The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, November 6, 2015 — 5A
Arctic Monkeys:
A perf teen band
Alex Turner turned
me on to British
indie power-snark
By ADAM THEISEN
Senior Arts Editor
Arctic Monkeys had every-
thing you want out of music
when you’re just becoming a
teenager: relatable lyrics, huge
choruses and a hot-as-hell lead
singer with an accent. They
caught on ridiculously quick in
the U.K., where Whatever People
Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not
became the fastest-selling debut
record in the country’s history,
but their highest charting single
in the U.S. is 2013’s “Do I Wanna
Know,” which only peaked at no.
70. I found Arctics through the
mind-reading streaming service
Pandora — a site I have remained
intensely loyal to ever since—
when I was in eighth grade, and
from then on, even with friends
who mostly listened to indie
rock and pop punk, I felt like I
was privy to a huge secret, the
only one in America who could
find the band’s hometown of
Sheffield on a map of England or
knew what the phrase “Mardy
Bum” meant.
To some, this alone might
disqualify
me
from
calling
myself a hardcore fan, but I only
ever learned two of the band
members’ names — there’s the
cyclone that is Matt Helders on
drums, and there’s Alex Turner
on vocals. That’s okay, though,
because — at least to young me —
Turner was everything. He was
the voice that had full control
over every wild track, he was the
dude with the messy hair and
gorgeous eyes looking out from
magazine covers, and he was the
ever-cool frontman I fell in love
with. When Turner was singing
about being snarky to cops or
cutting down a pretentious rival
or throwing a tantrum because
a bouncer wouldn’t let him into
a club, I was right behind him,
agreeing with every word he said
and just listening in wonder-
ment at the fact that you could
be sarcastic or clever or just a
complete dickhead in a song and
make it sound like poetry. Early
Arctics is like Oscar Wilde front-
ing The Strokes — just a char-
ismatic beauty with a hilarious
superiority complex asserting
his dominance over brilliantly
in-sync garage guitars. Even
though, at the time, I couldn’t
totally put into words why I was
so obsessed with Turner, he was
always the magnetic presence
that put Arctic Monkeys miles
ahead of their contemporaries.
I could probably write a full
article on every single song
from Whatever…’s lineup, but
key to the whole enterprise was
“I Bet You Look Good on the
Dancefloor,” the lead single that
announced the arrival of the
world’s next rock stars. Post-
modern with its Duran Duran
and
Shakespeare
references
while utterly timeless in its tale
— boy meets girl, boy wants to
fuck girl — “Dancefloor” was
indie cleverness mixed with
mainstream rock force. It’s
impossible to ignore, a perfect-
for-any-occasion party-starter
that everyone loved.
But
it
was
“A
Certain
Romance,” the album’s final
song, that closed its grip on my
heart. Set up more theatrically
than any of the sub-three-min-
ute pop songs on the rest of the
record, a long drumroll and some
pretty guitar strumming open
the curtain on the singer. Young
Alex Turner does this amazing
thing with his voice where he
doesn’t lose a lick of his working-
class Dickens character accent
when he sings, making the first
verse just a delightful swoon-
worthy run of pronunciations
like “poonch” for “punch” and
“int” for “isn’t.” That local color
is perfect for the scene, because
Turner spends the song wander-
ing some bar in his hometown,
loving the assholes who are his
old friends and scrapping with
the ones who aren’t. It’s just a
short survey, a quick lookaround
of the band’s roots, and yet that
song still stands up as one of
their best, the sport of bold work
that tells you everything you
need to know about an artist to
realize that they’re something
special.
I finally fulfilled my dream
of seeing Arctic Monkeys live
about a year and a half ago, and
it was everything I wanted and
more, but I don’t think they’re
my favorite band anymore.
That’s always a weird thing
to just decide, but Whatever
People Say I Am, That’s What
I’m Not, in particular, is one of
those records I have committed
to memory and don’t really
pull out for listening very
much anymore. Writing this
piece, I have found that I still
remember it all perfectly, from
the overlaps in the guitar parts
to Matt Helders’s early flashes
of virtuosity on drums, but
Turner’s not quite the idol I once
thought he was. To be honest, if
I was a Sheffielder who knew
young Alex Turner, I’d probably
still love him, but I’d also hate
his guts. As frenetic and fun
as the record is, it’s just a little
juvenile to love unconditionally
forever.
But the more I think about it,
the more I think I understand
why almost nobody goes on to
marry the first person they love.
It’s an exciting, world-opening
event to discover a person or a
new thing that makes you feel
amazed and special, but usu-
ally that happens when you still
have a lot of growing left to do.
Whatever People Say I Am was
a beautiful whirlwind of new
realizations, a huge marker in
my young life that I memorized
front to back, wrapping my ears
around every guitar arrange-
ment, backing vocal and beau-
tifully British turn of phrase,
and though I still get chills of
nostalgia when I hear it today,
I’m happy that I’m not still tied
down to it.
Mixed results for top
broadcast networks
TV NOTEBOOK
By ALEX INTNER
Daily Arts Writer
Now that it’s November, it
seems like the right time to take a
step back and reflect on the highs
and lows of this season’s network
ratings. Overall, they have been
a mixed bag for broadcast net-
works. Though there have been
sizeable hits, there have been too
many new shows that are either
scoring average or poor numbers
to call this season a success.
ABC has found some winners
in its lineup, but the disappoint-
ments are not small. This is par-
ticularly true for “The Muppets,”
whose ratings have been nothing
short of a letdown. The show pre-
miered nicely, bringing in 9 mil-
lion viewers and a 2.9 rating in the
18-49 demographic. However, the
ratings only declined from there,
stabilizing at 4 million view-
ers and a 1.4 demo rating. That
can’t be what ABC was imagin-
ing when they ordered the series
and gave the show all the promo-
tion they could, pitching it to the
same audience which turned out
in droves to the 2011 movie. That
show isn’t the only one which
ABC is unhappy about. Also, both
“Blood & Oil” and “Wicked City”
bombed, with the former earning
below a 1.0 key-demo rating for
the past three airings and having
its episode order cut. The latter
failed to even hit a 1.0 demo rat-
ing in its series premiere, which
seemed to dominate every ad
break on ESPN for the past sev-
eral weeks.
However, ABC does have ele-
ments of its schedule that it can
celebrate, the most important of
which is “Quantico.” The show
stars Priyanka Chopra, who was
unknown in America but one of
Bollywood’s biggest stars before
the series began. Apparently, she
has a fan base here, too, because
the show has averaged a 1.7 rat-
ing through its first five airings.
While that number might not
be remarkable on its own, it’s a
50-percent improvement from
what “Revenge” was doing in
the Sunday 10 p.m. timeslot last
season. It has also doubled its
“Blood & Oil” lead-in on multiple
occasions.
Because of Thursday Night
Football, it’s a little early to tell
the story of CBS’s season. The
eight weeks of football games
held back both the majority
of CBS’s Thursday series and
its most important new show,
“Supergirl.” The series flew
high for CBS in its premiere,
with 13 million viewers and a
3.1 in the demo, but one air-
ing is too little to call a show a
hit. However, the Eye is defi-
nitely celebrating the launch of
“Limitless,” whose ratings have
stabilized at 8 million viewers
and a 1.4 in the key demo. The
series holds the majority of its
“NCIS: New Orleans” lead-in
and has improved the year-to-
year timeslot performance by a
few tenths (“Person of Interest”
was in the slot last year).
FOX is lucky that it still has
“Empire,” which is saving the
schedule from being a complete
letdown. That show is still a
massive ratings giant, averag-
ing a 5.36 through its first four
airings. That number makes it
the top scripted show on net-
work television right now. How-
ever, the rest of FOX’s schedule
has underperformed. Several of
their returning shows are facing
year-over-year declines, includ-
ing “Gotham,” which is running
about 30 percent below what it
was doing last fall. “Sleepy Hol-
low” has also scored series lows
most weeks of the new season. In
addition, “Minority Report” had
the distinction of being the first
outright bomb of the season —
opening to a 1.1 18-49 rating and
declining from there.
But the biggest disappoint-
ment
of
FOX’s
schedule
is
“Scream
Queens.”
The
cast
includes big names like Jamie
Lee Curtis, Nick Jonas and Ari-
ana Grande who have fan bases
from past work, and the network
gave the show a huge market-
ing push, with ads for the show
airing as far back as February.
Though the series adds another
50 percent to its live rating when
a week’s worth of DVR viewing
is factored in, the most recent
airing earned a paltry 1.0 18-49
rating, which is low no matter
which measure you use. It might
squeak out a renewal because of
creator Ryan Murphy’s pedigree
and the love for him in the FOX
Networks Group, but it won’t be
because of ratings.
The one big caveat to every-
thing mentioned here: It’s still
early in the season, and a lot of
this season’s story has yet to be
told. It’s possible that midsea-
son series can help some falling
schedules (especially for FOX,
which has both “American Idol”
and a revival of “The X-Files”
waiting in the wings). However,
the fall picture is fairly clear at
this point, and it’s certainly tell-
ing a story of ups and downs.
MY FIRST FAVORITE ALBUM
I
’m greedy. I’m predomi-
nantly greedy in regards to
food and sleep (that thing
I really want that I never seem
to have). Though after further
self-exami-
nation, I’ve
discovered
my insatiable
greed for
any episte-
mological
knowledge
that’s even
tangentially
fashion-
related, but
it’s a curse. I
endlessly read and painstakingly
reread anything and everything
industry-centric to the point
where it all melds together in
my mind. Striving for sensibil-
ity, I then resort to staring at
my magazine cutout-clad wall
to remind myself why I pine for
every morsel of insight on this
hectic, unpredictable and elusive
sphere. Even a quick glance to
my makeshift wallpaper reminds
me why fashion is where I need
to work (read: live, it’s 2015) and
breathe. Though I’ll admit to
cancelling plans and arrange-
ments out of sheer greediness to
absorb the ins and outs of what I
intend to pursue, I know my self-
indulgence isn’t always worth
forgoing a shot at fun (or a round
of shots, for the record).
Though I complain about
not having enough time for
X, Y and Z, it turns out I do. I
greedily prioritize what I really
want to dwell on, whether it’s
outsourcing inspiration for my
next column or printing out that
NYT recipe for vegan brownies
and contemplating the perks
and drawbacks of adapting the
diet. I have these luxuries, these
greed-tinged
little
luxuries.
Ironically, the frontrunners of
the luxury fashion world can’t
even find time for luxury.
When I began my fashion-
arced odyssey in high school, I
came across a Tom Ford OWN
documentary
on
YouTube.
In the opening monologue,
Ford speaks candidly about
his infamous career burnout
that
prompted
his
partly
autobiographical
directorial
debut of 2009. After designing
16 collections annually and
alternating
between
Yves
Saint Laurent and Gucci, he
was lethargic, drained and
uninspired.
“I didn’t know who I was, I
didn’t know who I was supposed
to be,” he says, reflecting on the
dark ages.
With his film rendition of
Christopher Isherwood’s novel
“A Single Man,” Ford told the
calamitous tale of his midlife
crisis,
albeit
concealed
by
stunning cinematography and
Julianne Moore and Colin Firth
equally slaying ’60s wardrobes.
He translated both his lost
direction and irretrievable time
onto the screen. By drawing
a veil of beauty over the
unfavorable realities, he echoed
the general trends of fashion’s
business tactics. We so often
forget that simple fact behind
the gems and silhouettes — the
truth that fashion, at the end of
the day, is a business.
A later jaunt in my solo
fashion research led me to
a Ford maxim — “Time and
silence are the most luxurious
things today” — words that have
recently reverberated in the
wake of two prominent French
creative directors abdicating
their
couturier
thrones.
Two weeks ago, Raf Simons
announced
his
departure
from Dior, an unexpected exit
to say the least. Particularly
evinced throughout the spring
documentary
‘Dior
and
I,’
Simons was the brand’s perfect
fit, requiring zero alterations.
He
honed
his
indelible
creativity and maintained an
unmatched synchronicity from
collection to collection. But he
ultimately decided to focus on
his eponymous label after three
glorious years at the house.
After Alber Elbaz accepted
his
well-deserved
Superstar
award at the recent Fashion
Group International Night of
Stars, he commended Simons’
choice in earnest and alluded to
his own impending departure
from the helm of Lanvin. Aware
of his speech’s time constraints,
Elbaz opened with a retort: “I
need more time,” he said. “And
I think everybody in fashion
these days needs just a little
more time.”
When I first read Elbaz’s
words in the Women’s Wear
Daily review of the night, I
recalled Ford’s adage, “Time
and
silence
are
the
most
luxurious things today.” Elbaz’s
speech
wasn’t
merely
him
gracing the audience with his
signature wisdom and wit; it
was a sartorial call to action, a
refrain from ‘luxurious’ silence.
He exhausted the exhaustion
of
fashion’s
relentless
pace
impinging
on
the
creative
process, along with reminding
the audience of a designer’s
constant time crunch — the
elite required to churn out six
collections annually, often six
months before their intended
season. A few days after, Elbaz
announced his departure after
14 years at Lanvin.
On
the
endless
list
of
designers
I
research
and
pretend to know on a personal
level, Raf and Alber have been
tied second for years (sorry
boys, Ford stole my heart during
the formative years). But within
my own sophomoric sartorial
pursuits, I sense the pressure
on
the
industry’s
doyens
sublimated into the pressure I
put on myself to keep up with
its ever-accelerating pace.
Like any art form, fashion is
complex and irreducible. Before
a
collection’s
debut,
which
demands an ample digestion
and
appreciation
period
for the masses, it requires
weeks, months, years or even
lifetimes worth of inspiration
and planning, but above all, a
designer’s heart and soul. I can
only image that with amended
annual requirements and an
augmented time window to
explore creative triggers, my
beloved,
wunderkind
and
pretend-friend designers can
reclaim their identities and
better imbue them into every
collection. I’m confident that
Elbaz’s industry critique will
catalyze much needed change.
Until then, I’ll hold on to my
luxuries.
Filips is literally watching
beagle videos on YouTube right
now. To bark at that bitch,
email carofil@umich.edu.
STYLE COLUMN
The rare luxury of
spare time
CAROLINE
FILIPS
Turning five with
‘No Strings Attached’
MY FIRST FAVORITE ALBUM
By KEN SELANDER
Daily Arts Writer
The year was 2000. The
date was August 12. It was
my fifth birthday. I had a
birthday
present
list,
and
atop that treasured piece of
parchment
was
the
album
holding the beloved “Bye Bye
Bye.” Admittedly, I thought the
Backstreet Boys sung the track,
but my friend was smart enough
to do some research and find
that the song was performed by
NSYNC, the other prominent
boy band of the era.
I was ecstatic when I found
the No Strings Attached CD
— remember CDs? — among
my presents. The cover art is
standard boy band material.
After my party I cracked it open
and inserted it into my bulky,
green CD player and listened. I
think we can all agree: having
the No Strings Attached CD was
as cool as it got in kindergarten.
And don’t lie to me — you
know that shit is still hot. “Bye
Bye Bye” is the opening track,
and I was immediately satisfied
to hear what I considered
the hottest song in the world.
“Just Got Paid” and “Bringin’
da Noise” were solid hype-
up songs to jam to in the car
before soccer games. You know,
the kind where the goals were
little prop-up nets and half of
the team stands around picking
dandelions.
Upon
further
listening, “Space Cowboy” was
decidedly my other favorite
song with its twangy pop
sound. The family room in my
house has high ceilings, and
I remember throwing pillows
high in the air while dancing
around to the record. I probably
definitely tried to beatbox at
some point, too.
What’s past is past. At least
I didn’t keep thinking it was
something worthwhile to spend
my free time doing past the first
grade and into high school. My
NSYNC CD listening prime took
place during a simpler time.
Granted, I could still sing along
to five of the songs with reason-
able accuracy, but that’s beside
the point. Just as I remem-
ber standing outside at recess
around the start of first grade,
reminiscing with my classmate
Cooper on the joys of Kinder-
garten — namely having two
recesses — I am now a senior in
college with lots of good memo-
ries of college rooted in music.
There’s waking up at 7:30
a.m. for football tailgates to the
sound of Thin Lizzy or DMX
before any other students in
the city seem to have awoken,
shouting along to Sugarland
with friends late at night, or just
walking around our beautiful
campus with the Arctic Mon-
keys or J Cole in my earbuds.
While my new musical memo-
ries only infrequently include
NSYNC, they still bring me back
to a more carefree time.
JIVE
:What are thiiiiiiiiissss?”