Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not’ at 20 – every track ranked

The fact that Arctic Monkeys‘ seminal, game-changing debut album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not turns 20 today is nothing short of bittersweet. On one hand, it’s the perfect opportunity to celebrate two decades of a generational band responsible for soundtracking our youth, our formative moments and properly kickstarting the start of a glorious indie revolution in noughties Britain.

The other, we reluctantly admit, is that it’s got readers of a certain vintage feeling really fucking old. Listen to this album and you’ll instantly feel like you’re back in a time when necking warm cans of lager with your mates and planning a summer of beautiful chaos felt like the order of the day. 20 years later, the reality is that you’re probably reading this while dealing with the endless torrent of to-do lists, bills and all that lovely stuff that apparently constitutes adulthood. Joyous!

For now though, here’s our definitive ranking of every track, best to worst. Agree with us? Disagree with us? Disagree with us so vehemently that you wish to fight us? All feedback and opinions are welcome. Let us know and enjoy!

13. ‘Riot Van’

If evidence was ever needed that the middle of the album is a good place to hide the filler, then ‘Riot Van’ is it. The middling 2:14 minutes of so-so downstrokes, tickled cymbals, and a lyrically on-the-nose account of teenage trouble making, does little to move, rouse or offer respite at the mid-point of a 13-track album that, quite frankly, the lads could have left off and we’d have been none the wiser. SP.

12. ‘Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured’

Not one of the biggest songs on the album, by any chalk, but certainly one of the funkiest. Original bassist Andy Nicholson gets the chance to put a proper stamp on the record, while the lyrics tell of the untold chaos and unpredictability during a night out with your mates in your home town. The nostalgia pang is strong with this one. NR.

11. ‘Perhaps Vampires Is a Bit Strong But…’

It’s testament to the precocious talent of then-teenaged Alex Turner that he was able to create a song that eviscerated the same money-bags industry types who were so desperate to sign the band in the first place. “All you people are vampires and your stories are stale,” he offers over spiky alt-rock guitars. The boldest of two fingers. NR.

10. ‘You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights but You Were Staring Straight at Me’

Vocals from Matt Helders! An entire generation getting introduced to Frank Spencer! ‘You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights but You Were Staring Straight at Me’ is a mid-album shot in the arm that sees the Monkeys at their most ferocious but also playful. It’s all over in just north of two minutes, but packs in some of the album’s best melodies, and a quintessential example of the kind of turn of phrase that made Turner – standing awkwardly in a disgusting nightclub after failing to woo a girl – the beloved lyricist he is today: “If it weren’t this dark you’d see how red my face has gone, yeah.” WR.

9. ‘Dancing Shoes’

Despite its disco beats, driving bass, and a big, janky guitar solo played with the same level of faux-confidence as the lager-fuelled lads hoping to catch the eye of a prospect at the club, Dancing Shoes doesn’t quite possess the same festival presence as some of our higher rankings. It’s not absolute shit, shock or horror, though, as it did gift us the absolute gem of a line – “You sexy little swine” – which could easily rank Turner amongst some of our country’s finest romanticists. SP.

8. ‘Still Take You Home’

“Well, it’s ever so funny ‘Cause I don’t think you’re special, I don’t think you’re cool,” comes Alex Turner’s opening gambit on one of this record’s most brilliantly chaotic songs. Between the battling guitars and the general air of chaos within it, here’s a song that still remains special and indeed cool. NR.

7. ‘The View From the Afternoon’

To an entire generation of music fans, the rumble of guitars, drums and bass that opens ‘The View from the Afternoon’, and the whole album, is an instantly recognisable time portal. Setting the tone for the whole record, the duelling guitars of Turner and Jamie Cook that battle at increasing speed in its frantic verse were replicated poorly by countless pairs of best friends in bedrooms and garages, trying to become like their new heroes. As an introduction to Arctic Monkeys and their debut album, the opening track is everything they do best. WR.

6. ‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’

‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ is a tough act to follow on the track listing, but Fake Tales of San Francisco is far from ‘fucking wank’, as Turner offers on this song. Originally released on the band’s first ever EP, the song narrates their early beginnings in the Sheffield scene as they cut their teeth alongside pretentious peers with big fish/small pond syndrome. Turner’s dry observations and cutting wit presents a compelling story, whilst the sleazy bass and drum-driven swagger, tightly wound guitars, and bloke-y gang chants, are a solid example of the Monkeys at their wiry and ramshackle best. SP.

5. ‘Mardy Bum’

In the time since Whatever People Say, Turner has written countless ballads and countless love songs. On an album more concerned with sordid flings and one-night wonders, ‘Mardy Bum’ shone a light into his future. Gorgeously written and hopelessly romantic, it showed a different side to the singer and one that he would grow into across the following two decades. Beloved by fans, it also gave the Monkeys one of their greatest live moments ever when they resurrected the song to be performed with a string section at Glastonbury 2013. Just perfect. WR.

4. ‘From the Ritz to the Rubble’

As well as their swaggering energy and youthful enthusiasm, what drew people to Arctic Monkeys most when they emerged was Turner’s incisive, detail-filled lyrics. It’s done best on ‘From the Ritz to the Rubble’, a late album highlight that takes you right into the heart of a Sheffield skirmish on a night out. Lyrically brilliant but equally written in the tone you’d chat to your mates in (“Behind they go through to the bit where you pay”), it’s anthemic but delightfully ordinary. Backed up by a brilliantly instrumental break and cacophonous finale, it’s the album’s underrated gem. WR.

3. ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’

The song that started it all. I first discovered the Monkeys when my older sister wisely elected to show me the YouTube video of four friends from Sheffield creating an almighty racket in a rehearsal space, with Alex Turner’s droll cry of “don’t believe the ‘iyyyype” kicking things off. That song was ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’ and there’s every chance you may have discovered them in the same way. It was one of the first times that the internet was really harnessed for the emergence of a brilliant new band, helped in no small part that they had a killer anthem up their sleeves. 20 years later, we’re still dancing to “electro-pop like a robot from 1984”. NR.

2. ‘When the Sun Goes Down’

Greek mythology reliably states that Helen of Troy had the face that launched a thousand ships. In ‘When the Sun Goes Down’, Arctic Monkeys have the song that launched a thousand pints. That’s only too evident when the beloved DO-DO-DO-DO guitar line kicks in and pandemonium ensues, whether that’s at a gig (though they haven’t played it since 2014) or the sticky floor of the indie club night where it soundtracked your formative years. It’s also a song where Turner’s knack for lyrics packed with vivid kitchen sink realism is allowed to shine. It’s testament to his brilliance that a song about the beleaguered existence of a sex worker (“It’s all not quuuiite legitimate”) has become one of their most enduring anthems. NR.

1. ‘A Certain Romance’

The best song on this album and, hands down, the best song ever created by those Monkeys from High Green, Sheffield. This is the band at their very peak, from the moment that Matt Helders’ rumbling drum rolls kick off proceedings and introduce a song that valiantly revels in the epic and the ordinary. The epic of course, can be heard in a twinkling guitar line so distinctive that crowds have taken to belting back the instrumental back at the band. The ordinary comes in Alex Turner’s quietly beautiful celebration of an all-too familiar place where you’d encounter “kids who like to scrap with pool cues in their hands,” but one that’s full of life in its own way too. The song has rightly endured as one of the most powerful takedowns of the chav demonisation that was all too present in noughties British culture. “Over there, there’s friends of mine. What can I say? I’ve known ’em for a long long time,” Turner offers as an all-embracing closing salvo. It’s the ultimate display from a band that, we too, have now known for a long, long time. NR