Hold the phone and forget the Engelbert Humperdinck comparisons: Arctic Monkeys still rock.
A band whose Minneapolis debut in 2007 remains one of the wildest, most frenzied First Avenue shows ever seen by this reviewer, the British rockers' ability to still light up a crowd like a Roman candle was unusually questionable going into this weekend's pair of sold-out concerts at the Armory.
Arctic Monkeys' latest album, "The Car," is one of the biggest musical duds of the past year. Full of mellow balladry and melodramatic crooning more befitting a stuffy hotel lounge than a sweaty punk-rock club, the quartet's seventh album can be held up as Exhibit A for when singers in good rock bands should split off and make solo records if they get too indulgent with the sound of their own voices or bored with their old band's tried-but-true formulas.
The frontman in question here, Alex Turner, hit the stage for Saturday's second of two Armory gigs wearing a stylish suit with rolled shirt cuffs and looking like he just stepped out of a Gucci ad. He turned on his sleek crooner voice to start the show, too.
The 37-year-old vocalist sounded like a cross between Bryan Ferry and Bill Murray's old "SNL" character Nick the Lounge Singer in the slow-bobbing opening song "Sculptures of Anything Goes."
"How am I supposed to manage my infallible beliefs?" Turner rather fittingly sang as 8,000 fans — who waited nine years for another Minnesota gig, then waited 3½ hours from the time doors opened — kept waiting for the band to finally kick into gear.
Fortunately, that opening song was only one of three from "The Car" in Saturday's set list. Friday's show was also light on tracks from the new album. The kickoff dates to the band's long-awaited U.S. tour featured largely the same songs both nights, but in a different order.
On Night 2, Turner and his bandmates immediately turned to their more devilish and higher-revving sounds of old in the second number, "Brianstorm." A highlight from their 2007 sophomore album, it showed off the band's often madcap, twisty-turvy time changes and choppy guitar riffs as Turner returned to his more snarling, manic way of singing.