Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino - 2018 Alt Rock 180 Grm LP + Pic Insert
Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino
Domino – WIGLP339
Vinyl, LP, Album, 180 Gram
180 Gram black vinyl
incuded pic insert
gatefold jacket with download code.
USA & Canada
11 May 2018
A1 Star Treatment
A2 One Point Perspective
A3 American Sports
A4 Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino
A5 Golden Trunks
B1 Four Out Of Five
B2 The World's First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip
B3 Science Fiction
B4 She Looks Like Fun
B6 The Ultracheese
Lacquer Cut At – Alchemy Mastering
Mastered At – Alchemy Mastering
Pressed By – Optimal Media GmbH – BI13749
Phonographic Copyright (p) – Domino Recording Co. Ltd.
Copyright (c) – Domino Recording Co. Ltd.
Design – Matthew Cooper (2)
Engineer – Alex Turner, Anthony Cazade, James Ford, Jimmy Robertson, Jonathan Ratovoarisoa,Loren Humphrey, Michael Harris (10), Nico Quere*
Lacquer Cut By – Matt*
Management – Wildlife Entertainment
Mastered By – Matt*
Mixed By – James Ford
Photography By – Zackery Michael
Photography By [Band Portraits] – Ben Chappell (2)
Producer – Alex Turner, James Ford
180 Gram black vinyl in gatefold jacket with download code.
℗&© 2018 Domino Recording Co. Ltd.
(Pitchfork) "At a studio in an old Parisian mansion, the band dreamed up an alluring retro-futurist backdrop for Turner’s inventions. Harpsichords, vintage keyboards, and space-age synths are cobwebbed together. The music borrows from that mid-’70s moment when the Walker Brothers resembled an avant-garde funeral band, while Turner sings drolly surreal one-liners and play-acts as a vanquished lounge singer. To round off the lunar alienation, he spliced his studio renditions with the raw, eccentric vocal demos he’d been recording at home.
The results of this experiment will divide, delight, bemuse, and bewilder various factions of their sizable fan base, particularly disciples of its bluesy predecessor. No singles teed up Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, and for good reason: Barely anything here invites casual consumption. There is plenty that actively resists it, and that’s probably the point.
Turner, who is 32, has lately immersed himself in a pair of books often cited as shorthand for our modern condition: David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest and Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death. Unlike Father John Misty, another acolyte of this pop-philosophical literature, Turner threads their ideas into quiet storms of insinuation rather than didactic frenzies.
Turner later references Postman’s “information-action ratio,” the idea that our access to endless information has created a harmful international consciousness: In deciding what to care about, we are paralyzed by choice, and so care a little about everything, rather than a lot about what’s important. On “Four Out of Five,” the “Information-Action Ratio” is the name of a rooftop taqueria in Turner’s rapidly gentrifying moon colony. This is one of his pet topics, how consumerism can co-opt a salient critique and use it to sell you new stuff. Whether or not he’d accept the term, he’s descended into a kind of capitalist ennui, borne out in a sharp line crooned on “Batphone”: “I launch my fragrance called Integrity/I sell the fact that I can’t be bought.”
Even Turner’s trademark nostalgia, once fixed on ice-cream vans and “trackie bottoms tucked in socks,” gets a top-down reinvention. On album highlight “Star Treatment,” he glams up like David Bowie descending on a lunar wedding. After recalling a time when he “just wanted to be one of the Strokes,” Turner drifts into a romantic fantasy about an ex and re-emerges in their back seat, a ghost in the rear-view mirror, before taking an elevator down to Earth to resume his “make-believe residency” as a “lounge singer shimmer.” In an age of hyper-communication and rolling-news anxiety, it’s intriguing to hear Turner in this hallucinogenic state, oscillating between abstraction and narrative. His first-person encounters are inscrutable free-association, yet the absurdities ring true. It’s not until you’re lured into his headspace that this dissonant poetry begins to align with our dissonant reality.
That dissonance reappears in Turner’s fixation on worlds-within-worlds, the way one story can collapse into another. It’s a component of his ruptured reality, traceable to any number of preoccupations—fluid truth in the fake-news era, the wonderland of L.A., the distorting effects of celebrity or cocaine. Those same lines between reality and representation are unravelling in his Lunar Surface home-studio analogy, in the songs-within-songs of “Star Treatment,” “Science Fiction,” and “The Ultracheese,” and in the hand-carved model of a hotel-casino on the record’s cover, which Turner likens to the scaled-down replicas that hotels display in their own lobbies. He has the air of a lounge-lizard Borges, a meticulous analyst with the gloriously caddish spirit of Serge Gainsbourg, John Cooper Clarke, and Jarvis Cocker rolled into one."
|Format||LP, 180 Gram|