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Concert Review of Le Scimmie Artiche (Rough Italian Translation)

After posting an entry last week about the absence of ticket scalpers at the Arctic Monkeys show at the Paradise, I expected this site to be completely not swamped with calls for an actual review of the concert. And of course, I was right. So, for all the millions who didn’t ask for it, here is my review of the show:

“The newly clean-cut Artic Monkeys, the Sheffield, England-based indie-punk-alt-pop-garage balladeers, alternately warbled and hollered their way through a 90-or-so minute set last week in front of 900+ shrieking children and their chaperone, a lone 49 year old salt-and-pepper-head in 4-inch platforms (me), who insisted on trying to ‘hold his ground’ when late-comers pushed their way onto the dance floor and let elbows fly in a violent display of affection for the music.  Les Singes Artiques, as teen chicks deep in the heart of France probably call them, pumped out songs from every era of their long, distinguished career (spanning more than 7 years!).

"In a strange turn of events, Alex Turner, the frontman of Los Monos Arcticos, as roving bands of Mexican boys very likely call them (I’m guessing), actually engaged with the crowd during the show, making him seem somewhat human in contrast to his previous, rockstaresque incarnation of long-haired detachedness. What’s up with that? At times he crooned like some kind of latter-day Dean Martin, confounding this reviewer, who checked his ticket to make sure he wasn’t at a Smiths reunion show.

"Between the main set and the mandatory 3-song encore, the kids in the audience began to chant 'Artic Monkeys, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap' like they were at a Red Sox game. Very strange indeed. But not so strange if you imagine that when these heavy-metal serenaders play in Amsterdam, the kids all chant 'Aap Noordpoolgebeid, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.'  (Probably.  I've never actually seen them Amsterdam, though, if I'm very lucky, perhaps one day I will.)"

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Monday, 18 December 2017

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