Arctic Monkeys live at Finsbury Park review: 'They emerge victorious'

It seems like the true measure of Arctic Monkeys' increasingly cemented status as the UK's biggest and best band lies not in the fact that they could draw in more than 70,000 people to two of the biggest gigs of the year, but in that no-one ever doubted that they could pull it off.

While Glastonbury's triumvirate of headliners (Kasabian, Arcade Fire and Metallica) have all come under various points of fire, The Libertines' imminent Hyde Park reunion continues to provoke more questions than you can wave a gin-soaked Union Jack at and last year's Stone Roses gig in this same leafy spot seemed to pass by with more of a wheeze than a roar, the atmosphere around these two nights feels like one of inevitable triumph. At the peak of their powers, with nary a subpar gig to their name and arguably the strongest and most era-defining back catalogue of any British band this century, Arctic Monkeys could do nothing but emerge victorious. And, obviously, they do.

Supported by a bill that seems to compactly sum up their ethos – newcomers Royal Blood for the dirty rock'n'roll; Miles Kane for the local-boys-come-good relatability factor; Tame Impala for the smart, credible musicality – Arctic Monkeys arrive looking like they've just stepped out of some impossibly glamorous LA casino with the confidence of a band who have nothing left to prove. Clad in a spotted smoking jacket, bequiffed and oozing the nonchalant charisma that seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere around 2011, Alex Turner is an effortless frontman, adept at holding 35,000 people in the palm of his hand while dishing out enough cheeky winks and smirks to ensure it never falls into clichéd stadium rock posturing.

Opening with the prowling stalk of 'Do I Wanna Know?', tonight's AM-heavy set is a note perfect testament to four musicians who've become a taught, impenetrable unit: more than any other band in recent memory, Arctic Monkeys power lies in the chemistry between them as a four-piece rather than merely a superlative frontman. 'Snap Out Of It' and 'Arabella' strut and purr in turn, while 'Brianstorm' is a dizzy gallop of neurotic guitars and relentless drums, a wild-eyed nod to the days before the band became masters of sexually-charged, loose-moralled rock'n'roll.

Indeed, if there's one criticism of tonight, it's that there aren't enough tracks cribbed from these days. For a gig of this magnitude, a career-spanning greatest hits set is generally the order of the day, whereas tonight we, officially at least, get just two tracks from both second LP Favourite Worst Nightmare ('Brianstorm', 'Fluorescent Adolescent') and world-beating debut Whatever People Say I Am… That's What I'm Not ('I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor', 'Dancing Shoes'). It's a small gripe considering the strength of AM – which is played out almost in full, however, and one that's then largely rectified by an 'impromptu' extra.

Taking to the stage at the start of the encore and declaring that he "feels like playing an old song by myself on the acoustic", Turner's subsequent sing-a-long serenade of rarely-outed favourite 'A Certain Romance' is the kind of magic touch that elevates the gig into the realms of something truly special. It's a gesture that notes where they came from and embraces the dizzying heights they're stood at the helm of now, and though those two places couldn't be more disparate, you realise they've basically never put a foot wrong the entire way.

That tonight's gig was practically flawless is a given, what's really exciting is that this isn't even the half of the peaks you know they'll be reaching for next.