Upon first listen, The Suburbs, Canadian indie-powerhouse Arcade Fire’s third studio album, doesn’t sound like much.
It doesn’t boast tracks that are as singularly powerful as Funeral’s “Wake Up” and “Rebellion (Lies)”, nor ones that are as grandiose as Neon Bible’s “Black Mirror”.
But while Arcade Fire’s earlier albums showcased an almost adolescent angst, a fear of being abandoned and agony about the impending destruction of the world, The Suburbs is its grown-up counterpart, concentrating on the realities of responsibility and the acerbity of adult disappointments.
The album as a whole is darker, subtler, and less prone to overblown arrangements a la Neon Bible, but the subtlety, both musically and thematically, doesn’t make it any less profound.
If anything, where Neon Bible made universal declarations and harped on the problems of society as a whole, The Suburbs stays focused on the plight of the individual, leading to an overall more personal listening experience.
The Suburbs opens with the titular track, a haunting piece that utilizes a delicate melody and speaks of disillusionment that comes with bland suburbia and broken marriages.
Vocalist Win Butler croons softly about the loss of enchantment and energy, which is reflected in the restrained music, a far departure from Funeral’s and Neon Bible’s ornate overtures.
“Ready to Start”, the album’s second track and first single, has a more powerful rhythm than the first, drawing on a hammering drum beat and boisterous vocals to send the listener down a stream of anger and regret.
“Businessmen drink my blood/Like the kids in art school said they would,” Butler sings, reminding the listener that the days of unbridled possibility and imagination have come to an end; there’s no time to float on the ethereal melodies of Funeral’s “Haiti,” or pump out the youthful, idealistic lyrics of Neon Bible’s “Intervention.”
The Suburbs’ two best offerings, third track “Modern Man” and the penultimate track “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)”, are polar opposites in composition, but are equally haunting and penetrating.
“Modern Man” starts out with pumping percussions and Butler’s falsetto vocals, the lyrics sticking to images of ticking clocks, lines and numbers, reminding us of the assembly-line structures our lives form when we resign ourselves to adulthood.
The title and lyrics alike are reminiscent, perhaps accidentally, of Charlie Chaplin’s 1936 film, Modern Times, a comedic social commentary on modern industrialization, and an appropriate reference for The Suburbs’ overall theme of assimilation and the death of personal creativity.
“Sprawl II”, on the other hand, is a thumping, energetic epic that paints pictures of light and dark, mountains and shopping malls, freedom and failure. Régine Chassagne, Arcade Fire’s other main member (and Butler’s wife) lends her silky soprano as lead vocalist, resulting in a more fantastical feel.
The lyrics of “Sprawl II” are as sad and hopeless as the rest of the album’s songs, but somehow the rambling, thrilling melody and twinkling synth notes send up a sense of optimism, a return to Arcade Fire’s old, rebellious self.
“Sprawl II” reminds us that while Arcade Fire may be getting older, they haven’t quite lost the mischievousness and childlike charm they’ve always harbored.
The Suburbs is, in many ways, a sad album, one that eschews fantasy for reality, and it’s certainly a far departure from most of what has characterized Arcade Fire albums in the past.
But where Funeral was an imaginative child, and Neon Bible was a tormented, idealistic youth, The Suburbs is the resigned adult, one who has come to terms with his or her own truths. It may not be a pretty picture, but it certainly is a resounding one.
