This is just another one of those albums, you get a sense of how the whole thing is going to play out within the first couple of seconds. From the twinkling trinkets of “Neighborhood #1″ to the closing wails of “In The Backseat,” Arcade Fire’s incredible 2004 debut, Funeral is one of my favorite albums ever. It might actually be my favorite album; I don’t know, I don’t usually quantify these things. Here’s the background given in the “booklet.”
“Members fled from Texas and Ontario at young ages and joined with local youth, making their home in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Somehow they survived the first terrible winters, and in August 2003 at the dusty Hotel 2 Tango they made some preliminary recordings for a new album. Partially due to the intense heat, two of the married each other. this time in the sun was short lived however, and soon the terrible winter of 2004 was upon them. To keep warm they recorded the remaining 9 tracks, at the Hotel and in Win and Regine’s apartment, on 24 track 2 inch tape, 1/2 inch 16 track, 1/2 inch 8 track, optimus ctr-108, and G_d-forsaken Computer. When family members kept dying they realized that they should call their first record “Funeral,” noting the irony of their first full length recording bearing a name with such closure.”
The “Neighborhood” saga tells a Lord of the Flies-esque story, where children dig tunnels through the snow and start their own feral civilization. It’s fitting then, that the first song of the album is called “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels).” From the beginning, when the grainy guitar comes in unison with the airy piano, the song foreshadows it’s own pairing innocence and evil; a trick only someone who had listened to the song religiously would pick up on. “And, if the snow buries my/my neighborhood” immediately shows the influence of writing and recording during a savage Canadian winter. The children get lost in the fantasy world they create (I always picture about two dozen kids huddling around a fire in a huge burrow in the snow, right in the middle of town.) and, in their minds at least, years pass. “Then we tried to name our babies/but we forgot all the names that/the names we used to know./And sometimes we remember our bedrooms/and our parents bedrooms/and the bedrooms of our friends/then we think of our parents/well what ever happened to them?” And then? The children all go insane, of course. “You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold/as the day grows dim/I hear you sing a golden hymn/the song I’ve been trying to say./ Purify the colors/purify my mind/and spread the ashes of the colors over this heart of mine.”
The saga continues with “Neighborhood #2 (Laïka),” tho story of Alexander, and estranged older brother. This song has a lot of David Byrne influence in it, sort of yelling with pitch. Laïka was the name of the dog that the Russians launched into space, who died in orbit because they didn’t have a plan for getting him back; another way of saying “Our mother shoulda just named you ‘hopeless.” I sit and listen to the guitar at the beginning, and I can’t figure out how they made it do that; I think it sounds really cool. Again, the song dissolves into insanity: “Our older brother/bit by a vampire/for a year we caught his tears in a cup/and now we’re gonna make him drink it/Come on, Alex!/Don’t die or dry up!” This is the first time you really hear Regine’s wail as she shouts along with her husband. Just wait. We’ll hear more from her later. The song winds down to an almost surreal calm in comparison to the sheer energy earlier, but it’s a good transition into the next song.
The Quebecois influence is also often apparent in their lyrics, as they just randomly throw in French sentences with English ones, as seen in “Une Année Sans Lumière,” or “A Year Without Light.” It’s the gentlest song so far, featuring almost under-done vocals that wouldn’t have been appropriate on the other two songs, and a gently rocking guitar melody that could almost lull you to sleep. Even the hoots are quietly owl-like and less raucous than usual. However, in true rock style, they can’t have a slow song on their album! So the last 45 seconds are the sort of thing ska fans could bang their heads to. Except, you know, with no horns.
The saga continues with “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” While none of the lyrics are outwardly violent, this is certainly the most violently aura-ed song on the record, which is probably why it’s my favorite. The spitfire and rapid guitars are so percussive, they go perfect wiht the held violins and gunshot drums. “I woke up with the power out/not really something to shout about” Win scolds himself by yelling those words as the verse starts; the instruments are slightly quieter to accent the singing, but they have no less life and anger in them. Upon closer listening, you’ll hear the xylophones and the swooping guitar that serves as a ramp to get to the throat-busting high notes of each phrase, along with a crawling bassline. The section that starts at 2:48 give me chills nearly everytime I hear it, with the atonal violin and guitar riffing and singing that sounds like Win is about to keel over, it just gives the song even more energy once it’s over. This is the climax of the saga, with a video which I’m pretty sure is exactly what Win Butler was picturing when he wrote this. If you were going to go criminally insane in about five minutes, put this song on when you do it. It’ll make the crazy better. “You ain’t foolin’ nobody with the lights out.”
The saga wraps up with “Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)” the sort of day after a battle song od winding down and looking at the carnage. It welcomes you with an easily hummable guitar melody and the chord change squeeks that usually get taken out in production. It’s really incredible how well a kettle whistle goes with violins; both smooth yet wavering noises growing in intensity. “Just some water getting hotter in the flames.”
“Crown of Love” continues to mine the ballad vein, and it’s in 3:4. You know what that means; that means it’s a waltz, albeit a somewhat faster waltz than you would usually dance to, but a waltz none the less. It was arpeggio’d guitars and strings, and seemlessly flowing violins during the pleading and confessional chorus. “If you still want me/please forgive me/the crown of love/has fallen from me.” During the second verse, Regine’s signature wail comes in, and you can’t help but roll your eyes and smile; Arcade Fire, earnest to a fault. At 2:27, the song nearly collapses, and Win screams his final ultimatum, with all of the instruments, including Regine’s voice, there to back him up. The song speeds up, and the dancers frantically one-two-three and try to keep up. Then the song explodes and changes to 4:4, all the waltzers stop dancing and start skanking and/or headbanging, and Sarah and Owen (the violin players) rock out as hard as a violin can.
A guitar riffs on the same note. A drum hesitantly comes in, and then becomes confident with it’s beat. A horn comes in. Some strings. A harp glissandos, and the entire bands comes is the battlecry choir of “Wake Up.” This anthem urges you to not supress your children’s emotions, because then when they grow up they’ll have to immediately adjust to pain and failure when they grow up, and they’ll live meaning-less and emotion-less lives. “We’re just a million little gods causin’ rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust.” The second half of the song is a bob-your-head-back-and-forth ode to a senile super hero? Whatever. This song is fuckin’ awesome. “With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’ I can’t see where I am goin’ when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.”
Regine’s first song is an ode to her home country, “Haïti.” During this song, there is pretty much constant unpleasentness; either an air-raid siren, what sounds like heavy nose breathing, or slightly off key piano being pounded into submission. The (what instrument is that?) hook is near genius, and it’s so much fun to listen to her speak french. This is added to by Regine’s low-quality recorded vocals. I didn’t like this song very much at first, but it’s significantly grown on me. Good job, Regine. At the very end the tempo speeds up, and a thumping drum brings you seemlessly into
“Rebellion (Lies.)” Now, I’ve always been a fan of awesome bass lines, and this one is probably in my top 5 ever. “Sleepin’ is givin’ in, no matter what the time is. Sleepin’ is givin’ in, so lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you’ll die faster than without water, but we know it’s just a lie; scare your son, scare your daughter.” And the violins take over the melody, and you realize that this is one of those songs that gives you hope for humanity. At 2:57 Win starts belting again, and there’s just these two handclaps that just make me smile and get even more into the song. The resounding chorus of “Lies! Lies!” echoes in your subconcious long after the song, the day, the month even, is done. This is tied with “Power Out” as my favorite song by these guys, and they’re one of my favorite artists.“Everytime you close your eyes, lies, lies.”
“In the Backseat” opens like a piano ballad, with Regine actually sounding pretty as she muses about the perks of not having to drive. However, as the chorus begins, the fuzzy guitars and aggressive strings come in as Regine sings like shes about to break down in tears. It calms down again, as the fuzz is lifted and the strings float you towards the second verse along with a muted drumroll. Then, of course, the song explodes again, and Regine begins to really wail in anguish. Again, I originally considered this song to be fluff, but I really get into the pain in her voice, even though her lyrics don’t really make any sense after the first couplet. As the song slowly winds back down and everything besides the strings fade out, you realize that there probably couldn’t have been a more appropriate ending to this record.
Funeral
