Milburn are crudely going to carry the label of the next Arctic Monkeys whether anybody cares to realise they got going before the Arctics did. Hailing from bleak, industrial Sheffield (apologies, Sheffield dwellers, the stereotype is just too strong to resist), Milburn deal in self-introspection,
looking witheringly at working-class life, shot through with a biting wit and laddish sense of humour.
Which is all well and good, but Milburn are like the Arctics without the wit and humour (i.e. the good bits). That the Arctics broke so spectcularly before Milburn may forever consign anything remotely similar as droll, lacking the nous of Alex Turner, and in this case, increasingly banal clichés such as "closing time," having "one too many," and "late night taxis."
However plucky and earnest they may seem - and one could go as far to say they had the blueprint down before the Arctics - Milburn
are turning out generic kitchen-sink rock that won't please anybody, though it may work as a stop gap for those who can't wait for the next Arctics' album.