Arcade Fire :: The Suburbs :: Merge Records
Rating 9/10
In 2000, two-thirds of Americans lived in low-density suburbs, according to Barbara McCuen’s “Sprawl: Are the Suburbs Consuming the Country?” In 2000 Arcade Fire frontman Win Butler moved to Montreal from Sarah Lawrence College, one of Northeast’s most prototypical small liberal arts colleges, which happens to be located in a suburban zip code (Bronxville). In 2000, his bandmate brother Will was still attending Phillips Exeter Academy in suburban Exeter, NH, and spending his summers in planned community The Woodlands, TX.
So I’d say it’s safe to assume that Arcade Fire have been at least thinking about The Suburbs for the past decade. We could toss up any number of reasons why this seven-year-old act took that long to tackle it. The grieving galvanizations of Funeral, the crises of faith of Neon Bible, and the sheer fatigue of blowing the hell up in the mid-aughts undoubtedly contributed to their telling their epic suburban tale now.
As is to be expected their story is as complex as it is fun to listen to. Opening title track “The Suburbs” begins with a cymbal crash, a popping piano line and a possible throwback to Funeral finisher “In the Backseat” as Win sings of learning to drive, fighting in suburban wars and tiring of them before the first bombs fell. Like the band’s best past work, the lyrics are widely open to interpretation, but Butler’s frustration is clear from closing lines “In my dreams we’re still screaming.” Such goes the remainder of the record — an argument against the apathy, boredom and ideological waste that comes with suburban living.
On the single-ready “Ready to Start” Butler complains of blood-sucking businessmen. On “Modern Man” he echoes the National’s “Mistaken for Strangers,” taking on the persona of a young professional with suffocating responsibilities. On “Rococo” he puts down either intellectually masturbational hipsterism or teenagers (or both) with fuzzed-out guitars, synths and the spare lyrics: “Using great big words that they don’t understand…They seem so wild but they are so tame.”
And that’s barely the first four songs. The Suburbs delivers exactly what we’ve expected from Arcade Fire all along: thematically agenda-laden poetry, layers of eclectic backing instruments, and overwhelming earnestness. It comes as no surprise that the BBC hailed it as their OK Computer.
And yet… it’s really not.
The Suburbs is precious, and beautiful, and one of this year’s best and most important albums, just as Funeral and Neon Bible both were. But what The Suburbs does not do is change things for Arcade Fire, as OK Computer did for Radiohead. Over the past six years, this little band from Montreal touched people like few other bands in the hectic ’00s did. They yanked on our collective heartstrings with relatable lyrics, masked-pop songwriting, and huge orchestration to back it. To their credit The Suburbs continues that trend and brings us full-circle.
Funeral dealt with loss of innocence, Neon Bible dealt with loss of faith, The Suburbs deals with the loss of your middle-American hometown. On “Half Light II (No Celebration),” Butler sings of his birthplace, “One day they will see it’s long gone,” and while his delivery is emotionally gripping, and while the album’s synths and huge production-quality is overwhelming, Arcade Fire remain a band that is about growing up and dealing with issues.
This isn’t a bad thing, but it is more of the same. If you loved Funeral and you loved Neon Bible, you will love The Suburbs as much as I do, because it works to the same end, and its only semi-dud is pre-release punk-wannabe “Month of May.” It’s an album by a band with a well-defined aesthetic, at the top of their game, crafting unimpeachable music.
Just keep in mind that Win Butler is now in his thirties, and the band that has so far been about growing up might look in the mirror one day and discover that they’ve been adults for a while now. It might be nice to see and hear them playing with adulthood itself rather than the steps they took to get there.
For now though, it’s hardly necessary. “Suburban War,” “The Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains),” and the rest of this near-perfect album will make you fall in love with them all over again, just as I did.
—Eric Vilas-Boas
