21 November 2008 :: Fortunately, Buckethead.

:: Record Review

Arcade Fire

Arcade Fire EP / Funeral
(Self-released/Merge; 2003/2004)

Rating: 84 / 90%
Combined Rating: N/A / 82%

Faced with tragedy, some choose to retreat deeply inward, breaking themselves off from the outside world. Others find the urge to create -- to exorcise such experiences into as grand and cathartic a statement as they possibly can. Having, as a group, been through Mark Everett-level melodrama since the recording of their debut EP almost two years ago (including numerous deaths, band break-ups/rebuilding and, to top it all off, an inter-band marriage between its two vocalists, Win Butler and Régine Chassagne), Arcade Fire have chosen to channel all of their still-gestating hardships into the one thing that brought them, with roots from the US, Canada and Haiti (currently calling Montreal their home), together in the first place.

It's only been the span of a year since their independently released EP Arcade Fire, before all of the funerals and weddings, but for those lucky enough to catch the group's live show in any stage of its continual development, what the band delivers with Funeral -- their first full length for a label, Merge, and the result of all of that focused misfortune -- shouldn't be too much of a shock. Far more intense and animate than the soothing and romantic atmospheric folk that had taken up the majority of Arcade Fire, it captures both the incredible energy the band exerts live and Win Butler's bizarre and eccentric control -- his voice a compelling mixture between Mercury Rev's Jonathan Donahue, Broken Social Scene's Kevin Drew and Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst -- over his audience, from the largest arrangement to the sparest of acoustic ballads.

His group's music, unlike the vocal mannerisms, isn't so easy to pin down or cross-reference. The post-David Baker Mercury Rev feel that had been deeply imprinted in Arcade Fire bookends "Old Flame" and "Vampire Forest Fire" is still present, especially on opener "Neighbourhood 1 (Tunnels)," though now filtered through a larger sonic palette at the hands of a tighter songwriter. It picks up exactly where "Vampire" had left off, but, much like the music's relation to the album's somber title, feels far more celebratory and fulfilled, performed with a passion that had been noticeably absent on Arcade Fire's weaker, overly relaxed moments. Funeral also makes the most of the group's several multi-instrumentalists, offering an array of instrumental counterpoints, from violin, piano and accordion to strings, bells and synths.

The album's neighbourhood suite -- "Tunnels," "Laika," "Power Out" & "7 Kettles" -- alone finds the band exploring all of the greatest aspects of their live show and the unique, enveloping dream-folk of Arcade Fire's "My Heart Is An Apple" and "No Cars Go." "Laika" and "Power Out" continue to grow on "Tunnels'" slow, brooding climax, with Butler's voice breaking into Oberst-like wails, and the quality somehow manages to grow with each, as well. Both continue in the suite's lyrical focus on markedly personal, relationship-oriented couplets -- from off-hand in-jokes like "Come on Alex / You can do it!" to more considered, poignant dissections of young love and rebellion. Musically, the climax continues to grow until "Power Out" bursts from the speakers, dropping 'Laika's" great chorus hook in turn for a blistering atmosphere.

The final piece of the suite, "7 Kettles," brings a beautiful close to the record's first side that, despite its bland chorus lyric, is oddly hypnotic and compelling in a way that was absent during the opening tracks, save the equally moving "Une Annee Sans Lumiere," a short intermission between both halves of the suite. "Lumiere" isn't quite as successful as "7 Kettles" as an evolution of Arcade Fire's ambitious folk leanings, though its extended closing is certainly one of the highlights of the record's nearly flawless first half.

"Crown of Love" opens the second side and picks up the tempo once again, nicely juxtaposing the desperate chorus pleas with some very sharp, morose imagery, from "I carved your name across my eyelids. . . / You pray for rain, I pray for blindness" to "My love keeps growing / Still the same, just like a cancer." "Wake Up" may come on a little strong, especially following the mid-tempo swells of "Love," but, much like its task in opening their live shows, it pulls us back into the group's ability to craft one hell of a orchestrated pop epic with enough twists behind it to make its march an essential part of Funeral. Well, at least until the song breaks into the "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" beat, triggers the word "jitterbug" and prances its way to a underwhelming close.

Luckily, "Haiti" -- vaguely reminiscent of Arcade Fire's mediocre "Woodland National Anthem" -- is there to make up for any slight missteps, and only the monotonous and prominent one-note piano solo that is persistent throughout the song's final verse could be seen as a flaw. Chassagne's vocals take a less prominent role than usual, instead gently nudging forward the ingeniously simple three chord progression, encased in wavering synths and distant atmospherics. It flows seamlessly into "Rebellion (Lies)," which picks up where "Wake Up" had left off, returning from "Haiti's" psychedelic take on highly accessible '80s pop. Once again a deceptively simple three chord riff lays behind a invigorated Butler, who saves the song from its overly pompous chorus (the chanting isn't the album's finest addition) and hit-and-miss lyrics with one of the record's best vocal performances.

Which leaves just "In the Back Seat," Chassagne's only other vocal lead, to close out the incredibly ambitious body of Funeral. Though clearly not the track's only memorable or moving quality, her vocal similarity to Bjork becomes especially clear here, much as it did on Arcade Fire's meandering "I'm Sleeping in a Submarine" -- which, despite its whirling vocal tag and inventive build, fails to take off quite like "Back Seat." Even before she hits the chilling high note during the song's climax, Chassagne gives us what is by far her best effort yet, pondering the simple joys of experiencing life as a passenger, merely taking everything in instead of actively controlling it. The music builds from awakening strings and piano to yet another cacophonic blow-out, exalting the gorgeous chorus melody into another stratosphere altogether.

And there it is. The album that fans of their live show knew was arriving, and a wonderful surprise to anyone else that wasn't so lucky to know what has been, until know, localized in small bars across North America. To compare the group's two records is ultimately useless, as the former makes the best of its lo-fi trappings, developing an early template that would be the starting block for their full length. Funeral, on the other hand, is a realization of what they'd set out to practice with Arcade Fire, and is a resounding success on all levels -- the group clearly able to make something incredible out of the familiar, and something inexplicably moving out of one emotionally draining year. Scott Reid :: 22 September 2004 |                

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