The Arcade Fire are not a band. They are a fairy tale: fifteen musicians trapped in a universe where it is forever night-time. Their appeal? The Arcade Fire are this decade's tortured romantics. By their name alone they evoke the looting delights of video games and furious pain of experience. The first album, Funeral is a steady journey through the underworld, beginning in the tunnels of a city where two young lovers clandestinely meet ('Tunnels'). 'Haiti' washes up on the Styx-like shores of an island torn apart by warfare, gently pushing back the debris to sing the most bittersweet of laments. But the album's uncontestable anthem is 'Rebellion (Lies)'. It is noisy, sexy, angry. Rigid, intense moments suddenly broken by an onslaught of furiously romantic piano, guitar and violins, inspiring the sort of all-out thrash dancing that takes it to the next level entirely. The new album, Neon Bible is what friends have effectively called "a grower." Whereas Funeral was almost always accessible and upbeat, Neon Bible is darker, more haunting, daring and epic. 'Keep the Car Running' is the first single to be released from the album. Being melodic and buoyant, it is perhaps an obvious choice, bearing the most resemblance to the best-loved tracks from Funeral. 'Ocean of Noise' is a mess of clouds and wind that parts to reveal a simple chord sequence and the murmur of Win Butler's vocals as he serenades the night. 'No Cars Go' replaces 'Rebellion' as the album's centrepiece, so powerful, wild and far-reaching that it is a wonder that strings did not break before the end of the recording. Such is the passion of Neon Bible. And now I ask you, am I writing to a tortured, romantic soul, an insomniac looking to engaged to the very soul by a piece of music? Or none of the above? Either way, The Arcade Fire are worth the listen, whether as innovative music-makers or as gothic, Kohl-lined jesters whose dirges pierce lonely nights.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Arcade Fire
The Arcade Fire are not a band. They are a fairy tale: fifteen musicians trapped in a universe where it is forever night-time. Their appeal? The Arcade Fire are this decade's tortured romantics. By their name alone they evoke the looting delights of video games and furious pain of experience. The first album, Funeral is a steady journey through the underworld, beginning in the tunnels of a city where two young lovers clandestinely meet ('Tunnels'). 'Haiti' washes up on the Styx-like shores of an island torn apart by warfare, gently pushing back the debris to sing the most bittersweet of laments. But the album's uncontestable anthem is 'Rebellion (Lies)'. It is noisy, sexy, angry. Rigid, intense moments suddenly broken by an onslaught of furiously romantic piano, guitar and violins, inspiring the sort of all-out thrash dancing that takes it to the next level entirely. The new album, Neon Bible is what friends have effectively called "a grower." Whereas Funeral was almost always accessible and upbeat, Neon Bible is darker, more haunting, daring and epic. 'Keep the Car Running' is the first single to be released from the album. Being melodic and buoyant, it is perhaps an obvious choice, bearing the most resemblance to the best-loved tracks from Funeral. 'Ocean of Noise' is a mess of clouds and wind that parts to reveal a simple chord sequence and the murmur of Win Butler's vocals as he serenades the night. 'No Cars Go' replaces 'Rebellion' as the album's centrepiece, so powerful, wild and far-reaching that it is a wonder that strings did not break before the end of the recording. Such is the passion of Neon Bible. And now I ask you, am I writing to a tortured, romantic soul, an insomniac looking to engaged to the very soul by a piece of music? Or none of the above? Either way, The Arcade Fire are worth the listen, whether as innovative music-makers or as gothic, Kohl-lined jesters whose dirges pierce lonely nights.
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