The Arcade Fire - "Funeral".

Thank you, Uncle Jools, for yet again springing a surprise on me.

Yes, another new series of "Later....." hits the airwaves and somehow an artist you've never heard of before hits you between the eyes and makes you realise you really must have been taking your eyes off the radar far too often over the last year.

This time it's The Arcade Fire, a six piece hailing out of Montreal, Quebec.



I'd describe how the band came to be but the official site bio does a far better job than I could:-

"The Arcade Fire reside in Montreal, Quebec. Win [Butler] moved to Montreal four winters ago, as a panther moves from jungle to jungle — silently, with rocking shoulder blades. Looking for musicians, he found Régine [Chassagne], who combed his sleek fur and removed the thorns from his paws.

Régine had secretly learned to sing, play piano, guitar, accordion, mandolin, flute, drums, and harmonica while her parents weren’t watching. Her family fled Haiti (under the dictatorship of Duvalier) in the 1960’s for Chicago, New York, and then finally to Montreal, where Régine grew up."

Over the course of recording their debut album the band members had the deaths of three family members and a wedding to cope with and "Funeral" was released in 2004.

"Ok, Carpy", I hear you ponder, "that's all very well and good, but what do they sound like ?"

Ok, let's try it this way.

Imagine the humour of Jarvis Cocker on full form, combined with the directness of Kings of Leon...but sounding like neither and both.

Take the boldness of The Pixies and the pop leanings of Pulp....but then throw in a piano ballad to melt the heart and wrong foot you wonderfully before you hit Talking Heads territory.

Build up a track like Mars Volta (if they made decent tunes) and not be afraid to use xylophones or an accordian. Layer lush strings in front or behind the sound and somehow make them work for a bar with disco shuffles.

These are what Conor Oberst would be doing if he had the sound and songs to backup the hype and a load of his friends happened to pop round for tea at the same time. And they'd brought whatever instruments they'd fished out of the loft.

So, that's already Pulp, Kings of Leon, The Pixies, Talking Heads, Mars Volta, Bright Eyes...and I'd add Flaming Lips and Radiohead in the mix too.

Damn, this is a really weird album to pin down and yet the tracks all fit together like a very oddly designed jigsaw that can only end up being itself, and uniquely so.

I'm gushing now, aren't I ? I'm doing the pretentious music journo-speak that we all love to make fun of. Well, maybe I can see why that sort of thing issues from peoples typing fingers when things like this appear.

I'm going to regroup for a moment so have another picture - people like pictures.



Oh, and you want lyrics ? Real lyrics that can mean a million things to the same person on every listen, delivered straight to the heart but through the ears ?

Yep, tick them boxes cos they have them in spades.

You want examples, pulled screaming from the completeness from which they hail ? God, you're a tough bunch.

Here you go:-

When daddy comes home you always start a fight,
so the neighbors can dance in the police disco lights.
The police disco lights. Now the neighbors can dance!
Look at ‘em dance.

Ice has covered up my parents hands
don’t have any dreams don’t have any plans.
Growin’ up in some strange storm,
nobody’s cold, nobody’s warm.

They say it fades if you let it,
love was made to forget it.
I carved your name across my eyelids,
you pray for rain I pray for blindness.

If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We'’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms
turnin’ every good thing to rust.

I am waitin’ ’til I don’t know when,
cause I'’m sure it’s gonna happen then.
Time keeps creepin’ through the neighborhood,
killing old folks, wakin'’ up babies
just like we knew it would.

All the neighbors are startin’ up a fire,
burning all the old folks the witches and the liars.
My eyes are covered by the hands of my unborn kids,
but my heart keeps watchin’ through the skin of my eyelids.

Sleeping is giving in, no matter what the time is.
Sleeping is giving in, so lift those heavy eyelids.
People say that you'’ll die faster than without water.
But we know it'’s just a lie,
scare your son, scare your daughter.