Montreal's Arcade Fire perform at St. John's Church in London, England, on Jan. 29. (Jim Dyson/Getty Images)
Neon Bible, the gorgeous second album by the Arcade Fire, features choirs, a Hungarian orchestra, a pipe organ, a hurdy-gurdy and a bevy of things that chime. A production of this scale would have been unthinkable when the Montreal band recorded its debut, Funeral, in 2004. But that was before they fell into favour with David Bowie, David Byrne and just about anyone with ears. The disc sold more than 750,000 copies, finished atop many best-of-year lists and made the band Canada’s most thrilling export since maple syrup.
While the seven-piece band has expanded its urban Gothic soundscapes, Neon Bible does not suffer from sophomore extravagance. That’s because the Arcade Fire hasn’t lost the urgency that endeared them to us in the first place. Frontman Win Butler still wails more than he sings (not a dis), and at its most passionate, Neon Bible has the emotional fervour of a revival meeting.
Butler and wife Régine Chassagne, the band’s main songwriters, are old souls who are more than a little disenchanted with the world — the lyrics touch on the spiritual emptiness of our era (“I don’t want to hear the noises on TV / I don’t want the salesman coming after me… I don’t want it faster, I don’t want it free”) but also the fallibility of faith (“Not much chance of survival / with a neon bible”).
Arcade Fire's Neon Bible. (Merge Records)
The music is equally dark, but rather than draining the listener the way Funeral did, Neon Bible opts for the slow burn. It opens up a new front in the band’s songwriting, giving us some brooding country noir (Oceans of Noise) as well as a truly majestic hymn (Intervention), while still providing the hurtling thrills that defined Funeral (The Well and the Lighthouse is sure to quicken your pulse).
Like Funeral, Neon Bible is a sublime listening experience, but I wonder how this music will age. While the Arcade Fire often evoke early Bruce Springsteen or U2, their songs don’t contain riffs per se, or even calculated melodies — the band’s talent lies in stirring up wicked gusts of emotion. Think of songs like Rebellion (Lies) or Wake Up: the intensity, the passion, is breathtaking. In the moment, Arcade Fire has the power to knock you on your ass. Once you pick yourself up, however, you’ll remember the blow, but you might not recall what it was that hit you.
Andre Mayer writes about the arts for CBC.ca.
CBC
does not endorse and is not responsible
for the content of external sites
- links will open in new window.
More from this Author
Andre Mayer
- She will survive
- The unexpected staying power of Kylie Minogue
- Alpha Mailer
- The death of literary titan Norman Mailer
- Fighting words
- How satire gives us a better understanding of armed conflict
- Era message
- Buck 65's spooky new album explores the year 1957
- Remembering Robert Goulet
- 1933-2007
