The Artic Monkeys Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not - New Vibrations

When did defiance become such an English trait? While most of the bands recently emerged from the British Isles ooze adolescent insubordination, the Arctic Monkeys, hailing from steel-manufacturing Sheffield, seem to have taken that cheekiness to a new level. Note, for example, the title of their debut album: Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. Note, too, the album's cover, featuring the glaring, cigarette-smoking countenance of the group's lead singer, Alex Turner. Listening to any one of the album's tracks will give you a good idea of the album's caffeine-fueled qualities, but certain songs highlight the group's startling eloquence, like "No time for Montagues or Capulets/Just banging tunes and DJ sets," in "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor."

However, Turner and his fellow Britons manage to combine the latter genre's cleverness with garage rock's low-key unpretentiousness. As a counterpoint to the high-octane danceability of the aptly named "Dancefloor," Turner gives us several almost entirely conversational, spoken-word tracks like "When The Sun Goes Down" and "Riot Van." These songs lack anything even closely resembling affectation. When, in the latter song, Turner matter-of-factly tells us in his Yorkshire burr about drunken exploits involving "truncheons" and "coppers," we tend to believe him.

But, all the hype aside, the Arctic Monkeys' musical talents shine through as well. With memorable guitar hooks and simple choruses, almost every song attains "catchy-as-hell" status. Other contributing factors include witty lyrics reminiscent of fellow Limeys The Streets and Turner's voice, which effortlessly switches between rough and suave. The best example of his versatility comes on "Mardy Bum." The song starts off nostalgically: Turner sweetly remembers better days and "cuddles in the kitchen" with an unnamed girlfriend, who apparently has become quite the harpy. Unsurprisingly, by the end of the song, Turner's voice turns gritty and frustrated with having "to carry on in this debate that reoccurs when you say I don't care."

In the vein of a less heroin-addled Sex Pistols or a less political Clash, the Arctic Monkeys appear to have perfected the art of transforming disobedience into damn good rock and roll. Forget afternoon tea and crumpets. Think happy hour and handcuffs.