The “Nightmare” the Arctic Monkeys are suffering from is the curse of their own success. “Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not” shook everyone awake to a new wave of British music. The band made itself a name for its punk-infused rock with clever one-liners about prostitutes and what it’s like to be disillusioned and young. You can also blame them for the wave of imitator bands and music moguls trying to find the next Arctic Monkeys. So between their initial release and their follow-up, there have been two years and an entire world of music that is trying to be like them. So when “Favourite Worst Nightmare” first hits you, you think you’ve heard this before.

As a sophomore album, it’s not a terrible letdown. The band doesn’t really progress much here; the songs aren’t as fresh and they aren’t as surprising this time around. “Brianstorm” gets things started right with a toe-tapping portrait of another weird character the band has encountered. Like anything the Monkeys write, you’re not sure if you want to meet the “scummy man” or the “innovator” or any of the other strange persons they encounter in the back alleys and under piss-colored street lamps. They’re great ambassadors to this world, providing a mirthful and poignant analysis of their surroundings.

Taking on a broader scope in their subject matter, this album is noticeably darker, with “Fluorescent Adolescent” providing the first bouncy and seemingly light song of the gritty list. They didn’t exactly sing about lollipops before, but expect more in the vein of hookers and the like with “D is for Dangerous,” “Balaclava” and “If You Were There, Beware.” That said, there’s nothing that will be seemingly get stuck in your head for days the way “When the Sun Goes Down” can. And aside for some rare moments, there is nothing as poppy as “I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor.”

Sadly, this album actually exposes the band’s inexperience and their greatest failing thus far: their song composition. On their faster songs, the guitar work and melodies become formulaic — as a punk fan that’s a critique that’s hard for me to even type. There are softer moments here as well, but their forte has always been for quick lyrical sleight of hand that makes them both tricksters and poets. A solid release, but they’re tepid in their explorations and something — perhaps originality — is lacking.