The Wake

On May 7th, the Arctic Monkeys sailed into First Avenue on a wave of hype and high expectations. They didn’t disappoint. The venue was swelling with British pride and swagger. The Monkey’s crew of roadies were some of the most overtly British creatures seen outside of a Guy Ritchie movie. They bantered amongst themselves, none too shy of vulgarities, or to the same obscure slang heard in Arctic Monkeys’ songs, recognizable only to born-and-raised Brits. The majority claimed large beer bellies from endless eves spent at the pub. The one skinny roadie earned the title of strangest with his long, blonde ponytail and his cut-off denim plum smugglers. In the crowd, soccer jerseys were common and the chants heard at Premiership games across the pond echoed off the walls. On top of this, an entire British Rugby team made their way into the building. They wore matching t-shirts and devious, drunken smirks. One sported British flag pants with a cut-off British flag t-shirt and several wore large Halloween wigs. It was 25 minutes before the Arctic Monkeys took the stage and the crowd had already reached frenzy.

As they played the majority of their catalog, every expectation was fulfilled and surpassed The crowd became a chorus of slurred syllables and drunken chants as they sang along with every word The large rugby players pushed their way about, making frequent trips to the bar for more beer. The show continually pushed the boundaries of control. Things were often thrown on stage and people were thrown from their spots as songs marched and flurried to their charging conclusions. First Avenue security was attempting to make their presence known, but showed clear apprehension considering the plethora of sizable Brits. At one point, one of the fatter rugby players found himself on stage. No real effort was made to stop him while he danced a bit before face planting out of sheer drunkenness. He culminated his trip to the stage with a running dive that took down a good number people. The stage banter was witty and the band exuded with due confidence. Turner leaned over his microphone, spilling word after word, leading the crowd as they chanted along with him. Lead guitarist Cook forced each riff out with quick strikes of hand, his face contorted in a Keith Richards-esque disconcerted cool. Drummer Matt Helders was treated to a rousing rendition of happy birthday, as it was his 21st. He played furiously while adding his backing vocals along with bassist Nick O’Malley. Maybe it was the fact that Arctic Monkeys shows sell out instantly in the U.K, or that they were playing so few dates in the U.S., but it was one of the most action packed shows played for an incredibly responsive audience—one for the ages by all accounts.