The Arctic Monkeys Hit a Glorified High Point

The Arctic Monkeys illuminate the finer points of interpersonal kookiness with "Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?" They deserve credit for knowing the right mood to set to illustrate what a drug-induced migraine must feel like, banging around the cranium as it does. Alex Turner strikes the notes you wouldn't necessarily want to encounter in a dark alley, personal posse otherwise engaged. The calendar says it's April, but the melodies spring forth from the Halloween portion of the yearly review. Crowning the spooky factor is Alex's fuzz-enhanced depth. He sounds like he's got his lips wrapped around brain scrambling substances while his girl asks his girl why his phone calls are confined to moments when he's not in his right mind. From the guitarist's end, we're fumbling around ourselves, joining Alex in his social awkwardness. Turning to the drummer's perspective, Matt Helders cracks home the goose pimple quotient as if he was trying to imitate the impatience of a steadily unhinged screen door. I feed off of this vulnerability. Whatever uncertain strides Alex is displaying I want to go where he's going, grasp the aha moments he does, if he ever comes down from the chemically heightened state he's in. The Arctic Monkeys, by adding "Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?" to the musical landscape, the Sheffield, England foursome succeed in painting the stoned individual in a totally different stripe than other tunes with "high" as the primary adjective. For example Survivor, the '80s band that scored a top 10 hit with "High On You" brought a studio slick sound to the dance. Not only that the video had enough striking blue light bulbs to make Benjamin Franklin jump out of his bloomers. In the "oughts" came Afroman's goofball charmer "Because I Got High" in which the guys demonstrate beyond a reasonable doubt how stupid it is to get high in the first place, particularly when you stand to lose both everyone and everything that's important to you. Tal Bachmann's "She's So High" flew over the din, using his dashingly belted words and plucky (pun not nearly close to being intended) guitar to cast his woman in a flattering role. The Arctic Monkeys are the most sonically accurate in their depiction. Survivor's high was fairly benevolent. Afroman is a close second primarily because you can hear the dumb asses drugs produce. Sure, it's deliberately overblown to amp up the comic effect but it worked so who's holding that against them. "Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?" zeroes in on that raw nerve ending zone, the real estate where even an encouraging statement needs coffee to sober up the senses. Alex doesn't sound like a very good paramour, nor does he have his mind on common sense things like going to bed at a reasonable hour in prep for work the next day. I doubt his three o'clock calls are going to win him many brownie points either. She's appealing to his responsible side. He's sliding down a slippery slope, time running out, options narrowing by the second. Nick O'Malley gives Alex something to keep himself propped up. His bass represents conscious awareness at its most desperate. The song makes for a oddly enigmatic juncture to the band's "AM" opus. Truth to be told "Why's You Only Call Me When You're High" is PM radio in a shaky shot glass. The Arctic Monkeys convincingly reveal that, in some cases, high notes turn out to be the best notes a fella, blitzed or sober, could ever hope to hit.