Suburban hymns

I’ve heard The Suburbs being referred to as a return to form for Arcade Fire, which implies that Neon Bible was somehow a poor album - to me an astonishing accusation. While I wouldn’t objectively try to claim that the latter is better than the wonderful Funeral, the fact is I can listen to the likes of Intervention and No Cars Go over and over with no noticeable diminishment of pleasure. Bold, epic songs dealing with all manner of Big Issues, what’s not to like?

Well, seems like some considered those songs to be overblown and empty, which left Arcade Fire in an interesting position - as big a cult band as could possibly be, never likely to break into the mainstream and in slight danger of losing a section of their fanbase, not to mention some of their humanity, due to a perceived excess of grandiosity. However, The Suburbs should satisfy pretty much everybody.

Initial signs weren’t too promising. The title track and Month of May were released a couple of months ago, the latter in particular sounding like a regressive step - a generic punky song that could have been recorded by any number of lesser bands. Thankfully this has proved to be a red herring, the only easily-skippable track on the album although even then it still sounds better in context.

Meanwhile, The Suburbs itself, its lolloping piano reminiscent of old music hall tunes, proves to be an effective opener, easing the listener in gently while warning you that things have changed sonically since the last record. Ready To Start is decent enough too, but the real fun starts with Modern Man - a staccato riff kicks straight in and with it a large sigh of relief on my part. I now knew that, despite the casting-off of their more epic and euphoric clothes, this is still a band who can throw out instantly memorable hooks and who can somehow beam their music directly to the emotional nerve centres of my brain. Phew!

The overall sound hasn’t been pared back too drastically, it’s rather that Arcade Fire have discovered how to elicit the same emotional responses from the listener by doing less. Songs like City With No Children and Suburban War are enormously affecting, the latter building up as well as anything in their oeuvre but in a supremely controlled manner. Gone are the euphoric wig-outs with everybody bashing away at once. I can imagine these songs not being as fun to watch live as a result, and certainly some of the band won’t have half as much to do onstage, but it seems like a logical and necessary evolution, proof that they are not one-trick-ponies and aren’t willing to stand still.

The Suburbs is also their most cohesive record so far, every piece fitting snugly into place and the lyrical motifs of sad yet wistful nostalgia all ringing true. There’s also the return of two-part, numbered songs. Halfway through comes Half Light - Part I of which is sombre and steady, before turning into a moodily upbeat, Depeche Mode-ish electronic number in Part II. At the end, they perform the same trick but even more so. Just as you think the album is winding down after the mournful Sprawl I, you’re hit with the sparkling synth monster that is Sprawl II, a track which could be accused of hitching onto the 80s revival bandwagon if it didn’t effortlessly trounce all of its competition. Indeed, it’s so different to what’s gone before - and yet slots fits in with it so perfectly - that it makes me feel giddy and needing to pinch myself to make sure it’s real. Perhaps album four will be an electropop masterpiece.

Proceedings draw to a close with an elegiac reprise of the title track, an attempt make the album appear more of a genuine high-concept narrative piece than it really is. Still, it never did Sergeant Pepper any harm.

Summary: It’s quite good. Buy it.