Five years ago, I bought this record by merit of it being the only non-hip-hop record in my local record store’s selection of new vinyl (their selection has since improved greatly) and because of the owl on the front. Also, I thought I had heard something about the group on college radio. Nevertheless, when I first put the stylus into the groove, I had no idea what would come out of the speakers. I definitely was not, in the year 2007, expecting something that sounded like a George Harrison/Velvet Underground collaboration (in VU’s softer period, of course). The songs are delicately played, subtly sang, and hauntingly familiar–and when you’re dealing with British indie-pop, all of those qualities will work for your benefit.
indie rock
Record #100: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (2005)
If you don’t already know and love this record, I’m not sure I can say anything to convince you.
Record #95: Caveman – CoCo Beware (2011)
If you listen with a cynical ear, it would be easy to dismiss Caveman as just another Brooklyn based indie band playing mid-tempo jangly guitar rock with some keyboards thrown in for good measure. But among the throngs of indie-rock/psych-folk groups that found their genesis in the wake of Grizzly Bear’s success, Caveman stands a full head taller, and they were the only one I featured on my end-of-the-year list last year.
Record #23: Atlas Sound – Parallax (2011)
As I’ve progressed through Atlas Sound’s discography, there is a very clear trend; atmospheres become less of a focal point, the vocals are higher in the mix, and the lyrics are more coherent. The album art follows suit—Let The Blind featured a picture he liked, Logos had a picture of his Marfan Syndrome affected torso with his face blurred out with a flash.
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Record #22: Atlas Sound – Logos (2009)
For a few months, I played this record just about every day.
This had a lot to do with the fact that my car’s built-in iPod interface made it very difficult to access bands buried deep in the alphabet, but still, I didn’t mind. It’s an absolutely beautiful record, and it’s rewarding both in the background and in headphones. Continue reading
Record #18: Arcade Fire – The Suburbs (2010)
I’m going to say this only once, but I don’t want that to downplay its significance at all.
This album won a bleeding Grammy.
And not for Rock Album, or Alternative Album, or Best “New” Artist or some crap like that.
Album of the Year.
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Record #17: Arcade Fire – Neon Bible (2007)
My wife put off all of her grading this weekend and has taken over the living room with Harry Potter, so I’m listening to this record on the portable phono in our bedroom that skips every time a record gets too loud, so this listen has more struggling through quality than any of the others.
Caveat aside, Neon Bible was the first Arcade Fire album I ever heard. I heard “No Cars Go” on the local college radio station (that’s two bands I have to thank them for introducing me to…there will be many more), and I immediately knew that whoever made that song happen, I needed more of it in my life. So I purchased Neon Bible on a friend’s recommendation and a half-heard single (I had so much more faith back then), and I have never regretted it in my life.
Right off the bat, Neon Bible lets the listener know that the high stakes Funeral set are being raised. “Black Mirror” evokes a cynical “Back In The USSR,” with a sampled plane engine swooshing into a pounding piano figure, and Arcade Fire immediately takes off into a much more ambitious project than their debut. The pair of violins that sprinkled Funeral are replaced with a larger orchestra. The Farfisa they used to fill in spaces is replaced with a church organ. Samples are peppered throughout the album (like the thunderstorm that plays alongside “Ocean of Noise”). Synthesizers carry a few songs. Even the electric guitars are used to greater effect. In all honesty, the instrumentation and production on this album make Funeral look like a demo tape.
Like the White Album, they conjure in the opener, Neon Bible finds these Quebecois trying their hand at a number of different styles of songs, sometimes within the same track. The anthemic adolescent jams they filled Funeral with are still plentiful, but they’re accompanied with traditional French folk song spinoffs (the title track), bass driven ballads (“Ocean of Noise”), folk-rock singalongs (“Antichrist Television Blues”) and spaghetti Western blues (“My Body Is A Cage”). Unlike the White Album, Neon Bible never suffers for its breadth, and whereas the Beatles’ work was scattershot, the tracks on this album are still cut from the same cloth (and none of them are a labor to get through).
Musicality isn’t the only way Arcade Fire has matured, though. The forlorn teenager narrating Funeral is now a jaded adult with children of his own. His internal dialogues have grown from “what happens when I grow up and my heart dies?” to “I have grown up and my heart is dying. How can I stop it?” As someone in my early 20s throughout my entire knowledge of this album, I can pair each of the worries mentioned in the lyrics to many a sleepless night or unexpected look in the mirror (though I’m incredibly relieved that “Intervention” in no way reflects my own employment at my church).
It’s this universalism of lyrical themes, much more than channeling The Beatles or Neutral Milk Hotel or The Smiths or David Bowie, that has gathered unto Arcade Fire such a massive fan base. After all, everybody grows up, and growing up ain’t easy. But as far as capturing the terror and pain of the transition into adulthood, they certainly make it look easy.
Record #16: Arcade Fire – Funeral (2004)
When I moved to Chicago, I lived with one of the most elitist people I have ever known. He had a collection of over 2500 records, listened to mostly krautrock, post-punk, and no-wave, and he was very proud to hate the Beatles and Radiohead both. I overheard him once describing my musical taste. “He likes stupid indie rock shit like Arcade Fire,” he said. “Gay hipster music like that.”
And let it be known, he had never heard Arcade Fire in his life.
One day, I gave Funeral a spin. A couple minutes in, he said, “this is good. Who is it?”
“Arcade Fire.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s…” he paused.
“Good?” I suggested.
“Yeah! I really like the stop-start drums. It’s real post-punkish.”
“I know.”
As the record turned, he continued to comment about how much he was enjoying it, and I said nothing, satisfied (there are similar stories that end with him wincing for a while, and then stating, “I don’t want to like Beatles/Radiohead. But they’re so good.”).
At the end of the day, that’s one of the only things there is to say about Funeral. It’s not very groundbreaking–—ndie rock anthems with accordions and violins had been done before, and lyrically capturing adolescence is indie rock 101—it’s just good (keep in mind that David Bowie himself was a huge fun from the beginning). And Arcade Fire managed to pull off great indie rock with more obtuse sincerity and consistency (Funeral is only the first of three consecutive home run records) than many who had gone before or have since come.
In the grand scope of their expanded catalog, its easy to pass Funeral off as little more than a twinkle in bandleader Win Butler’s eye that would bloom into a true masterpiece, but listen to Funeral again and you’ll be reminded that it is a masterpiece in its own right.
Record #15: The Antlers – Burst Apart (2011)
I was not one of the throngs who flocked to The Antlers and praised their critical breakthrough Hospice when it was released in 2009.
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