Wow. I saw Arcade Fire last week at St John’s, Smith Square, a church as gloriously baroque as the band’s music. Interestingly, the church has not been deconsecrated, so the gig was taking place on holy ground.
They played nearly all of the new album, Neon Bible, and threw a couple of oldies in for thefans, after frontman Win knowingly commented that “it’s a drag when bands turn up wanting to play the new stuff, when all you want is for them to play the fuckin’ hits.”
I always thought they sounded like the Pixies mixed with Talking Heads, but the sound I couldn’t shake out of my head this time was the crooning, anguished yelp of 80’s icon Ian McCulloch and his band of guitar rock heroes. The two bands share a yearning, soaring gift for the operatic, both aiming for the emotional breaking point. But where the Bunnymen placed themselves head and shoulders above the crowd, Arcade fire literally and figuratively dive right in.
They still resemble a touring ramshackle Victorian peepshow, Win in particular a feisty young street-urchin who’ll have you shoes off your feet before you’ve even noticed that your wallet and watch have gone missing. The band are all over the small stage, augmented tonight with an extra brass section and a profusion of percussion. Between songs they frequently let out odd parps, twangs and electronic bleeps, often drowning out a presumably amusing anecdote being told by their leader.
The new stuff is great, by turns frantic, moody, haunting, rockabilly and anthemic. Although talking later I realise it’s almost impossible to sing an Arcade Fire song to yourself, in the context of the gig every single one sounds like an age old sea shanty or ingrained in the tarmac Springsteen americana classic.
At the end the band grab their instruments and exit the church through the centre of the crowd. We linger for a moment, discussing what just happened, then make our way home. As we leave we’re confronted with the sight of the band set up and playing on the steps of the church. It’s “Wake Up” from first album, Funeral. Played on double bass, squeezebox and loudhailer. It’s chilling, ecstatic, soothing and something very, very special. Nearby residents are opening their windows on a cold January night. Everyone exchanges “wow” looks with each other. Everybody is smiling.
Just spotted some cool new functionality when searching for music artists in Google – detailed tracklistings, lyrics, alternate song versions, artist website links and newsgroup comments all aggregated together in one place. Very clever.
