Arctic Monkeys – Body Paint Review

After a resounding start to The Car hype with the release of There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, Arctic Monkeys set out to deflate expectations with Body Paint. Their second single from their upcoming seventh studio album sees a creative, articulate display of new sounds and notes just out of reach. They are particularly out of reach for frontman Alex Turner, who trades in the subtle crooning of There’d Better Be a Mirrorball for a note range he does not control or possess the skill for. It is not his bag. But when has that stopped innovators? At least Body Paint does not cartwheel its way into a well of misery and disinterest.

Disinterest and forgettability are two rare and different beasts. Body Paint presents the latter. For all There’d Better Be a Mirrorball had hints of leftover splashes of Tranquillity Base Hotel and Casino, the latest single feels unsure of what it wants to be. It clings to the iconography, pace and tone of that 2018 release, but hopes to shift itself further with looser lyrics and higher notes. It is still a quintessential Arctic Monkeys track and there is very little removing it from that space. “A master of deception, of subterfuge,” Body Paint’s opening lyric lingers, yet displaying the same aesthetic, and vintage choices Arctic Monkeys have studied in their post-Humbug days.

That is not necessarily a detraction, though. Arctic Monkeys’ growth as artists, from the guitar-heavy heyday of turning colloquial working-class mementoes of Sheffield into club anthems to a wispy track in the form of Body Paint, which sees Turner attempt a vague David Bowie vocal impression. The production is still expectedly stunning. Light strokes of orchestral necessity come through with relatively subtle importance, pairing nicely with the smooth and confident repetition of lush drumming from Matt Helders. But it all feels a bit Ziggy. A bit Five Years without the biting lyricism that paired so well with the strokes of fear on that Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars track. Instead, the looseness of Arctic Monkeys’ latest gives each band member a turn in the spotlight.

If Arctic Monkeys were trying to bring themselves “back down to Earth”, then they have failed. Thankfully so. The last thing Arctic Monkeys needed to do was to strip their progression back to basics. Body Paint takes some time to get going, but once it enters that confident chorus of body paint on forgotten legs and lost lovers, the raw and powerful strokes of innovation pour through. It is a shame it is reserved for the ebbing seconds of Body Paint. Great instrumentals pair with some lengthy lyricisms which sees Turner flex his writing muscles further and further away from catchy tunes and closer to the long-form poetry of baroque pop. His style and sophistication have always been a core concept for Arctic Monkeys, but Body Paint draws it out further. A little bit Bowie. A little bit Nick Cave. It may be shaky and a little lacking in form, especially when compared to There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, but there it is. As clear as it was under the layers of guitar that blew the eardrums of those listening to I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor all those years ago.