Throwing Caution to the Colorful | Alex Turner

the amazing blokes from up north

october, 2005 (london)

"So who are these guys, again?"

Camille and I were crammed up against the balcony railing. It was uncomfortable, and I had way too much of my skin pressed up against the sweaty stranger on the other side of me, but looking around the packed venue, we had probably gotten a better deal than most. The air was already hot and sticky, and Camille had to shout to be heard above the noise of the crowd.

"They're some blokes from up North, I think. Someone posted their music on MySpace and I got hooked right away. They're fucking amazing."

She hadn't stopped smiling since we had left the apartment, and even though I had purely come out of support for her and not for the music itself, her unbridled enthusiasm for this band was infectious.

"Like, they're just all-around solid, you know? Some bands just have really good drums or a really good bass player or good vocals, but they've really got it all - and fuck, their frontman, Alex, is practically a god."

"Wait, did you say his name was Alex?" Art Gallery Alex suddenly popped into my head. I couldn't help it - I knew it was probably impossible that I'd ever run into him again, but-

I stopped myself. There were probably a thousand guys in the area named Alex, and I was pretty sure that Art Gallery Alex would've mentioned if he was in a band popular enough to sell out the fucking Astoria.

Wishful thinking.

Besides, what kind of band name was the Arctic Monkeys?

Camille's voice brought me back to the present. "Who knows," she nudged me with her elbow. "You might even like them."

I laughed. "I doubt it, but thanks."

Suddenly, finally, the lights dimmed, and the noise of the crowd grew louder in cheers and whistles. The frantic energy swept through the audience like a wave, catching me along with it, and my stomach flipped over in anticipation.

The only thing lit up was the bass drum with the band's logo, and a solitary spotlight swept over the stage as an announcer began speaking and the cheers of the crowd grew louder and louder.

Purple lights lit up the stage and the intro track boomed. 

Dr. Dre.

Huh.

Maybe this band wasn't total shit.

The music was quickly drowned out by the screaming of the audience as four guys walked onstage.

The crowd went wild, a sea of hands and swinging shirts (people were taking off their clothes already?) and deafening noise.

Next to me, Camille was screaming her heart out, hands cupped around her mouth, leaning over the railing so far that I was afraid she'd fall over and be swallowed up by the mob on the ground floor.

My eyes subconsciously swept the stage, trying to figure out which of the four could be Alex.

A flash of red caught my eye and I spotted the lanky guy in the center taking off his grey hoodie. He turned around to pick up his guitar and I noticed something peculiar about his t-shirt.

The familiar logo read, "The Little Flames."

He was wearing the same shirt as Art Gallery Alex.

My body fell frozen for a moment, but I managed to smack some sense into myself. It was a coincidence. The Little Flames probably had loads of fans with that exact t-shirt. Anyways, even if he was Art Gallery Alex, it wasn't like I could just go up and talk to him. He-

What was I doing? I needed to get my priorities straight. I was here for Camille. I tried to push thoughts of Alex out of my head.

And then they started to play.

I had expected the balcony to be a bit more tame than the masses below, but everyone in the entire building seemed to have let all of their energy out in a semi-coordinated barrage of pushing elbows and hoarse voices, so much that the floor itself seemed to pulse with the beat.

The energy of the crowd seemed like something physical, tangible, settling within me until I couldn't help but feel the beat vibrating through my entire body.

Camille was in ecstasy, screaming along to every single word and headbanging so that her black curls went flying everywhere, and every now and then, she'd look over at me with a look of pure happiness on her face.

She grabbed my shoulder and leaned into my ear. "Let yourself go!" She shouted. "Just enjoy the music!"

I don't think I could have resisted even if I wanted to. It was easier to just let the crowd behind me sweep me up in the rhythm and madness. It was sort of freeing.

And they weren't half bad.

They had energy, but they also actually knew how to play their instruments, they seemed pretty well-coordinated, and fuck was their drummer good.

I couldn't take my eyes off of Band Alex.

I wanted to focus on anything but him, but he reminded me so much of Art Gallery Alex - his slightly frantic energy, his facial expressions, the way he walked around the stage and bobbed his head to the beat.

He played his guitar like it was just an extension of his arm, he sang every word with a full punch of emotion - he was enthralling.

In between songs, he stopped to take a drink of water, deafening cheers still ringing throughout the room.

He strummed a few chords on his guitar.

And then he spoke.

I couldn't even comprehend what he was saying, what words he was even speaking, but I recognized his voice instantly, immediately, like the five months since I'd last seen him had been five seconds.

This was Art Gallery Alex.

There was no denying it.

His voice, his face, his smile, his shirt...

His band.

His incredibly popular band.

His stupidly good, ridiculously talented, incredibly popular band that sold out entire arenas.

That had probably wiped all thoughts of boring art galleries and midnight cafe conversations from his mind.

I was in a daze for the rest of the concert. Once it ended, Camille and I spilled out into the cool night air along with the rest of the crowd, my mind still stuck on Alex. 

"Earth to Jude," Camille slung an arm around my shoulder. "Are you with me?"

I couldn't tell her, could I? She'd never believe me.

Best to pretend that I'd never met him at all.

"Hey." Camille snapped her fingers in front of my face. "You've been completely entranced since the concert ended. You okay?"

I blinked. "Yeah. Um. I just can't stop thinking about - "

"How amazing they are? I know, right?"

"Yeah. Definitely." I tried to fake a smile.

Camille leaned her head on my shoulder. 

"I told you you'd love them."