From mid 2005, the Arctic Monkeys were already being zealously tongued in the massive stinking gob of Hype. Said to be yet another band that will be ‘the greatest thing ever ever ever’, and for this, you could be forgiven for hating them before even hearing them.

It’s not the Arctic Monkeys fault either, they were just born into a time where many people would rather put burning hot coals under their eyelids than listen to the ‘next big thing’, again. And again. It’s a shame then, that the Arctic Monkeys actually are the next big thing… No, really.

In fact, they already are. ‘Whatever People Say…’ has already sold eight billion copies in its first ten minutes or something. You can perhaps squirm whilst thinking of all the indie kids with their fashionable haircuts sitting in their bedrooms around the country, pictures of sodding Pete Doherty on their wall, desperately trying to learn all the lyrics so they can reel them off casually down their local indie-disco…. It’s all doing a disservice to the ‘Monkeys because what puts them above the cursory, beau monde trappings of contemporary indie music is their intelligence, their self-awareness, and the fact that they could find more originality and excitement in their earwax than most bands can muster in a lifetime.

Of course, you’ve probably heard all this before; it’s no accident that that the opening lines of the album talks of; ‘anticipation’ leading to ‘disappointment’. The Arctic Monkeys’ ethos – recalling Pulp, The Smiths, The Jam, The Clash, and so on – is undeniably British: the album is littered with references to discos, dancing, shit bands, violence, drink… fake tan, fruit machines, trilbys, Frank Spencer…. It’s been done before of course, where The Smiths spoke of youth culture with a flamboyant nasal flair, there remained an underlying sadness and seriousness to their music, the ‘Monkeys on the other hand depict the lives of despondent British youth through ‘funky’ bass hooks and barre chords, dancing and smiling at the monotonousness of it all.

We’d all rather than burning hot coals put under our eyelids than be told of yet another ‘next big thing’, it’s a shame then, that the Acrtic Monkeys actually are.

‘I Bet You Look Good In The Dancefloor’ you’ll already know, yet it will remain their most potent floor filler, like The Smiths’ breakthrough single This Charming Man. Thankfully, the word ‘spiky’ or ‘angular’ doesn’t really apply to the Arctic’s sound; it’s skinny white-boy punk-funk, it’s not the dilapidated, often half-arsed approach of The Libertines, it’s not as kooky, semi-seriousness of the Kaiser Chiefs, nor the arty / politically minded jingle of Bloc Party. The reason so many people have been creaming over the ‘Monkey’s is that they’re their own band, they have their influences, but they remain genuinely fresh and unique, for example, how Oasis sounded in ’94 – ‘97(ish) before becoming bloated and useless.

‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’ is the funkiest number on the album, and surely future single, ending with a plea to for the indie-sycophants to; ‘Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook’. Again, the life and times of youth culture is a recurring theme, but the band has aptitude enough to give each song its own identity. ‘Dancing Shoes’ and ‘You Probably Couldn’t…’ are chiefly under-whelming considering the charm and melody of ‘Riot Van’ and ‘Mardy Bum’, but the album ends with a hat trick of simply superb – dare I say it – ‘tunes’.

‘When The Sun Goes Down’ is probably their most distinguished song now, it’s still their most accomplished effort to date – a grim tale of prostitution and pimps – and arguably the highest peak in an album full of them. However ‘From The Ritz to the Rubble’ and ‘A Certain Romance’ hit home most prominently with the ‘Monkeys’ gift for giving voice to youth, sung with a superb Yorkshire sneer and swagger by singer/guitarist Alex Turner, ‘Romance…’ even standing its ground and attacking adolescent customs, ‘violence, pool and classic Reeboks’ whilst never sounding patronising or dismissive.

In summary then, ‘Whatever People Say…’ , is not a perfect album; neither was The Smiths’ or The Stone Roses’ eponymous debuts or Oasis’s Definitely Maybe for that matter, yet it may square up to such luminaries in zeitgeist-ial terms and credibility. It is simply a fantastic debut album from an excellent band, packed with feverish intelligence, sarcasm and satire. What impresses most is how simple they make it all seem, eloquently brushing off the burdens of expectation and becoming the most exciting and radiantly articulate British bands to emerge in years. You could even say that a small amount of media shit-storm surrounding them is justified. But, as the ‘Monkeys say; don’t believe the hype. But do. A little.