Alex Turner has never given the impression of losing sleep over what his audience thinks. So it was surprising to hear the shaggy-haired, denim-coutured singer ask: “Are you still with us?” Even if the question hadn’t followed two songs from Arctic Monkeys’ rockier recent album Humbug, it would have been a moot one. At this hometown show, it was hard not to ponder how the crowd looked to a singer whose dress and demeanour indicate that, regardless of how repellent it is to him, he is a New York-based rock star with a supermodel girlfriend — which wouldn’t be worth dwelling on were it not for the fact that the disparity is beginning to show.

By eschewing established crowd-pleasers and opening instead with the more recent Dance Little Liar, Turner did little to obscure that disparity. With not much to latch on to beyond the concluding machinegun fire of Matt Helders’s drumming, the thousand-odd fans at the front lurched from side to side, doused by airborne pints. Whatever you came expecting, there was no denying — especially on the restive red-brick fun of This House Is a Circus — that the quartet’s increasing muscularity as a unit is both welcome and necessary if they are to keep playing venues of this size. Their 2007 hit Brianstorm was a triumph of velocity and heaviness, its lack of chorus no impediment to a crowd who sang along to Turner and Jamie Cook’s surf-rock soloing.

Yet the tension between Arctic Monkeys’ inclinations and their fans’ expectations continued to manifest itself. By playing their maiden chart-topper I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor early, they unburdened themselves of their biggest albatross before its weight detracted from their ensuing songs. Turner’s aloof insouciance can make his more well-established peers look needy by comparison — although that’s not always a good thing. “Who likes a B-side?” he inquired drily, before draining the room of all ambience with Sketchead.

Whether longstanding fans liked it or not, almost all the other highlights came from the current album. Pretty Visitors benefited from an excellent Black Sabbath-like breakdown. No less thrilling was The Jeweller’s Hands; with its wheezing organ supplanting Turner’s indistinct vocal, the song offered a tantalising glimpse of future directions.

It was all a world away from what Turner, still only 23, calls the “juvenilia” of the early songs that he can no longer bring himself to play. Until this show, one of those songs was Mardy Bum. The return home to Sheffield must have had an effect. Come the encore, Turner off-roaded away from Fluorescent Adolescent to knock off a few verses from Mardy Bum. The reaction confirmed that, for now, yes, they’re still with him.

Newcastle Metro Arena, tonight; Wembley Arena, tomorrow and Wednesday

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