Rediscovering one of ‘my’ bands

Michael Leibner
Contributor
I’ve always thought of the bands or artists that matter to me as falling into one of two distinct categories.
The first consists of those I think of as great – the ones that inspire me, leaving in their dust the memory of other, lesser music and soon fades from mind.
Then there are the bands that, juvenile as it may sound, I think of as being my bands. By this I do not mean to assert any claims of ownership over them, like I do over my BlackBerry.
Nor do I harbour any illusions that, even though countless others listen to my bands, nobody really gets them the way I do.
I only mean that I feel a particularly strong connection to their music, a certain intuitive truth that resonates strongly with me.
A few years ago now, when I was just beginning university and also just properly discovering the endless joys of music, Montreal’s Arcade Fire became one of those bands. Their debut, 2004’s Funeral, was a blast of energetic pop-punk with a streak of melancholy and reflection, expressing dissatisfaction alongside a defiant Romanticism.
With Neon Bible in 2007, they upped the gloom factor significantly, along with the righteous defiance. I loved it at the time, though parts of it now give me the impression that the band was feeling the weight of enormous expectations. Still, when it’s good – which is often – it’s very, very good.
Over time, as I listened to more music and my ideas about music and other things evolved, I began to listen to Arcade Fire less, until they were no longer one of those bands for me, even if I would always feel a certain nostalgic attachment.
Early last summer, details began to emerge about a new album; I was eager to hear it, but was also sceptical. I wondered: did this band even matter to me anymore, or would the new album only prove to widen the gap between us?
Before long, the band announced a couple of short notice warm-up gigs at the Danforth Music Hall, an intimate seated venue which is now sadly defunct. I had to go, having never seen them live. I headed down early on the day of the first show to pick up a ticket and, inspired by a palpable excitement in the air, immediately entered the line-up to wait for the doors to open.
Once inside, I realized the buzz spreading through the packed theatre was unmistakably genuine. This band had long outgrown such intimate, mid-sized venues, and the opportunity we were being afforded here was a rare one.
Needless to say, the band and the audience delivered in every way imaginable. I had heard good things about their performances, but the level of energy in that theatre blew me away. It felt as though the band was just as excited to be playing to a smaller crowd as we were to be seeing them, and it made for a wholly joyous, cathartic night.
The new songs were deservedly met with enthusiasm, and the familiar ones sent the crowd into a frenzy. Shouting along to songs like “Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels)” and “Intervention” is near irresistible, and if you’re not screaming your lungs out during a live performance of “Wake Up,” I have serious concerns for your well being.
The show reminded me of why I loved Arcade Fire’s music in the first place. It was fiery, honest and personal and, somehow, it just connected on this night.
Listening to their new album, The Suburbs, Arcade Fire sound more comfortable in their own skin than ever before. Sprawling and ambitious, repeated listens reveal a treasure chest of rich subtlety where even the smallest of details have been thought out with care.
In “Suburban War,” a song about the struggle to leave one’s past behind, ghostly, distant cries linger in the background. As the title track, “The Suburbs,” concludes, the song’s deceptively simple riff and Win Butler’s wails of “In my dreams we’re still screaming” are drowned in the rising discordant strings as a more sinister guitar riff is introduced, thrusting us straight into the breath of fresh air that is “Ready to Start.”
If that sounds a bit melodramatic, well, it is. And while the lyrical focus on the suburbs may be laid on a bit thick at times, the music is never less than engaging, and the album sounds like a band fulfilling their potential by coming to terms with both where they’re from and where they’re going.