The Early Flame.
They walk in mirrors to hide their numbers.
The Arcade Fire has been with me a long time. I remember eleventh grade, talking to one of my good friends in the Cafeteria. ”Mrs. Mapes gave me this album and says it’s great,” he said, holding the album in his hand for visual analysis. ”I don’t see what the big deal is.” The album he held wore a dull tan color, and bore a single, vaguely metallic feather on it for intrigue. I was in eleventh grade during an era where people still burned poorly organized mix CDs to give to friends and hasitly popped them into cracking jewel cases; this album made clear it was not just any loathsome burned CD, donning it’s cardboard jacket in the hostile Downingtown West High School cafeteria. Appearances captivated me enough to go out and buy it that day. That album was Funeral. It took me, and has had me since.
It’s been called the best album of the 2000’s. I would be hesitant to immediately agree, but then again, I really can’t think of many other albums I’d rather listen to over and over, though I can recognize their merit. I can recognize the brilliance of Kid A, but I feel as though that album’s past me by a bit now. I can see arguments for Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but when I think to myself, “I need some sound in my life now,” I don’t go and reach for it. Often, I reach for Funeral.
But time has not yielded more fodder for the addiction. For some reason, nothing Arcade Fire has done since Funeral has had the same effect on me. I’ve given Neon Bible many listens, but it can never take my attention like Funeral does. So, in hunger for more Arcade Fire, I reached against time, into the past. It reveals a different Arcade Fire, one of thin, uncomplicated arrangements. The band has at least seven people in it; you wonder what they were all doing during these recordings besides pretending to play the tambourine. Many of these tracks prove the past has no greater effect than the future, but one in particular found the ability to stick to me every time I hit “play.” This song is Sonata.
It’s not a complicated song in the least (the track filled with the silence of muted tambourines), but there’s a whimsical melancholy to the sparsity that’s drawing. For some reason, though so different than the tracks found on their later releases, it has the same feeling of texture that makes their music so successful. I’ve included it, and several other less successful early Arcade Fire below. Check out the really rough rendition of “Brazil.”
Arcade Fire – Cars and Telephones (YSI)
I love Arcade Fire the same way. I can totally relate to your experience with them. I was actually listening to Funeral today, and so was surprised when I saw your blog.
Funeral is just a level of beauty and complexity that they may never match. I do like Neon Bible, but I agree that it doesn’t pack the same punch as Funeral.
One song I have since discovered (in a similar quest for moving Arcade Fire) is Cold Wind. I definitely recommend you check it out.
” The band has at least seven people in it; you wonder what they were all doing during these recordings besides pretending to play the tambourine.”
I believe there were only 4 people in the band during that time.
Ahl, you definitely clowned me. Hardcore. But seriously, isn’t a bunch of people with tambourines, doing nothing but facing into a mirror a hilarious image?
Kaleigh, I’m definitely in the process of checking that track out. Thanks for the tip!
The “rough” rendition of Brazil is the B-Side to the ‘Cold Wind’ EP, which is one of the most stylishly packaged 7″s in my collection. However, it was actually released in 2005 after the song Cold Wind (@Kaleigh) was used on Six-Feet Under. This places the song in the post-Funeral era. Also, it rules.
For those interested, the EP is OOP (vinyl nerd term for Out of Press) but easily available online for cheap. I find that rougher songs sound better on vinyl and thus encourage any Arcade Fire enthusiasts to find the EP on beautifully clear wax.