Arcade Fire

Album Reviews • Saturday December 22nd, 2007 • 7:14 pm

Arcade Fire burst onto the indie music roadmap three years ago with an unexpected hit album that turned the heads of the snobs as well as the more mainstream press. Funeral received near-ubiquitous praise and put this unknown Canadian septet headed by husband and wife Win Butler and Régine Chassagne on the global music map. A mix of jazz, indie guitars, steroidal Ian McCulloch vocals, and near-symphonic grandeur, it was a startlingly effective testament to personal loss and became a gigantic hit, topping countless best-of lists in 2004. Needless to say, expectations were high for the band’s sophomore effort in the interim period between Funeral’s release and the spring of 2007. Thankfully, the band doesn’t disappoint.

Neon Bible settles into a more restrained sound that speaks in statements rather than the aorta spurts of the hyper-personal Funeral. The gray skies return along with the band’s signature vignette approach, but the feeling of the album is quite a bit more extroverted than the group’s debut. While Neon Bible has its fair share of tracks that tickle the tear ducts, it’s more concerned with bleakness on a broader scale. However, the band never lulls itself to sleep on its own doom-raked dynamics, and manages to inject everything from acid jazz to jaunty swings that belie the gloomy temperament of the tracks.

If gloom is the name of the game, it’s hardly sounded better. The opening “Black Mirror” glowers like the rumbling belly of a beast, evoking a cold world of surveillance that rings uncomfortably true with contemporary politics. A mix of Snow White and George Orwell, it’s a dark beginning and sets the tone of the album. The vocals breathe poison ice and the keys stomp neatly out of line before the song ends with a reverberating explosion.

Only two songs later is a track that wears a morose coat rather than the skittish paranoia of “Black Mirror,” but still holds the overall mood. “Intervention” pries open the absurdity of conflict with its maudlin cast of soldiers, priests, and broken families. Throughout, the listener is treated to Chassagne playing the pipe organ like a bipolar Dracula as twinkling xylophone goes along for the ride. It’s an example of the efficacy of Arcade Fire’s near army of members, each lending a brushstroke to the final product of anguish.

As a ragtag band of diverse musical tastes, Arcade Fire’s work ethic prevents any one member from taking center stage. The melting pot of styles adds up to a strong product and the attention to movement and harmony is top notch. “Black Wave/Bad Vibrations” features Chassagne at center stage of a song that sounds like a heroin-tinged industrial project headed by Toni Basil. “Keep The Car Running” mixes Celtic with jazz with a healthy dose of Echo and the Bunnymen. The synth overlays fly through the mix like missile screeches. The Peter Hook-ish bassline of “The Well And The Lighthouse” gives the song a danceable quality under Butler’s vocal flourishes. All is varied, yet set into the larger framework that is the whole.

The penultimate step of Neon Bible is the most memorable. Like the propulsive “Rebellion (Lies)” off of Funeral, “No Cars Go” is an unhinged anthem of disillusioned youth that speaks simultaneously through whimsy and anger. Throughout the six-minute epic, Jeremy Gara’s snare pounds like a jackhammer into Butler’s and Chassagne’s two-pronged vocal attack. Arcade Fire melds orchestral instrumentation and arena scope without devolving into ’70s prog and this song is a good example of the band’s abilities to ground the grand. The track floats and sears, finally breaking the cloud cover with the line “between the click of the light/ and the start of the dream.” Mustering the song’s climax like a cavalry battalion, Butler calls out his allies and the song charges to its conclusion.

Neon Bible is a rich sonic tapestry of the digital age in which we fight to find answers in the flashing lights while seeking solace in the untouched corners. A heavy work of thick emotion, wry cynicism, and heavy aching, it’s a modern day classic from one of the most dynamic bands of this decade.

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