Okay, this is going to be a sloppy article because I’m in mourning. It’s like I’m mourning the loss of a long-term partner and can’t even bear the sight of any sort of memorabilia attached to the relationship whatsoever. Kinda like when I lost Sonic Youth – only after that Jim O’Rourke joined the band and I had someone to direct my anger at. Then O’Rourke stays off a tour and when I see them, they play an entire set of songs off Sister and Evol.
That right there is closure.
My date’s on the floor clutching a barstool like she’s been overcome by vertigo because the sound is so powerful it’s dizzying. Leaving early was no prob – I felt whole again.
But I’m digressing.
So yeah. Arcade Fire… seriously; what the fuck, you guys??
I fell in love with this band in 2007 after downloading Neon Bible because iTunes told me to… then backtracked into purchasing Funeral one track at a time. Not one dog on either album. Lost sight of them for awhile, then a few years later I’m poking around iTunes for new music and up comes the Suburbs. That was like jumping back into the dating pool, registering a profile on Ok Cupid or whatever, and seeing my ex was not only out and available – but had realized and surpassed every potential I’d seen whilst we were together.
I was very disappointed by (follow up) Reflektor, however… but I just figured hey, they’re getting older, they have lives and families, they’ve made their money. They get a pass. It’s okay if I’m not into what they’re doing now – I’ve got my memories. But Jesus Christ, did they ever decide to piss all over them with this new album – not only do we neither always have Paris, nor the barn, but these fucking people took a disco ball of hatred and rained it down on both like a hydrogen bomb of I don’t give a fuck.
Everything Now is the new piece of garbage from formerly great Canadian rockestra Arcade Fire.
Everything Now got my hopes up and shot them right the fuck down like Ted Nugent in a swamp full of reeds aiming at some quacking liberal pacifist hipster band during duck season for ironically covering “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang.” And for the first time since he pretended his face was a Maserati, I am in complete support of the Nuge – so much that I’m reluctant to even describe this fucking monstrosity. But I’ll try:
I jumped in on the title track, which is song #2, but it’s confusing. We’ll get to that. “Everything Now” – – Lionel Ritchie could easily have written this song. Maybe he did – I’m waiting for an 80s cocktail party conga line to dance around some Manhattan penthouse and out the door, where a friendly dancing cop happily waves them across the street.
If Lionel Ritchie had written this one I could respect it stylistically, or at least tolerate it.
As said, this is actually the second track… it’s preceded by a 46 second introduction called “Everything Now (continued)”. Yeah, I wish this ‘backwards order’ shtick could allow me to blink the whole album out of existence, but time doesn’t work that way. So fuck Stephen Hawking, too. Dude needs to step it up.
Oh, by the way it gets cheaper and cheaper in recycling song titles/corner cutting/whatever… the last song’s another “Everything Now (continued)”.
Aaaand the ‘what the fucks’ just keep piling up.
“Signs of Life” could be a nice little dance number. It’s a little dance number… there’s that. I’m thinking they were shooting for a deliberately flat, Curtis Mayfield-retro production style or something. I don’t know… I wasn’t inside of frontman Win Butler’s head when it apparently deflated. I’m simply trying to approximate being there right now, and all I can feel is the ‘flat’ part. It’s FLAT. It’s a flat song. There’s a well-played dance beat, but I can’t groove to it because it’s godamned, motherfucking flat.
Seriously, where’s the ambiance I miss gone from Arcade Fire? I don’t want to not like them… I MISS THEM, GOD DAMN IT.
“Creature Comfort” has rap-talk singing like Blondie. Whatever.
Dear GOD, I really hate this record. Feels like I’m watching myself pan the living crap out of something from someplace outside of my mind and body and it’s painful to watch. What’s next? Can it please be over now? Because this is my third listen and I know it’s not going to get any better. Matter of fact it’s going to get all shouty chant, which I’m going to do my best to capture the spirit of…
Okay, here goes: “Infinite content, infinite content… infinitely content!”
Was that supposed to be an exclamation point there? I can’t tell, Win Butler. BECAUSE YOUR DELIVERY IS TOO FLAT. Seriously? What the FUCK was that?? I’m talking about “Infinite Content” – track number agony – which is followed by a song called (Jesus Christ) “Infinite_Content.”
Yeah… same fucking song, only slower. That’s cheap. There’s an underscore in the title. Oh, my God.
Win Butler and Arcade Fire should be brought up on charges for making me want to listen to this. It’s abusive.
By the time you get to the inevitable song that Butler allows wife Regine Chassagne to handle the main vocal part on, you’ve already been tortured enough. Yeah, then come the sounds of a once-great woman now weakened and babbling along with the weird synth-drizzle filler that’s presumably the underlying theme of Everything Now… I mean, just look at the poor thing:
WIN BUTLER MAKES HIS OWN WIFE WEAR A HEFTY BAG FOR CLOTHING.
I’m sorry. I just can’t bring myself to be cruel enough to put up anymore YouTube links. It’d only be continuing the cycle of abuse that is Everything Now. Look, I don’t think Win Butler is a monster… but he needs to stop. Someone please step in, here – before anyone else gets hurt. An intervention.
Stage an intervention.
Fellow Canadian jam-as-many-people-onstage-as-humanly possible pioneer Kevin Drew should be the point person for this one, because he’s gotta be feeling it after the colossal embarrassing fail of the recent Broken Social Scene release.
FUCK. What happened to the huge rock ensembles I fell in love with over the last ten years? Is that really it? I love that big, beautiful, melodic… well, bigness. Now I’m just left feeling shafted by flat, boring, please don’t ever make me listen to another thing you write NOTHING.
Yeah, know what I’m listening to now? Electric Light Orchestra.
Why? Because I still crave the big pretty ensemble rock songs with the occasional strings & other odd instruments, and I’ve had enough of bad boys like Win Butler. I want stability – someone I can rely on. Jeff Lyne may be a second rate George Harrison, but at least he’s consistent. And I’d choose the Traveling Wilburys over this faux disco bullshit any day.
I’m so tired of being lonely… I’ve still got some love to give.