When the Arctic Monkeys released Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino it earned an atom-splitting fan reception. Reimagining Alex Turner as a cravat-friendly lounge lizard, it seemed to delight in the outrageous liberties taken with the band’s own heritage. Despite the shockwaves caused however, it was (whisper it quietly) their most creative album yet and (whisper it even more quietly) their best since 2007’s Favourite Worst Nightmare.
No such ‘Are they trolling?’ problems exist for The 1975, the ashen polyglots who have, to all intents and purposes, taken over as the UK’s most feted musical export. This seemed far from likely in 2013 when their eponymous debut harvested maturing Directioners without needing to take many risks. The quartet has not so much reinvented themselves since as wisely tracked close to their maturing fanbase: 2018’s A Brief Enquiry Into Online Relationships – an hour long bricolage of styles and mind snippets – saw them pointed directly at Generation Playlist, the first to grow up with music as an ever changing pool of mood swings. Of this audience with which they’d synced so perfectly, singer Matt Healy once said: ‘It’s musically all over the place – and particularly mentally unwell.’
This default to empathy also frames Notes On A Conditional Form: climate change activist Greta Thunberg takes over the chameleonic opener The 1975, delivering a glum, boomer-baiting monologue that articulates the last chance saloon the planet finds itself in, while People is a rallying call of Healy’s own, an individuals-are-smart-but-society-is-dumb polemic delivered over a rasping, post-grunge noise which is as harsh as it is breathless.
People made it to first single at the expense of The Birthday Party, a mid-tempo rock song which wouldn’t sound out of place on an Elbow album. Notes… though is as much a smorgasbord of ideas, sequences, energy and thought matter as its predecessor, cycling effortlessly through the spacious, James Blake-esque beats of Yeah I Know, the frosty cinematic ambience on The End (Music For Cars) and the imperious contemporary pop in I Think There’s Something You Should Know, Frail State Of Mind and If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know).
In his position it would’ve been easy to just grab a megaphone, but Healy has learned to treat the group’s fans as a circle, providing an antidote to the condescension they often experience. Giving solace on Don’t Worry, he then shreds his own curated persona during Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied, dropping the veil and confessing, ‘Life feels like a lie/I need something to be true’. It’s the duet with Phoebe Bridgers, Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America, when sentiment twins most affectingly with the unspoken and buried on though, the words exploring modern sexuality and its constricting norms which both handle with a cherished humility.
Notes On A Conditional Form is a highly thought provoking, impactful record, not just because of the candour of its personality, or that it shows how one of the world’s biggest acts continue to pursue a unique take on the responsibilities of stardom. The truth is simple: on it you can hear The 1975 redefining what it is to be a rock band in the 21st century, going where they want, making their imperfections count. It would be a radical departure if the concept wasn’t already now theirs to own and explore as they see fit.
Sometimes, like Alex Turner, successful artists just want to shed a skin. Others however want to go naked, mindful of nobody’s judgement. Right now, Matt Healy and his friends are not afraid of looking everyone in the eye.
