It’s time to fire up the funk machine!
ARCAde Fire limbered up for this fifth album with an intimate show in York Hall, a historic east end boxing venue.
Staged in the round, with the Canadian group crammed onto a tiny stage, the ‘special heavyweight event’ in London was a knockout.
For a sextet more accustomed to large arenas — and noted for their cryptic approach to self-promotion — that celebratory gig set out their stall for this return. If they have taken themselves too seriously in the past, Arcade Fire are now letting their hair down. the band haven’t changed tack completely — they even posted a damning review of the album on a spoof music website.
And Win Butler, who fronts the outfit with wife Regine Chassagne, has penned lyrics that are less boy-meets-girl, more boyrecoils-from-the-horrorsof
that’s to be expected. the surprise here is the music, which shuns Montreal art-rock in favour of a full- on charge into feelgood Philly soul, Abba, funk and reggae. THEIR move towards dance music is galvanised by some new collaborators, including co-producer thomas Bangalter, of daft Punk, who brings a more dynamic sense of rhythm.
Others on board include two Brits, Portishead’s Geoff Barrow and Pulp’s Steve Mackey.
the title track, a spellbinding opener at York Hall earlier this month, sets a dazzling tone.
the song is propelled by pan pipes, a piano sound that echoes Abba’ s dancing Queen and the hi-hat cymbals of Jeremy Gara, who does a passable impression of 1970s Philly soul drummer earl Young.
It also employs a catchy chorus to sweeten some scornful asides on the dangers of information overload in an age ‘where every inch of road’s got a sign’ and ‘ every inch of space in your head is filled up with the things that you read’.
Butler warms to the theme on Infinite Content (‘all your money’s already spent on it’), while Signs Of Life bemoans the lack of meaningful life for young people who, like the texasraised singer, grew up in the suburbs.
Were it not for funky horns and handclaps befitting a Stevie Wonder classic, it would all sound rather wretched. But there’s little chance of that on the band’s most succinct record in a decade.
One song, Peter Pan, approximates the digital beats of dancehall reggae; another, electric Blue, showcases Chassagne’s dreamy voice.
the playful experiments are a resounding success and a tribute to Arcade Fire’s group ethic.