Seattle Subsonic

The Dilemma With Arcade Fire

September 13th, 2010

Today, I’d like to ruminate on a personal issue that I hope some of you can relate to. You might have noticed, if you peruse the music headlines now and again, that Arcade Fire‘s third album The Suburbs hit No. 1 on the U.S. Billboard 200 chart the week it debuted (8/10). Number one! For all I know, it’s still sitting there (I don’t subscribe to Billboard, thankfully). It also hit No. 1 in the UK, Canada, Ireland and Portugal. The band’s second album, Neon Bible, reached as far as No. 2 on that same chart back in 2007, so upper echelon territory is not necessarily a new thing for the orchestral popping Boss-rockers from Montreal.

.

But what—in my mind—began back during their initial Funeral tour in 2004, the popularity of Arcade Fire has only escalated with each new album at an alarming rate. They’re playing at Key Arena in a few weeks for chrissakes. And, in the grand scheme of non-LB things, that’s a good thing: a talented band on an “independent” label making meaningful music that the masses can’t get enough of. It’s a small slice of Utopia. But when I boil it down to my personal biases regarding bands and their popularity and my subsequent perception of them, I run into a predicament. A predicament I’ve had a tough time reconciling.

.

Let me explain. I have this internal switch that’s triggered the moment (or moments) a band I’ve invested emotionally in “gets big”. I actually don’t like to admit it sometimes, but an appearance on TV or inflating record sales can often be a turn off for me. A “new, streamlined sound” with “pop sensibilities” makes me cringe. Ever the loyal Taurus, how is it that I can turn my back so frivolously, so casually, so flippantly? I write about musicians I like, so shouldn’t I be happy when they finally reel in that bigger paycheck? It happened with Modest Mouse. It happened with the Shins. It might be happening with Interpol.* In my eyes, these bands altered their MO to appeal to a larger audience, to transform in such a way that more people would hear them. As it is, I’m not exactly cool with that, as is probably the case with most diehards.

.

You see, I’m not a big huge fan of Neon Bible. Never was. Oh sure, it’s a fine, authoritative testament, but it had nowhere near the impact on me that Funeral had. I thought it anticlimactic and a bit heavy handed. I expected less out of the band going forward, and with their fame skyrocketing, I did what any stilted, overly sensitive music fan would do. I shrugged myself silly and said, to no one in particular, “Good luck with that.” But when I come to The Suburbs, my problematic trigger switch fails to fire. I honestly don’t know if I can say that Arcade Fire “altered their MO”—maybe they did, maybe they didn’t—but perhaps they’ve somehow transcended this imaginary tipping point I’ve invoked. Because as luck and the universe would have it, The Suburbs is an exceptional, moving record, despite the fact that it’s currently blasting out of Best Buy speakers all over Manitoba. It’s graceful and intense and brooding and raw and rollicking and flawlessly composed. In fact, I can’t stop listening to it.

.

Of course I can’t, with the band’s popularity higher than ever, with me and my shrugging and my non-expectant poo-pooing. My blatant adoration for the band has utterly been reinstated in the face of prolific record sales and my quandary is again at hand. But how can I shun a band whose music I hold so dearly? How can I ignore such a poignant, persuasive, well-arranged record? The answer is, I can’t. I CAN’T. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I HAVE TO LOVE A REALLY, REALLY POPULAR BAND. And for once, that’s just fine and dandy.

.

* I’ll refrain from any nuanced stories about how these bands disappointed me. I still “care for them”, by and large, but the relationship broke somewhere along the line.