IN REVIEW: Arcade Fire - "WE"

 

When it comes to Arcade Fire, reading an opinion like “their best album since The Suburbs” can be a very exciting thing to hear. After all, the collective’s third album is considered by many to be their magnum opus, and one that came out a dozen years ago at that. So, hearing someone say that implies a grand return to form, an attempt to recapture some of the goodwill they had at their zenith; as if to say, after a lost decade messing with their sound and their fan base, Arcade Fire was back.

The thing about that statement is, while it’s technically true, it says less about Arcade Fire’s heyday than it does about the two albums that followed The Suburbs as the group crawled through the ‘10s; Reflektor released in 2013 as an overstuffed and meandering attempt at following bold new pathways, while 2017’s Everything Now was hampered by a borderline-disastrous, oversaturating promotional campaign and a dumbed-down presentation that spoke to the rampant consumerism of our modern society by screaming from the balcony “we’re selling out” with a sly wink; it may have been a little easier to swallow if the whole thing didn’t feel designed to deflect from the fact that their most artistically depleted period coincided with their signing to a major label.

With five years and sweeping global changes separating fans from the sting of being let down, WE comes into the world with the unenviable task of readjusting Arcade Fire’s trajectory; when you’re arguably looked to as one of the biggest and most important bands in the world, the step you take after a stumble is a critical one, and it shouldn’t surprise anyone to know that WE is a relatively safe step. To be clear, it isn’t a blatant attempt at getting back to their peak; this isn’t a record that’s interested in past successes or rehashing the glory days, nor is it a bold or defiant statement record. Instead, it rests somewhere in between, content to use elements of what brought them to the forefront of indie rock while falling into a few bad habits and making tentative efforts to try something new. That said, there won’t be any trails blazed by WE, and Arcade Fire seem very careful not to take their songs anywhere too unexpected or uncomfortable.

By far, the most difficult component of Arcade Fire’s sixth album is its presentation; its streaming version has ten tracks but only five songs (the physical edition has seven tracks, which makes more sense, if that makes sense). However, only one of those five, the closing title track, is a standalone song. Age of Anxiety is split into two tracks, which are distinctive enough to be separate. Its first half is a tone setting, Coldplay-like slow burn that morphs into the kind of thumping dance-rock track that’s been the norm rather than the exception in recent years from Arcade Fire, although its theatrical groove fits well. Meanwhile, its second half (subtitled Rabbit Hole) is a piano dirge that explodes back into that hypnotic dance groove but overstays its welcome at nearly seven minutes which, on an album that’s only 40 minutes long, is too much of the real estate given up to tepid dance rock.

End of the Empire is even more confusing, consisting of a thirty second prelude which inexplicably gets its own track followed by the first three parts as one five-minute track; this track is decent enough, digging back into classic influences such as The Beatles but coming off closer to The Lumineers in execution. It’s nevertheless a pleasant suite that held my interest well enough. End of the Empire IV (Sagittarius A, not to be confused with Generation A, the great and fiery track they debuted in 2020 but relegated to B-side status rather than include it here) ends the “I” section of the record in much the same vein as parts I-III did, with a sullen and morose piano ballad that builds in intensity as it goes; this song features some of the album’s most cringy lyrics, with talk of unsubscribing from society (as well as clichéd gems like “I don’t believe the hype”) and offering a passing shot at those who balked at the direction of Everything Now (“Fuck season five”).

All told, the first half of WE doesn’t offer all that much in terms of excitement or artistic achievement; it’s mostly subdued, kind of bitter and not really all that different from the diminishing returns they’d been serving us on their previous two records. 

Thankfully, the best material on WE is saved for the second half (or, the “WE” side); lead single The Lightning is the clear highlight of the album, Win and Régine harmonizing on the pretty chorus of Part I as the sonic storm builds in the background, the tempo rising and flowing seamlessly into Part II. Rather, it does on physical editions; if you don’t have gapless playback enabled on your streaming service of choice, the stubborn decision to make these two parts distinctive tracks causes a complete removal of flow (even a split second of silence totally wrecks it). Worse, it makes it impossible to enjoy this piece of music (which, more than any other separated tracks on the album, beg to be experienced together) on shuffle. Simply put, there’s no reason to stick a wedge between two halves of this otherwise thematically complete artistic statement.

The two parts of Unconditional, meanwhile, couldn’t be more different; Part I (Lookout Kid) is a mid-tempo, personal ode from parents to child, a track which rises above any triteness or pretense thanks to the emotion behind its delivery. Part II (Race and Religion), however, is the requisite Régine-lead song, a dark electronic rocker that features vocal accompaniment by the legendary Peter Gabriel; it’s not too far off from the groovier material from the first half, but there’s more joy and emotion permeating this track, and that (along with the Gabriel appearance) elevates it.

This leaves the aforementioned title track, a simple acoustic ballad to wind the album down. Aside from some pretty strumming and some small, tasteful instrumental swells, there isn’t much to WE aside from its message of unity, and of starting over in the end times. “When everything ends, can we do it again?” Win asks as the strings rise around him, insinuating either the possibility of more to follow or the desire for listeners to play the album again.

So the short answer is yes, WE is Arcade Fire’s best album since The Suburbs; there are moments on the album that remind you of just what this group is capable of, the emotional highs they provided regularly while they were proving themselves to be the defining band of a decade. However, those defining moments are fading in the rearview and there isn’t enough artistic growth or unbridled creativity here to suggest we’re getting many more of those moments going forward. WE isn’t as bullheaded in its difficulty as Reflektor was, nor as creatively bankrupt as Everything Now, but it’s also nowhere close to the Holy Trinity of Funeral, Neon Bible and The Suburbs. That’s not a crime, and WE isn’t a bad album, it’s just best received if you take Win’s advice and don’t believe the hype.

May 6, 2022 • Columbia

Highlights The Lightning • Unconditional I (Lookout Kid) • Unconditional II (Race and Religion)