the Kinks, the Who, the Sex Pistols, Elvis Costello, Radiohead, Blur - it can quickly become something quite thrilling. Less low wit, than lyrics to live by and shout aloud.
The Arctic Monkeys proved they had a gift for finding the perfect meeting point of melody and mockery on last year's breakthrough Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. That made them genuine Next Big Things.
Its songs might have been largely set on the streets of hometown Sheffield, but the words of frontman Alex Turner still caught the imagination of audiences half a world away, helped by a band able to fold funk into punk but keep those hooks punching up front.
And here, on their rapidly arriving follow-up second album, they've done it again.
Now, it might not have quite same urchin charm or the surprise-factor of its predecessor. And its songs may focus less on the street level vignettes and more about the life in dressing and hotel rooms that has followed all that international overnight success.
But with the music even more muscular and gear-crunching in its tempos - replacement bassist Nick O'Malley certainly earns his keep and this is a band who can turn on a sixpence - and Turner sounding quite beautifully scathing throughout, it makes Favourite Worst Nightmare a bigger, bolder affair than the first.
Better though? Well any album that erupts into life, all jungle drums and jagged guitars (as it does on Brianstorm), chucks in stop-start, possibly Gang of Four-influenced, guitar-fired art- funk (on D is for Dangerous, Balaclava, Yellow Bricks, This House is a Circus), catches its breath on a dreamy David Lynch-esque torch tune (Only Ones Who Know), then finishes off with the slow-surging psychedelia (on the closing track 505), sure has something going for it.
But as we were saying about the sarcasm, it's there from Turner's first words - you wouldn't want to be named Brian once Brianstorm takes hold ("Brian ... top marks for not trying") with its portrait of a fast-talking dedicated follower of fashion the Monkeys encountered on tour somewhere.
Elsewhere, Duran Duran are neatly magpied on the lyrics to Teddy Picker before Turner ponders: "Who'd want to be men of the people, when there's people like you ...". While on the bouncy Blur-ish Fluorescent Adolescent, he charts a woman's slide into domestic dreariness ("You used to get it in your fishnets. now you only get it in your nightdress ...") while there's more ponderings of sex and guilt and being a long way from home on The Bad Thing.
But home is where the heart of the closing parts of this album lie - on Old Yellow Bricks the telling line is "Dorothy was right though" while the homesick blues are even stronger on the dreamy finale of 505.
It starts off sarcastic and ends up curiously tender. In between Favourite Worst Nightmare is a dream-run of vibrant words and vital music. Two albums into their short career, it looks like the Arctic Monkeys will be next on that above list of Britrock greats who gave sarcasm a good name.
Verdict: Well that's it then. They are the Great British band of their generation
Label: Domino
