“We heard him coming down the corridor shouting ‘Monkeys! Monkeys!’” Turner recalls with a smile. They’d first met the tall, redheaded rocker backstage at a Belgium rock festival. It made us feel like, Oh, we can do whatever we want.” You’re doing it.’ As simple as that sounds, it makes sense.
Helders says, “It was Josh who said, ‘Whatever you do in this room, it’s still you. Getting weird was something to be embraced, not avoided.
Rolling out into the high desert to make that album with the Queens of the Stone Age leader opened their eyes to the freedom available to them as artists. The band experienced a career-altering revelation while working with Homme as co-producer on 2009’s Humbug, which in hindsight looms even larger in their story. The musical lessons kept coming, even as the Monkeys grew into a leading force in a new wave of British rock and pop music, with their every move documented and scrutinized. We’re not quite there yet, but maybe it is enough to know what skill level we’d like to be at.” “There’s just so much feeling when you listen to music like that,” he adds, noting their current use of Stan Kenton as intro music. They now record music with no concerns about recreating the same sounds onstage, allowing their creative impulses to drive the recordings. In 2022, as much as the sound has changed over time, Turner insists the core quartet is still “following our instincts, which is precisely what we were doing in the summer of 2002.” They were kids then, and songs were composed in that early stage around their abilities in the rehearsal space, designed to be played live in a small club. You’re actually a singer now,” Helders says later on the phone, laughing. He’s leaned into that a lot more vocally. “It was less shouty and fast and more like Walker Brothers singing. Helders began to notice a change in the vocals when Turner started working with his other project the Last Shadow Puppets, which then carried over into the Monkeys. Historically, you might compare Turner and the Monkeys’ evolution to Bowie’s mid-’70s leap from edgy rocker Ziggy Stardust to the deeply emotional crooner of Station to Station and Heroes, and still always sounding like no one but himself. (Which meant being recruited in 2015-16 for Iggy Pop’s Post Pop Depression.) While Turner still likes to squeeze in some quality time in the city, he now mostly bounces between London and Paris, usually accompanied by the French singer-songwriter Louise Verneuil. for a time, but now only drummer Matt Helders remains, and between Monkeys projects is a member in good standing of Joshua Homme’s rotating crew of players and accomplices. Actually just been too busy making it all about me,” Turner says with a knowing laugh. On the wall behind him is a collection of ancient class photographs, of strapping young men in school, on sports teams, all forgotten memories from the last century. In town to talk up the album, the bar is a convenient meeting place. Seeing his words in print since he was barely 20 no doubt brought him to this careful state, but he also looks pleased when you recognize one or another inspirational touchstone (Mick Ronson, Brian Wilson, etc.) in the new songs.
With a lock of hair dangling stylishly over his forehead, he is wearing an embroidered Guatemalan shirt over a faded block top.Īs a host, Turner is perfectly relaxed and cordial, but chooses his words carefully during our interview, finding the messages he wants to convey slowly. Two weeks later at a mostly deserted boutique hotel on Hollywood Blvd., Turner is sitting at a table with a nearly empty bottle of sparkling water and a small paper coffee cup. When he does speak, the words are as opaque as his lyrics, ending one song with a teasing: “Yes, you like that? I understand loud and clear. With a disco ball at his feet, Turner doesn’t say much between songs, but never comes off as distant, either leaning into the mic or strumming his guitar. The biggest international hits would come later in the set, but early on they share a song from the band’s new album, The Car, a shimmery funk tune called “I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am.” The song is ready for the dancefloor or your nearest smoke-filled room, as Turner’s voice goes higher, if not quite falsetto, singing soulfully of a dystopian future (or dystopian present): “Freaky keypad by the retina scan…”
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