Arcade Fire Pt. 2341234143: Funeral
Prologue: If I am not careful, I will simply do nothing but gush with joy throughout this album review, and it would be as disturbing as it sounds when you read it out loud.
Funeral is the first I ever heard of Arcade Fire, and I don’t know if anything else they do will be able to measure up to it in my mind. That being said, I’ll be on my way; I’ll try and be reasonably objective, or at least usefully descriptive, about it.
Funeral
Funeral opens with a little number called “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)”, which is by and far my favorite Arcade Fire track. Every musical voice melds together into one grand medium that almost seems ill-contained in only one media format. This song is really where Arcade Fire best transcends the common multi-instrumental identity of this era. Usually, it sounds really great (to okay, to bad, it depends) to have each quirky instrument give its own bit to the sound of a band or of a song. Here, on the other hand, the voices act in perfect concert. Consider the opening seconds of this song. The strings, twinkling piano, and reverberated guitar create a starry and snowy background in a way that de-emphasizes the distinction between each instrument.
The next two songs finish up the wonderfully effective High Fidelity rule: start out strong, continue stronger with the next song, and then cut to a softer song.
“Neighborhood #2 (Laika)” turns the intense serenity of the first song upside down with surprising force. “Une Anne Sans Lumiere” seems to be a catchy pop song of the day with some interesting instrumental nooks and crannies and some Dali-esque mixture of French and English. However, Arcade Fire livens it up with an interesting tempo change that has become a signature of their sound (to me, anyways).
The most interesting songs confused me at first. “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” hit me in the face with a hodgepodge of the same instruments you’ve been hearing transformed into a wave of force. “Haiti” seemed like a misguided attempt at a Caribbean theme, but it really hit my heart when I gave the lyrics a closer listen. Another tempo change, this time in “Crown of Love”, first hit me as a weird disco vehicle, but I later realized that it fully illustrates the passion that the band exudes in the last half of the song. The final track, “In the Backseat”, ends on a powerful and mysterious note. Singer Regine Chassagne shows off her vocal strength (imperfections and all) that make her stand out as a female vocalist, despite being one of many that sound a lot like Bjork.
This album is about growing up, and it works on many levels. I can’t point out anything done perfectly on this album (many of the string arrangements leave much to be desired), but that’s completely besides that point. I believe that this Arcade Fire album expresses more pain than hope: the pain of adjusting to new surroundings and the loss of old concepts that used to define oneself completely. You can find this pain in the simple subject matter of the lyrics, in the pleading sorrow of the music, and even in the sometimes uncomfortable instrumental arrangements. Thus, this isn’t necessarily an album that will sweep you off of your feet at your first listen. If you gave this a go and didn’t like it, I really think you should give it another. If this album were to be done with you the very first time you listened to it, I wouldn’t dare call it a great album.
I do so dare. 5 out of 5 stars, because even Funeral’s greatest weaknesses work so well towards its inner soul.
Next time: Neon Bible
