At the time of its release, The Suburbs was described in many outlets as a “return to form” for Arcade Fire. Besides the fact that this suggests that Neon Bible was an obvious quality drop, it is also not the case that Arcade Fire was returning to some previous successful formula for their third record. It is true that imagery of the American dream and of youthful innocence is more akin to that of Funeral, but it was by no means any kind of return. What The Suburbs was for Arcade Fire was a means to amalgamate, to take the raw emotion of their debut and infuse it with the conceptual sweeping grandness more akin of their last record, as well as a embracing of Americana to add base to that.
The result was The Suburbs, an album that wears its influence, themes on its ideals on its sleeve. As Win and Régine have both said, it is a letter from the suburbs itself, not a means to be for or against this symbol of the American Dream. The houses within the white picket fences are images that American artists have returned to time and time again. Whether it is the nuclear family idea presented in many a fifties sitcom, to films like Shadow of a Doubt and especially Blue Velvet showing the dark values those houses are built upon, or the works of many a Generation X auteur like Richard Linklater (whose work we’ll definitely be coming back to in this review) who lived among that ideal even after it had been so thoroughly ripped apart.
Arcade Fire’s suburbs are something built upon that awareness of a mythic creation, and that this consciousness has not in turn stopped its existence. By the beginning and end tags of this album “The Suburbs” still continue, within this tapestry we feel ourselves and the band aging along with it. And through this time we experience birth upon birth, life, freedom and oppression – sometimes at the same time – before we arrive at death. You know; the big ideas. The big emotions. “The feeling” that Arcade Fire excels at. They wouldn’t have The Suburbs any other way.
The Suburbs begins with its title track, serving as both prologue and mission statement for the entire album that begins with a loud clash of cymbal and piano. Throughout this acoustic and piano march we are introduced to ideas that will permeate through almost every song, from the suburban war to the vague “feeling” that comes up time and time again. The third verse of this song is still my favourite lyrical passage that Arcade Fire has ever written, describing Win’s wishes to have a daughter – or at the very least a son – before the world “damages” him or the child, and then sets off into those hot pavements and grass that he fears will cause that damage. Win and Régine would go on to have a baby son. They now change the lyric to “send me a perfect son”
The next three songs are strange in that, as well as describing this suburban life, they also seem to be describing the band itself. The most overt of these is “Ready to Start,” the perfect concert with racing guitar, piano and violin racing into action. The band here seems to discuss their own assimilation into mass culture, from Bob Dylan references to business men drinking their blood, to art-school classmates displaying both judgement and hypocrisy at their decisions, to a deconstruction of the “emperor with no clothes” story. By the out the tempo changes and the strings build, the music becoming as open as both his mind and the door he is walking out of.
“Modern Man” is one of my favourite Arcade Fire “deep cuts,” a sprawling rocker with an unusual time signature that at the same time acts as a rebuttal to the idea that to be a modern man is to be on conforming to the same kind of American lifestyle. “Like a record that’s skipping I’m a modern man” is a particularly ironic line given the embrace of vinyl again in the last five years; this album was itself first printed on vinyl lacquer singles before anything else.
If “Modern Man” was a critique of the conformity of the suburbanite, “Rococo” is a critique on those who maintain conformity whilst still considering themselves superior to the lifestyle. Back then this would be a group of people we would call “hipsters”, but today they would be called “hipsters” because we call everything esoteric today fucking hipster. Some might call this an easy target, but considering that Arcade Fire is still today called hipster by people who don’t seem to understand what that word means and how it doesn’t really apply to probably the biggest band in the world, I think it is a point and distinction worth making. The music itself seem to be as joyous as it is mocking, with soaring strings, an off kilter melody that is in triplets when the song is in 4/4, and by the end even a harpsichord.
“Empty Room” is one of two songs on The Suburbs that seem to embrace the wall-of-sound production method made famous by iconic producer and shitbag Phil Spector. This is my preferred of the two songs, the reverb appropriate for the picture of the empty room that this song wishes to depict. As the tension rises the strings, guitars and drums also seem to become lost within each other. By the end, Régine’s voice itself disappears, displaying the very loneliness that she is singing of.
“City of No Children” is a song that seems to place its own nostalgia in place of a location that has no children to form unique memories of their own. That’s true at least of the first verse, which paints a scenario of youthful memories amidst joyous guitars and backing vocals by Régine. The second verse meanwhile returns to their own fame, wondering whether them as millionaires can make criticisms of a culture they are part (by borrowing an old George Orwell quote). By then the private prison of the suburbs, and the private prison of success, becomes one and the same.
The next two songs are in the tradition of the Arcade Fire multi-part suite. “Half Light I” has Regine return to lead amidst repetitive guitars and the slight ring of bells, until Win returns for a scenario of esaping from parent that is in some respects similar to “Neighbourhood #1: Tunnels”. The difference here is that the search for knowledge is symbolised by the “half-light,” and its not they can’t remember people’s names, it’s that they can’t recognise each other.
“Half Light II (No Celebration)” show the pair leaving the town. It is another song that appears to use the wall-of-sound, and here to less success. This is not a slight on the song itself, where the piano and guitar-led bridge in the middle wherein Win cries “some people say/ We’ve already lost/ But they’re afraid to pay the cost” is one of the album’s best moments, returning again to the subject of rebellion whilst still showing the loneliness in their rebellion. But the muddy production otherwise means this is probably my least favourite song on the album
Meanwhile “Suburban War” is my favourite song, not just from The Suburbs, but from Arcade Fire’s entire discography. Essentially the finale of Stand by Me in song from, it tells the story of two childhood friends who grow up together and then, for no other reason than the passing of time, change who they are as people and begin to separate. It’s the youthful abandonment of Funeral examined to its most logical conclusion, amid a melancholic guitar riff and bright acoustic/ piano that compliments the story perfectly. In fact, the song itself is structured almost like one from Funeral, with the outro changing rhythm and trying to break out of the original tune. But it just can’t become its own entity, no matter how much it tries.
“Suburban War’s” melancholy is counterpointed very quickly by the straight on rocker of “Month of May”. One of four songs in a row to deal with the subject of time, and hear it is dealt with in a panicked manner. “Arms folded tight” an act of defiance, with music just as defiant as the guitars and drums rush along. It’s probably the closest thing to something “heavy” that Arcade Fire has ever written.
By contrast, “Wasted Hours” is an acoustic song with an organ backing that wouldn’t sound out of place on The Beatles/White Album. It’s rhythm skips along in a youthful manner, like the “kids in buses longing to be free”. It would be tempted to say that these “Wasted Hours” would be something to rebel against, but by the end of the album that will be shown to be untrue.
Going back to “Suburban Wars”, when I first watched Boyhood I was delighted when the year 2010 was capitalised by having it play whilst main character Mason was driving. However, I remember thinking even then that it was a shame they didn’t use “Deep Blue” in that scene, as its lyrics encapsulates its views on time – the “golden moment”, the now – more than any other song I could think of, along with its bright but somber tone of pianos and acoustic guitars complementing almost the exact feel of the movie. So I got an extra surprise when it was used for the credits song to end the entire movie. Sometimes life is nice like that.
The final part of this time quadrilogy, as I am calling it, is “We Use to Wait,” a song defined by its endless staccato piano upon which all the other instruments seem to bounce off on. With references to T.S Eliot and a very U2 like verse about the act of singing, it goes from many areas of life which use to take much longer but now seem given in the ever connecting world: communication; travel; a singer getting to the chorus. Quite aptly then, it would have a famous interactive music video showing off the speed of the new Chrome Browser. No letter writing ever needed, then.
After this passage of time the final songs of The Suburbs – another two-parter, connected to the next song via an incident with a police officer , and then a coda – tell the story from a different era of time. The first part, “Sprawl I (Flatland),” is told from one point of view by Win, and has a slow tempo accompanying suspended chords that really emphasise the long passage of time. It feels as long as its counterpart despite being half the length, but unlike almost every other piece of entertainment I use that description for I mean it as a compliment; it really adds to the alien nature and disconnect that the narrator feels from the town he does not feel a part of.
Meanwhile “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains),” told from Régine’s point of view, seems much brighter combatant (and would be my own favourite song from the album if not for “Suburban War”). Its thumping pianos assists a rumbling synth bass and bright sequencer lines, in some ways a taste for the electronic experiments that were to come on their next album, as Régine wails against the sprawl of cities that look set to overtake that of the suburb, criticising a world that tells her to stick to the conformity of a 9-5 job (“quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock”) when the same culture wouldn’t like her “kind” anyway. By the end, it is better to “cut the lights” from it entirely, rather than live in the light of the Sprawl.
The Suburbs final coda presents the band at both its most nostalgic and melancholy. Through the beauty of orchestral/synth strings and the light tapping of drums, they acknowledge both that they must move past “the feeling” of childhood. Yet despite all the ups and downs and melancholic boredom of the suburban childhood, the narrator would only do the same things again if they could do it all again. Even then the other “if I could have it back” does suggest some kind of hesitation. It doesn’t matter though; they’ve already moved past it.
Week by Week, The Suburbs and Funeral fluctuate as to what is my favourite record from Arcade Fire. Funeral would be this week, mainly for emotional and nostalgic reasons, but even with that in mind I would still be willing to call The Suburbs their best, combining their emotional and conceptual ambitions in the most satisfying way the ever have.
And with its mainstream popularity, hitting #1 in multiple countries, it was good to see all that ambition rewarded in a concrete way for the band. The most talked about way, however, that the band was rewarded was at the Grammy’s. Despite never winning any other award in the ceremony, the band won the award for Album of the Year in 2011, one of those decisions from the ceremony that given the omission of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy from the nominations at all was probably a delightful mistake.
Arcade Fire was at the most popular that they had ever been. What were they going to do with that popularity? Apparently, become a different band…
What did you think, though?
Arcade Fire Album Rankings
- Funeral
- The Suburbs
- Neon Bible