Arctic Monkeys - Seattle, WA

Taking the stage to Nate Dogg and Warren G's "Regulate," the Sheffield quartet Arctic Monkeys both expunged the recent memory of enthusiastic yet anemic openers Speaker Speaker and declared their intentions for the night's show, the last of their American tour. They were here to make some people dance. Since it was an all-ages show, it wasn't that hard, although (as usual) I was the only one shaking booty in my area, which appeared to be populated mostly by haughty businessmen. (Why were they even there? Most of the girls there were fifteen; they already had their moms giving them a ride home!)

Despite all the amputations, the Monkeys put on an insane show. They were clearly comfortable with each other and with performing. They didn't engage in too much banter, except with the obligatory dude who kept shouting out the unintelligible name of a place that was meant to resonate with the band somehow. But their good nature and delight in playing came across. The backing vocals on "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" killed me, and the band almost broke into giggles during the "ba-da-da" break on "When the Sun Goes Down."

For a band whose introduction to American audience came courtesy of one song on the radio, the audience was attentive (if motionless) for the whole set, calling out for several songs from the band's debut, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. The kids related to the Arctic Monkeys' songs about the hazards of nightlife, which, as we all know, are universal. Angular post-punk guitar was all over the set; the most straightforward song, non-album track "Leave Before the Lights Go On," was the most boring, with its throwback C86 hook. They quickly made up for it with "Mardy Bum," one of the most mature relationship songs I've heard in the past five years. Singer Alex Turner's voice was rueful as he recalled good times with his girlfriend before busting out with an unlikely singalong chorus: "You're argumentative/And you've got the face on." I was totally humming that on the way home, too.

"Fake Tales of San Francisco," the radio hit, got some people moving, but hearing the audience completely take over for Turner during the song's bridge - "proof that love's not only BLIND but DEAF!" - made me happy, and not just because I'm bitter about my ex-boyfriend and his crappy taste in music, either. Punk-funk bands have been a dime a dozen recently, but the Arctic Monkeys are well on the way to making this show last and last.