“That rock 'n'roll, eh? That rock'n'roll, it just won't go away. It might hibernate from time to time, and sink back into the swamp. I think the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands it adheres to some of its rules.

 

But it's always waiting there, just around the corner. Ready to make its way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. Yeah, that rock'n'roll, it seems like it's faded away sometimes, but it will never die. And there's nothing you can do about it.”

 

Alex Turner’s speech at this year’s Brit Awards has been played and replayed many times. Listen again and it’s possible to hear the distinct sounds of a turning tide and the beginnings of a backlash against a band who, up until that moment, were riding the quest of a wave with latest album AM.

 

Turner’s words in acceptance of the Best Album award have divided opinion. Some have called it brilliant whilst others have been far more critical. Lias Saoudi of The Fat White Family labelled him a ‘moron’ and a ‘buffoon’ and Gus Unger-Hamilton of Alt J called it ‘rambling’ and ‘self-indulgent’. Many responses on a similar theme were posted on Twitter and the general question seems to be, ‘whatever happened to that down to earth indie kid from Sheffield?’. There is a very simple answer to that. He became a rock star.

 

The Arctic Monkeys debut remains one of my favourite records. It was so of its time and lyrically brilliant that anyone who was drinking Tropical Reef, fighting in taxi queues or trying to dance like a robot can immediately relate to it. And there’s not a bad song on it.

 

From there however, I felt that the band continuously struggled to decide who they wanted to be and what they wanted to achieve. You don’t want to change too much and alienate your fans but at the same time, you can’t write about getting drunk in a bus stop in Sheffield whilst drinking Tequila in the desert outside Los Angeles; it just wouldn’t ring true.

 

It’s a difficult balance and I don’t think they ever got it quite right through albums two to four. The release of AM was different however. Here was a confident record that had the right mix of West coast influence and original Arctic swagger. It felt like the culmination of everything they had been working toward and put them right back at the peak of British rock and roll.

 

The reason that artists collaborate, learn and even borrow from their peers and hero’s is the desire to keep learning and developing. It works well when they are able to retain what it is that made them unique in the first place. For the Arctic Monkey’s that was never just about being a bunch of scruffy indie kids from Yorkshire, it was always about catchy, infectious riffs and well-constructed lyrical imagery (something that speech had in abundance).

 

When Alex Turner spent that time at Rancho de la Luna with Josh Homme, riding motorbikes across the desert, bonding and developing his skills on 2009’s Humbug did you really think he’d come back as the same fresh faced kid who left? Really? Did you want him to? Honestly?

 

A similar backlash was evident when Black Sabbath played the Manchester Arena last December. The review of the O2 show the previous night couldn’t praise each musician enough (rightly so as it turned out, Tony Iommi’s fret work in particular was marvellous) but completely and unashamedly tore Ozzy to pieces. The reviewer picked up on the fact that Ozzy can’t hit those high notes anymore and made comment on him ‘scurrying around the stage like a frightened mouse’. Again, these observations were certainly based in truth but the reason that Ozzy hasn’t got the pipes and shuffles around like a geriatric is because he’s spent the last 40 years living a lifestyle we will only ever dream of. That of being a rock star.

 

Surely acts like this should be celebrated as pioneers and survivors, not mocked for being shadows of what they once were. You just can’t go and see Sabbath in 2014 and expect them to be at their prime. You have to accept that the excesses that were part of the reason we love them, will have taken their toll.

 

Likewise with Alex Turner, you simply can’t expect someone who regularly plays to stadiums full of fans to remain that same down to earth lad from Sheffield. We’ve put him on that pedestal; we can’t then knock him for embracing it.

 

The reason we idolise these people, buy their records, follow them on Twitter and vote for them to win awards is that they aren’t like us; they’re something we aspire to but will never achieve.

 

So when the time came for the Arctic Monkeys to accept their award there was never going to be a simple humble thank you or any hint of boyband buffoonery. There was a simply a rock and roll star, reminding us exactly why he was there.