|
Arcade Fire - Funeral I'm not sure what it is about Canada, but every time a new cd arrives equipped with a press sheet mentioning the unlikely northern extremes (usually around the first line), I get a favourable tingling of anticipation. There seems to be an endless line of exciting bands creeping out of the whiteness at the moment, and not one to kill the trend, Arcade Fire have pretty much built it an all new, easy-access highway. If you regularly read any indie-related publications then no doubt this Montreal band have already crossed your path numerous times; the hype has been constant and considerable, but also entirely justified. This is an emotional oscillator of a debut: cheerily uplifting yet on the brink of despair, fragile and intimate yet a big, showy hand of companionship... I could go on. It's very hard not to be distracted into writing starry-eyed passages of vague romanticism when describing Funeral - numerous severe reworkings of this review will testify to this - but these are the kind of idealistic moods it provokes. The impressive emotional scope on display is explainable somewhat by the time of writing; a period that saw the deaths of several family members (hence the title), and also the contrasting wedding of central songwriters (and vocalists) Win Butler and Régine Chassagne. Arcade Fire land somewhere around indie-pop territory, but the musical and structural ambitions are flung far and wide beyond this, and the band employ a great number of diverse instruments and genres to this end. Each song is a progressive venture that will typically finish many unrecognisable miles away from where it began. This high-mindedness seems to be at odds with certain other aspects of the band however; behind the elegant theatricalism is an improvised, down-to-earth buoyancy. Despite all the grandeur, this is an unexpectedly homely bunch at heart. As such, any ostentatiousness is prevented - see the kitch-like charm of an included accordion or tea whistle. Funeral comprises tenderly crafted epics of joy and quiet despair, ending up as a bunch of supremely uplifting and enigmatic pop songs. It's a considerable achievement, and one which should be familiar news to both you and your stereo by now; if not I promise not to tell if you promise to fix it pronto. matt |
