I duly did, and found the flavour of their fourth album much more to my liking than the Humbug, still tasting of lint from producer Josh Homme's back pocket, they'd offered earlier. New album AM is pretty much six of the one, half a dozen of the other: it sets itself up as a no-nonsense heavy rock beast, complete with simplistic riffs cast from the Black Sabbath mould, only to abandon that blueprint at the halfway point.
Two recurring musical motifs are worth noting from the start: Do I Wanna Know? is founded on a glam-rock thump that will resurface several times, while the opener's falsetto backing vocals will go on to become a major irritant across the album. Not since Tim Burgess cast himself as helium-sucking soul man on The Charlatan's Wonderland has UK indie suffered under such a self-conscious vocal effect.
That's not to suggest that the drumming is of the meat-and-potatoes variety: Matt Helders is star of the show on the second track, R U Mine, throwing full-bodied fills into the spaces between the metal chords. This is the song that most obviously reveals the Sabbath influence: a tiny guitar flurry in the final part of the chorus nods knowingly towards Paranoid.
The beats owe more to a hefty hip-hop school on One For The Road, and it's here - and on following track Arabella - that we are reminded of Alex Turner's deft lyrical skills, how he twists and turns images around the melody lines, how he instinctively seems to know which words fit where inside a singer's mouth.
The glam groove returns for I Want It All, its handclap/tambourine top-end bringing a lighter tone to the sturdiness of the Nick O'Malley's bass and the acid-fuzz of the guitar solo. But just as we become convinced that, five songs in, AM is a singular vision of rock divinity, written as a unit, No 1 Party Anthem changes the mood. Suddenly it's as if Kelly Jones of The Stereophonics has peeked over Turner's shoulder, worried that his keynote ideas are being stolen, only to realise that it's really John Lennon's solo material they are both pilfering from anyway.
Mad Sounds, despite the title, keeps the tempo down. Jamie Cook switches from guitar to organ as the song dresses itself up to resemble a less communal version of Primal Scream's Come Together - that "ooh-la-la-la" backing chorus lifted straight out of chapter one of the Bobby Gillespie songbook.
These episodes of musical pick-pocketing break the rock formula and allow the band to drop into more familiar territory for the closing stages. Fireside somehow makes perfect fusion of disco bass and harpsichord; Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High gives an OutKast spin to the rock elements heard earlier; Snap Out Of It doesn't offer much more than that now-familiar glam bump, a piano vamp and a serviceable verse followed by a catchy chorus; Knee Socks adds a nice shimmer to the guitar part, although the falsetto soul shuffle remains at odds with the rest; I Wanna Be Yours has lyrics by John Cooper Clarke, although the punk poet's droll metaphors could just as easily be Turner's own.
Ultimately, three forces are at play here: the indie guitar band who won over a generation with I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor; the wannabe rockers awakened by Homme on the Humbug sessions; the chart-friendly crew that current producer James Ford always seems to conjure up around him. AM doesn't move things on from Suck It And See; it's an album that seems to be weighing up its options even as it delivers the goods.