Notes - The music blog
Notes: Exploring Sheffield: Marta sees... Arctic Monkeys @ Sheffield Arena
Every Wednesday, Marta brings a slice of the Mediterranean to Sheffield to see if the music scene really differs at all.
I bought the tickets for Arctic Monkeys’ concert in Sheffield three days after I arrived in the city.
It was September the 22nd, one month and three weeks before the actual gig, and I was with an Italian friend of mine in a Spanish restaurant in Meadowhall. We were both newly settled and felt we should have done something more properly local than eating ethnic stuff in a mall; so we decided to blow our budget and buy the tickets, even though the gig was sold out already and it would have cost a lot. But after all: Arctic Monkeys from Sheffield in Sheffield, how cool was that? Coming from Italy, we both had never even heard of the city before they came on the scene. Excitement mounted up day after day: my friend was a long-term fan, I used to think they were incredibly overrated but I had really loved the new album.
By the day of the concert, tension had reached its climax. It was all about looking as much of a Sheffielder as possible for the event and trying to get to the Arena on time for being in the first row. After the disillusionment of finding out that in Sheffield too there are Starbucks, H&M and all those hideous chains that simply replicate themselves over and over making any city identical to any other on a random parallel, Arctic Monkeys playing in Sheffield looked as unique as the Parthenon.
Now, before talking about the concert, I do feel the responsibility of making a preface: on that very same day some scum stole my laptop by breaking the window of my room and helping himself while I was in the kitchen preparing lunch. They immediately arrested him but not before he could get rid of my adored pc; police told me they might call again at night in case they had news, so I spent the entire concert holding the camera in one hand and my mobile in the other, begging for a phone call.
Arctic Monkeys really helped, too. As I said before, I am a converted fan, and that made me the most enthusiastic supporter of the kids. But the concert was just boring. I was probably expecting too much from the fact they were playing home, but at least an, “I remember when we played at The Harley”, “Thanks for coming here, I hope Alastair or Woodrow or whatever my kindergarden’s best friend is called is here tonight”, or “Hey, I used to work as a cleaner in this place!!”, would have been appreciated. Instead they arrived on stage, Alex Turner moaned something like, “Hello Sheffield”, and then just played an endless list of cute motifs, which actually reminded me of why I used to not like them: a two minute song is just bullshit, especially live. But being cold and snobbish to the crowd, even if it’s your hometown and you’re probably playing in front of your very first fans is not the worst part. The worst part is that they are not a 19 year-old phenomenon anymore and it’s time they learn how to play without looking at the strings all the time. I had already seen them in 2006 in Italy, and they have not got any better. They only have longer, more irritating haircuts.
By the end of the concert I was playing much more attention to the crowd than to the band: it was a more interesting sight and by all means, a better glimpse of the city.
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