News / / 29.10.13

ARCADE FIRE

REFLEKTOR (Merge)

17/20

If Arcade Fire were having a pop at achieving a new plane of grandiosity on their insanely anticipated fourth album Reflektor, they’d laid the foundations with gusto.

The clues were there in their last outing, The Suburbs, namely on the glorious and disco-infused Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) – a change in direction confirmed by the acquisition of James Murphy on primary desk duties to add his groove expertise and sensibility to proceedings. Then the news the album, Reflektor, would be a double disc, a discipline laced with a history that could generously be described as ‘dubious’.

Finally, a selection of videos were released prior to the album’s release date that showcased the band’s continued lofty ambition. Firstly the title track of the album, directed by famed music video specialist Anton Corbijn, featured an alternative version of the band in the large papier-mâché heads first seen in Sprawl II’s video. With the term ‘Reflektor’ thematically taking centre stage – see the cowboy entirely comprised of mirrors and a coffin daubed in the reflective side of a CD – on what remains the most cerebral track on the record, the band used the lyrics to split wide open their thoughts on how they are perceived and what constitutes reality within music. What do Arcade Fire represent in a music market that feels so grimly repetitive? Can you reflect or repeat trodden styles with originality and success? As Butler intones across the bridge “It’s a reflection of a reflection, of a reflection,” you can’t help but be enamoured by the contrast on show between this more groove-hungry, danceable and fun version of Arcade Fire – a version which has recently been touring under the moniker The Reflektors – and their ability to confront tense topics within this context. Is there a sense of irony that Reflektor the song is essentially a time trodden disco-ball jam? How many reflections of how many reflections are we supposed to be seeing? It’s a running theme throughout the album. Oh, and David Bowie makes a guest vocal appearance.

So rather than rejecting outright these notions of mass repetition, reflection and substance in pop music, they actively embrace it for their subsequent video release. The 22-minute showcase of album tracks Here Comes The Night Time, Normal Person and We Exist, features cameos from Bono, Micheal Cera, Keanu Reeves, James Franco, Zach Galifianakis and Ben Stiller in a neon, mirror-littered nightclub. Are these celebrities intended to represent parts of mainstream culture or guilty pleasures the band appreciate? Either way, their presence adds a carefree sense of fun, with Michael Cera taking a poke at Mumford and Sons and Michael Bublé in a cocky piece of dialogue you couldn’t possibly get away with if the album wasn’t on-par. This is not the Arcade Fire pondering social dislocation and urban isolation in The Suburbs. This is Arcade Fire going downtown, and they’ve brought the team along to celebrate. The cultural reference points keep coming with Butler paying homage to Pris from Blade Runner with a long blue strip covering his eyes, while Jonathan ‘I don’t need no more ego boost’ Ross is afforded the honour of introducing them on album track You Already Know. So if we’re all just reflecting culture and “alone on a stage in the reflective age,” the challenge facing the band is to do it a whole load better than everyone else and justify the grandiosity of their preamble. We shouldn’t have had a doubt.

This album is a victory for ambition; a cohesive double-album deserving of the name, despite clocking in at only 85 minutes. The separation between the pomp and bravado of the first half is tethered by more emotional resonance in the second. Disc One starts with the aforementioned title track and feels like welcoming back a friend who has just had a fucking good night in Las Vegas and met David Bowie. Its seven-and-a-half minute radio time is wholly justified by its drama, piano breakdowns and disco-length groove elongation. As the disc unfurls we’re treated to Flashbulb Eyes, a dubby slice of rock groove that ends without the full hypnosis taking effect. The rush and carnivalesque drama of Here Comes The Night Time pitch shifts between Grace Jones and Goat and in the process creates the kind of rush that would correct anyone who may have previously accused Win Butler et al of being po-faced and austere. Normal Person – lyrically a little obvious (“Is anything as strange as a normal person?”), but if you’re aiming for profound sloganeering in every line, you have to accept the odd clunker – is pushed through with passion and clenched fists, and reminds us Arcade Fire can do distortion.

Disc Two’s highlights are the Brian Eno …Warm Jets style climax on Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice), that again you wish could continue swelling further still. Murphy is clearly at work on the basslinetastic It’s Never Over (Oh Orpheus), feeling like a lost LCD Soundsystem special. Disc Two also sees lyrical themes leaning towards the melancholy, with Régine Chassagne becoming a more prominent feature. The simplicity of the lines in Porno and particularly the utterly glorious second single Afterlife bears witness to their wonderful multi instrumentalism and the moments of sheer euphoria that defined previous output, proving they can be transferred to an entirely different canon.

The sense of playfulness alongside the severity of ambition shown on Reflektor reeks of a band with an unerring confidence in their own ability. Though at times the obvious lyrical path has been trodden, there are tracks here which prove Arcade Fire can tackle a multitude of musical disciplines with an astounding level of competence and originality. With the expansion of their sound reaching fever pitch, they can now safely be considered one of the great bands.

 

– – – – – – – – – –

Words: Thomas Frost

CONNECT TO CRACK