And this is supposed to be a side project? Fucking hell.
As you probably know by now, THE LAST SHADOW PUPPETS are already one of the hottest properties around, bearing in mind they are a duopoly consisting of Miles Kane (The Rascals) and, more importantly, Alex Turner from the all-conquering Arctic Monkeys. Throw in producer James Ford's gargantuan, Spectorian drumming, string arranger Owen Pallett, the 22-piece London Metropolitan Orchestra, a major John Barry fixation, several kitchen sinks and voila! - their debut album 'The Age Of The Understatement'.
It's not as simplistic as that, of course. Yes, Kane and Turner's mutual love of all things symphonic and dashing in pop from Scott Walker through to John Barry and David Axelrod may be laid bare here, but 'The Age Of The Understatement' wouldn't count for shit were it not for their respective songwriting abiltities, a succession of hugely vivid lyrical scenarios and a contemporary energy and edge that ensures the proceedings never fall into the murky mire of pastiche.
Clocking in at a frenetically exciting 35 minutes, 'The Age Of The Understatement' jettisons anything which isn't instantly exciting and memorable. The title track kicks us off and comes barrelling out of the traps on galloping drums, bursts of Bacharach-style instrumentation and sporting a neon sign reading 'cinematic' in the boldest neon lettering imaginable. Straight away, Turner (I assume?) is tossing out killer lines to describe his leading ladies ("she was walking on the tables in the glasshouse/ endearingly bedraggled in the wind") who are clearly femmes of the most fatale nature, sporting caches of diamonds and hidden switchblades judging by the lyrical contents of most of these hot-blooded psychodramas.
It's a breathlessly exciting start and the quality control steadfastly refuses to dip from that point on. Songs like 'Standing Next To You', 'Only the Truth' and the debonair 'Black Plant' also take it at a hectic clip, while lustful ambition and murder most foul lurk within the classy folds of 'Separate And Ever Deadly' and 'I Don't Like You Anymore' (which chops and changes between enigma and melancholy and a surprisingly punky rumbustiousness) comes on like a memorable walk through a particularly malevolent hall of mirrors.
If anything, though, they're possibly even more effective when they slow it down a little. 'Calm Like You' comes with more familiar Arctics-style imagery ("burglary and fireworks, the skies they were alighting/ accidents and toffee drops and thinking on the train") and is a modern kitchen sink symphony of some repute; 'My Mistakes Were Made For You' pivots gloriously around a bassline suspiciously similar to Scott Walker's 'The Old Man's Back Again', some gloriously muted trumpets and features arguably my favourite line of all ("around your crooked conscience she will wind") and 'The Meeting Place' is laid-back, bitter and smitten in the very best ways imaginable.
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Brilliantly, perhaps the best track of all is the one where they ditch much of the orchestration and concentrate on picking over the acoustic bones. Instead of the big, drama-fuelled exit I'd expected while the credits run, the closing 'Time Has Come Again' plays it gentle and understated, with Turner's reverbed vocal supported only by a lone acoustic and - latterly - a discreet wash of strings as he relates the lovelorn lyrics ("slowly walking down the steps to where she would have been/ if only they were seventeen") full of regret and squandered chances. Its' very restraint is why it's such a powerfully emotional full stop after the exhilaratingly stylish rollercoaster you've been riding for the previous half hour.
Make no mistake, 'The Age Of Understatement' is an important record and potentially the beginning of a tantalising new road should both its' participants decide to leave their respective vehicles behind. That's a contentious statement, I know, and one which only the currently unwritten future can decide, of course. Regardless of all that, though, The Last Shadow Puppets have stuck their young necks out, made an album referencing the widescreen wonder of their mid-60s heroes and come up with something magnifcently vibrant all their own.
I wish it could be 1966 again, then? Maybe. But only if it all sounded this good.
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