When I was 15, Arctic Monkeys’ album Favourite Worst Nightmare entered my world, and with it, the haunting melody of 505. After a year immersed in the indie rock anthems of their debut album, the sophomore release was highly anticipated. Tracks like Brianstorm and D is for Dangerous delivered the raw energy expected from Arctic Monkeys, yet it was the album’s closer, 505, that truly captured my attention and has held it ever since.
Alex Turner’s vocals, usually laced with wry observation, in 505 sounded genuinely vulnerable, tinged with heartache. His distinctive Northern accent conveyed a sense of deep emotional impact stemming from what seemed like an intense romantic entanglement. The lyric, “I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck,” struck me with particular force. At 15, it painted a picture of devotion I couldn’t yet comprehend experiencing myself.
Turner himself has explained that Room 505 is a metaphor, representing the desire to return to a loved one, regardless of distance, be it “a 7-hour flight or a 45-minute drive.” Room 505, an anonymous hotel space, becomes symbolic of reunion and intimacy amidst the backdrop of Turner’s burgeoning career with Arctic Monkeys. Separated by tours and travel, the distance was minimized by the pull of connection, making “the middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start.”
Like many teenagers, I projected the intense emotions of love songs onto my own future relationships. Navigating a series of fleeting, adolescent romances throughout high school, 505 remained a strangely hopeful song, not for the potential heartbreak, but for the sheer intensity of affection it depicted. The line “a knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark” resonated with a yearning for that level of profound connection.
Around this time, I became close friends with Chris. He was quiet initially, but possessed a sharp wit and, crucially, excellent taste in music. When Arctic Monkeys released Humbug in 2009, our conversations revolved around dissecting our favorite tracks from the new album. He gravitated towards Pretty Visitors* for its provocative lyric, “what came first the chicken or the dick’ed?”, which became a running joke between us.
Sometime during our three-year friendship, my feelings for Chris deepened into love, and to my surprise, at 18, the feeling was reciprocated. It was a particularly hot day in June when the lyrics of 505 began to resonate on a deeply personal level. He lived in Birmingham, and I in Shropshire. Though geographically close, the emotional distance felt vast when we were apart.
We were sharing ice pops in his room when he turned to me and remarked that 505 reminded him of our relationship. My 15-year-old self would have been ecstatic. In that moment, I felt I understood the emotions Alex Turner channeled when writing the song. I listened to 505 on the train journey home and continued to play it almost nightly for months.
The relationship, and subsequently, the friendship with Chris ended. During a month of backpacking through Europe, 505 was a constant companion. Turner’s sense of loss began to mirror my own. Our brief experience with “love” highlighted the lyric “it seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye,” making me realize I had romanticized a relationship dynamic I didn’t truly desire. The phrase “the grass is always greener” came to mind.
Out of respect for Chris, the details of our separation remain private. The relationship’s end was due to circumstances beyond our control, and I eventually stopped blaming myself. Five years on, despite no contact, Chris still comes to mind whenever 505 plays. The initial obsessive need to analyze what went wrong has faded, along with the vivid memories of our relationship. Now, the song carries a different meaning entirely.
I got “505” tattooed on my arm, not as a reminder of him, but as a testament to how this song has been a consistent source of solace and joy over the past years. I still appreciate the song’s dramatic breakdown at 2:03, and belt out “I crumble completely when you cry,” but now without the automatic association with past heartbreak.
Perhaps without experiencing heartbreak, 505 wouldn’t hold such profound meaning. Who hasn’t felt the sting of a first love lost? At 23, I anticipate more relationship experiences, both positive and negative, to come. In a way, I appreciate the time with Chris for allowing me to connect our shared moments, both within and outside the relationship, to this perfectly crafted 4:13 minute song. Because despite all the complexities and eventual parting, “I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck.”
*Name has been changed
Featured Image copyright of Daisy Forrester
