Call it their Eras Tour. Arctic Monkeys have been around for two decades now, and their catalogue is deep enough that their fan base spans generations. For their latest Toronto show, Budweiser Stage was absolutely packed with a mix of elder millennials who have been with them since the early days, mid-20s Tumblr alumni in leather jackets and Docs, and TikTok teens intent on turning the concert into content.
All those eras were accounted for — some a little more thoroughly than others — across the band's 90-minute set, as the Monkeys dutifully played the hits while also fully embodying the crushed-velvet opulence of their recent work.
Arriving on a stage decorated like the set of a '70s variety show — an impression emphasized by the retro IG-filtered videos playing on the circular screen behind them, and the presence of some vintage-looking cameras filming on stage — the group wasted no time in digging into the "Most Played" section of their Spotify, opening with the swaggering blooze-funk of "Do I Wanna Know?" as Alex Turner riffed on his teardrop 12-string. Proving the full range of their sound, they then tore into the breakneck "Brianstorm," proving they haven't lost any of the speed and ferocity of their youth.
Turner, with a quaff that made him look very much like Bono moonlighting in a Vegas casino, hammed it up in bellbottoms and platform shoes. He's a completely different performer from the man who stood statue-still during the band's first couple of tours, but he's also toned down the bravado on his sleazeball greaser era circa 2013's AM. Okay, maybe he's only slightly toned it down, since the erotic fretboard slides of "Knee Socks" looked very much like he was jerking off his guitar, its neck angled suggestively out from his waist. He seemed to get a kick out of keeping his stage banter as vapid as possible, frequently namedropping Toronto for a cheap pop — a persona that nicely complemented the lounge-singer swagger of the band's latest work.
The four-piece brought along three backing musicians, on keyboards and auxiliary percussion, to flesh out the lavish arrangements of 2022's The Car. They also took this opportunity to update a couple of back catalogue highlights, with Turner setting his guitar aside to go full crooner mode on slowed versions of "Cornerstone" and "Suck It and See," his signature Sheffield snarl having matured into a luxurious croon with a wide vibrato.
The energy almost never lagged, and even though cuts from The Car weren't quite as rapturously received as older ones, a late-set version of "There'd Better Be a Mirrorball" brought the night to a new peak when the giant disco ball (that had been hanging in the rafters like Chekhov's mirrorball) was finally deployed.
With the sparkly disco ball lighting up Bud Stage, it was a magical moment for the Monkeys to unleash the majestic "505," which the person in front of me dutifully filmed in selfie mode. It's certainly not the song I would have guessed would become a long-tail hit for the band, but experiencing the power of that moment when Turner's voice leaps up an octave, the arena-sized catharsis was undeniable.
It was a moment the band couldn't quite live up to in their encore, as they closed with a bombastic guitar jam at the end of "Body Paint." It was as if they were attempting to bludgeon an emotional payoff using sheer force, after having achieved it so effortlessly just a few minutes before with "505."
Who knows — maybe, a couple decades from now, the next generation will turn "Body Paint" into a hit on whatever dystopian social media app they have in the future. Certainly, Arctic Monkeys proved that all of their eras are worth celebrating, as they remain one of the most enduring and versatile rock bands still operating at the peak of their powers.
All those eras were accounted for — some a little more thoroughly than others — across the band's 90-minute set, as the Monkeys dutifully played the hits while also fully embodying the crushed-velvet opulence of their recent work.
Arriving on a stage decorated like the set of a '70s variety show — an impression emphasized by the retro IG-filtered videos playing on the circular screen behind them, and the presence of some vintage-looking cameras filming on stage — the group wasted no time in digging into the "Most Played" section of their Spotify, opening with the swaggering blooze-funk of "Do I Wanna Know?" as Alex Turner riffed on his teardrop 12-string. Proving the full range of their sound, they then tore into the breakneck "Brianstorm," proving they haven't lost any of the speed and ferocity of their youth.
Turner, with a quaff that made him look very much like Bono moonlighting in a Vegas casino, hammed it up in bellbottoms and platform shoes. He's a completely different performer from the man who stood statue-still during the band's first couple of tours, but he's also toned down the bravado on his sleazeball greaser era circa 2013's AM. Okay, maybe he's only slightly toned it down, since the erotic fretboard slides of "Knee Socks" looked very much like he was jerking off his guitar, its neck angled suggestively out from his waist. He seemed to get a kick out of keeping his stage banter as vapid as possible, frequently namedropping Toronto for a cheap pop — a persona that nicely complemented the lounge-singer swagger of the band's latest work.
The four-piece brought along three backing musicians, on keyboards and auxiliary percussion, to flesh out the lavish arrangements of 2022's The Car. They also took this opportunity to update a couple of back catalogue highlights, with Turner setting his guitar aside to go full crooner mode on slowed versions of "Cornerstone" and "Suck It and See," his signature Sheffield snarl having matured into a luxurious croon with a wide vibrato.
The energy almost never lagged, and even though cuts from The Car weren't quite as rapturously received as older ones, a late-set version of "There'd Better Be a Mirrorball" brought the night to a new peak when the giant disco ball (that had been hanging in the rafters like Chekhov's mirrorball) was finally deployed.
With the sparkly disco ball lighting up Bud Stage, it was a magical moment for the Monkeys to unleash the majestic "505," which the person in front of me dutifully filmed in selfie mode. It's certainly not the song I would have guessed would become a long-tail hit for the band, but experiencing the power of that moment when Turner's voice leaps up an octave, the arena-sized catharsis was undeniable.
It was a moment the band couldn't quite live up to in their encore, as they closed with a bombastic guitar jam at the end of "Body Paint." It was as if they were attempting to bludgeon an emotional payoff using sheer force, after having achieved it so effortlessly just a few minutes before with "505."
Who knows — maybe, a couple decades from now, the next generation will turn "Body Paint" into a hit on whatever dystopian social media app they have in the future. Certainly, Arctic Monkeys proved that all of their eras are worth celebrating, as they remain one of the most enduring and versatile rock bands still operating at the peak of their powers.
